It was 6 p.m. on a rainy Saturday night.
The machine in front of them let out a loud beep.
Finally the voice spoke again. “I hope that everything will work out better next time.”
“What does he mean by that, Jake?” asked Sharon. She got no response.
“If anyone’s listening to this, it works. I’ve found my second chance. I have to do this,” said the voice, the static from the recorder getting stronger.
Sitting across from each other, Jake and Sharon listened to the recorded voice of their friend Ian. It spoke of complex science they couldn’t understand, and was interspersed with bouts of static. This was the last clue they had of the whereabouts of their friend.
Jake reached for the tape recorder and pressed the play/pause button. Sharon sat with her arms around her knees, staring back at Jake.
Holding the case in his hands, Jake examined the interior. It was empty save for a tape recorder and a peculiar looking device attached to the inside. It was covered in wires and electrical components which cradled a single button. Jake pressed it, but nothing happened.
“Still no luck,” said Jake, “I hope Ian’s all right, this was all I could find in his office.”
“What about his advisor? He still hasn’t seen Ian since that storm last weekend?”
“No one that I talked to has seen him recently,” said Jake, placing the case on the table between them, “I thought this might be helpful.” The light shining through the window bounced off the metal facets of the case exterior and danced in Sharon’s anxious eyes.
“What is that?” asked Sharon.
Jake walked in carrying a small metal case.