Chapter 7: The Resistance

- Gabriel

The MRI room had been transformed into something between a scientific bunker and a hacker's den. The massive magnetic resonance imaging machine still dominated the center, but it was now surrounded by a chaotic array of equipment: oscilloscopes, signal generators, and at least six laptops connected to various devices I couldn't even identify. Cables snaked across the floor in organized bundles, all converging at the room's feedthroughs where they connected to Echelon's network and power grid. The engineers who designed this room had included electromagnetic filters in those connections to prevent outside interference with the sensitive MRI equipment. Now those same filters were allowing Ramona and Phoebe to access data from the outside world without compromising their electromagnetic shelter.

In one corner, they'd set up makeshift sleeping quarters: two narrow cots with sleeping bags, a small table with protein bars, bottled water, and a coffee maker that looked like it had been running continuously. They'd clearly been planning to stay here for days, perhaps weeks.

Ramona stood by one of the monitors, her silver-streaked bob disheveled, dark circles under her eyes. Phoebe was slumped in a chair, her usual energetic fidgeting reduced to a slow tapping of her fingers against her thigh. They both looked as exhausted as I felt. None of us had slept last night.

The institute around us was eerily quiet. It was Saturday morning, around seven, but even accounting for the weekend, the silence felt unnatural. After what had happened, I wouldn't be surprised if most of our female staff didn't show up on Monday, either staying home to recover or seeking answers elsewhere.

"The shielding worked," Ramona confirmed, answering my first question before I could even ask it. "We remained conscious and functional throughout the event. We're safe here."

"Yeah, unless there's some kind of failsafe mechanism in our brains that's now going to fry us for avoiding the signal," Phoebe added with a sardonic smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Ramona shot her a look. "We didn't even realize anything was happening until around midnight. We were so focused on our work that we hadn't checked any news sources. Then Phoebe opened a browser and saw the headlines on her default page."

I nodded, running a hand through my hair. "Wendy came out of it about three hours ago. She's disoriented, scared, but otherwise seems normal." I paced the small clear area of floor. "As far as I can tell, she doesn't remember anything from those six hours. Just a gap in time. Maybe that's all this is: a way to temporarily incapacitate women. A form of terrorism, or a threat. 'We can do this again unless you meet our demands' kind of thing."

Ramona and Phoebe exchanged a glance that made my stomach sink.

"We don't think that's what happened," Phoebe said, straightening in her chair. "We borrowed... Okay, fine, we stole... a fluxgate magnetometer from the geology lab. Set it up outside to record electromagnetic field changes in the VLF range."

"We've been recording for two days now," Ramona added, gesturing to a monitor displaying a complex waveform. "Including throughout last night's event."

"And?" I prompted, though I already knew I wouldn't like the answer.

"The signal was complex," Phoebe said, pulling up another screen showing a detailed frequency analysis. "Not repetitive, not constant. It varied throughout the six hours in patterns we don't yet understand."

"We can't decode it," Ramona continued. "It's either encoded in a way we don't recognize, or it's not any form of computer data, which makes sense since it wasn't meant for computers."

"But it wasn't just an 'on/off' switch," Phoebe emphasized. "It wasn't just maintaining a state of unconsciousness. It was... instructional."

The word hit me like a physical blow. "That's not possible," I argued, though my scientific mind was already calculating the possibilities. "You can't just send complex instructions through VLF. The bandwidth is too limited. It would take hours to—"

I stopped, the realization dawning on me with horrifying clarity.

"That's exactly what happened," I whispered. "They weren't just keeping women **** for six hours as a statement. They were sending instructions to their brains, and it took six hours to complete the transmission because of the low bandwidth."

Ramona nodded grimly. "That's our working theory."

"So every woman on the planet has been... programmed?" The word felt wrong in my mouth, dehumanizing. I thought of Wendy, of Olivia, of all the women I knew and worked with. "Programmed to do what?"

"That," Phoebe said, her usual sarcasm absent, "is the multi-billion-dollar question."

"At least now the world will pay attention," I said, attempting to find some sliver of optimism. "The CDC, WHO, other research institutions, they'll throw everything they have at this. We won't have to fight alone."

Ramona's expression darkened as she pulled up a news site on one of the monitors. "I'm afraid that's not happening," she said, gesturing to the headline: CDC ATTRIBUTES GLOBAL INCIDENT TO UNUSUAL SOLAR FLARE PHENOMENON.

"Solar flares?" I stared at the screen in disbelief. "That's absurd. Solar flares don't selectively affect women. They don't cause six-hour trances that end simultaneously worldwide."

"Exactly," Phoebe snorted. "Yet that's the official line. Not just from the CDC... Similar agencies around the world are pushing the same narrative."

Ramona nodded grimly. "I've tried contacting colleagues who would be qualified to address this: virologists, neurologists, even a few people I know at DARPA. Either I can't reach them at all, or they're suddenly very **** to discuss the matter."

"You think they're being silenced?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"I think whatever the endgame is here, it's coming soon," Ramona replied. "A secret this massive can't be maintained long-term. There are too many variables, too many people who would eventually put the pieces together. Whoever orchestrated this will need to act quickly to silence any resistance."

I straightened, decision made. "I'll authorize whatever you need: equipment, personnel, computing resources. We can pull from other departments, redirect funding—"

"We need to be careful about that," Ramona interrupted. "Diverting too many resources too quickly might raise flags. If other scientists have already been silenced, we can't risk drawing attention."

I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. "We can't do this alone. We should at least bring Constance in. As facilities director, she could help us get what we need without raising flags. I can't just start ordering people around without explanations, especially if no one in the chain of command understands what's happening."

Ramona shook her head firmly. "That's not an option."

"I've known Constance for years," I insisted. "She's brilliant, discreet, and I trust her completely."

"It's not our point, Gabriel," Phoebe said, her voice gentler than usual. "Every woman on Earth except for us, as far as we know, has potentially had their mind altered. Until we understand how and for what purpose, trusting any woman is too risky."

The implication hit me like a physical blow. Wendy. My Wendy, with her quick mind and warm laugh, potentially programmed to… what? Spy on me? Sabotage our work? Harm me? I felt suddenly cold.

"Wendy knows everything we're doing here," I said quietly. "I told her last night, before it happened."

Ramona's expression softened. "I understand your position, Gabriel. But it wasn't wise to inform her." She hesitated. "For now, I think it would be best if you kept her away from our work. Don't tell her anything more until we can determine who can be trusted."

I closed my eyes briefly, the weight of it all pressing down on me. The idea that I couldn't trust my own wife was almost too much to bear. But the scientist in me couldn't deny the logic.

"What about Duncan?" I asked finally. "He's our lead building systems engineer. He knows every inch of this facility, every power connection, every security system. And he's…"

"Male," Ramona finished for me. "Therefore presumably unaffected."

"He's also the only person I know who's more paranoid than I am," Phoebe added with a hint of her usual humor. "He's been preparing for the apocalypse since Y2K. This might actually be the moment he's been waiting for."

Despite everything, I found myself smiling faintly. "Alright, Duncan's in. I'll bring him on board."