The old radio tower on the Phoenix Park edge
stops transmitting in 1923. No notice. No
warning. Only static remains. The engineer, Seán
Ó Cuív, disappears the next day. His flat is
found empty, save for a stack of unsent letters
and a single reeltoreel tape.
In 2024, the tower is slated for demolition.
Liam Cusack, a Dublin solicitor, is hired to
handle the legal clearance. He finds a sealed
envelope in the building’s base—addressed to
himself, postmarked 1923. Inside: a list of
names, a location, and a note in Gaelic: “They
are not dead. They are waiting.”
Liam begins to hear voices in the static of old
radios. At first, they are fragments—snatches of
song, a child’s laughter. Then, a man speaks
directly to him. “You’re not supposed to find
this,” he says. “But you did.” The voice is Seán
Ó Cuív.
He discovers a hidden chamber beneath the tower,
sealed since 1923. Inside, a series of tuning
dials and a primitive transmitter. The walls are
etched with symbols—Celtic knots, but twisted,
wrong. A rule emerges: once the signal is
reactivated, the spirits return. But the law
forbids tampering with historical structures.
Liam ignores it.
The first manifestation occurs at his office. A
woman appears in the corner of the room, her
face blurred. She repeats a phrase: “The signal
must end.” Liam records the moment. The tape is
later found in a Dublin archive, dated 1923. The
name on the label is his own.
He investigates the list from the envelope. One
name is his grandfather, who died in 1947.
Another is a priest who vanished during the
Civil War. All were connected to the tower. A
second rule bites: the spirits cannot cross into
the present unless a descendant of the original
engineers reactivates the signal. Liam is the
last.
On the night of the demolition, he turns the
dial. The tower hums. A lowfrequency sound fills
the air. The spirits materialize—figures in
1920s garb, their faces hollow. They converge on
the site. Liam tries to shut it down, but the
machine is locked. The final rule: once the
signal is sent, it cannot be stopped. The
spirits are not bound by time. They are bound by
the signal.
The tower collapses. Liam is found unconscious
beneath the rubble. The police find no body in
the chamber. Only the tape, now blank. The
signal is gone. But in the static of old radios
across the city, a voice whispers: “It’s not
over.”
