Hank waited obediently. The sounds of the forest echoed in the gathering twilight. “I don’t hear anything,” he said.
“The woodpecker,” said Jeb, his face intent.
“Oh,” said Hank. “You take up bird-watching?”
“Remember what happened at the site today?” said Jeb, seemingly changing the subject.
Hank gave Jeb a strange look. “Of course. Mechanical failure. Two days with no work, which sucks.”
Jeb snatched up his notebook and began scribbling. “There’s going to be more failures. Soon.”
“How do you know?”
Jeb held up the page, where he had transcribed a series of letters. “It’s Morse Code.”
Tapson on Tales and Totalitarianism
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