The Signal in the Scrapyard
I. The radio telescope sat in Frank Kovac's garage like a relic from some forgotten war. It was a mess of salvaged satellite dishes, copper wire, and computer parts he'd picked up from eBay for next to nothing. His ex-wife had called it a waste of space when they were still married. She was probably right, but then again, she hadn't been the one hearing the voices. Not voices exactly. More like...
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