“To see the story unfold, to access the past, you must turn the base.” Did this actually work? Did turning the base reset the device? The images I discovered this morning certainly suggest so:

If I did indeed reset the device, this may very well be the first transmission it ever received. “Transmission test case:” is written clearly on the page, as is “Confidential” above it. In the lower left corner is the cryptic “NGC56″: I’m not entirely sure what that means, so I’ll come back to it. The images in these transmissions aren’t nearly as clear as the ones I’ve received in the past. A couple are heavily faded and they all exhibit some kind of ghosting effect (if you look closely, you’ll see a faded replica of the transmitted image, offset and super-imposed behind the main image), some more severe than others. I believe these were sent from a time before the device was completely dialed in – an alpha test, if you will. There is no date, which would help immensely, but just the mere fact that these images are test cases – as well as the ghosting – leads me to believe that these are some of the first (if not the first) images the device ever transmitted.

I feel like I’m on the right track. If I have successfully reset the device, maybe now I can finally get to the bottom of the numerous questions I’ve had.

There’s just one thing that doesn’t make sense, though maybe it doesn’t need to. Many products have code names after all, but “NGC56″ intrigues me. After a quick Google search, an overwhelming number of the results all point to the New General Catalogue entry for a “supposedly observed astronomical body” that does not actually exist.

Here is the link to the Wikipedia article.

I don’t exactly know what to make of that. At work we often use code names for our projects, so this is nothing new to me. There is a chance it may not even be a code name – perhaps it’s a serial number, or some kind of encryption that I can’t make sense of. Even more simply, perhaps this was the 56th attempt at a transmission? Who knows? I certainly don’t.

However, I do love this quote – “about this place a considerable space seems affected with nebulosity.” Nebulosity, indeed. That’s exactly how I feel at times.

-Jason

©2012 The Portfolio of Jason Rost. All Rights Reserved.

“Turn the base to access the past.” That phrase haunted me, creeping into my dreams and flickering at the edges of my waking mind. I couldn’t keep going on like this – I needed to know. Gripping the base resolutely, I twisted it clockwise until there was an audible “clack”. At that very moment the tube separated from the base. SHIT! I broke it! Or so I thought – after the initial wave of panic subsided I realized it wasn’t broken, just dismantled. “Now what?” I wondered, cradling the two halves in my hands.

The base, full of cobwebs and other grime from who-knows-when, doesn’t really hold any answers. I didn’t see any switches, toggles, levers, knobs, or any other useful synonyms of the kind. The same could be said for the tube, with one exception: four prongs on the bottom look like they connect directly to the four transmission points. I finally get to see some of the inner workings, not that there is much to see. The voicemail just said to turn the base, but there was nothing about dismantling it. Maybe this was the intended result? Is it possible that dismantling the device resets it?

Finding nothing useful after a couple more hours of examination and pondering, I decided to put the device back together. After all, every moment it’s disassembled is a moment I could be missing a transmission. I grabbed whatever protective clothing I could find – some oven mitts and sunglasses did the trick – out of fear the device might activate in my hands upon reassembly. I must’ve looked pretty ridiculous; I’m glad Kim wasn’t around to see it. Slowly and gingerly, I twisted and locked the tube back in place. I set the device back on the table, hooked up the transmission points, and replaced the paper. Everything was once again complete, and maybe now that my curiosity was partially sated I could get some much-needed rest. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

-Jason

©2012 The Portfolio of Jason Rost. All Rights Reserved.

The tube became a normal household decoration to Kim and me, pensively brooding on our dining room table. It wasn’t precisely a nuisance since we normally eat in the living room, so after two months of dormancy we grew accustomed to having it there. Consider my surprise, then, when it did this:

All four pages, suddenly marked. Startled, I dropped the glass of water I was holding, barely missing the kitchen tile. Our napping cat scrambled away as water flew everywhere, but I took no notice – my gaze was fixed on the four pages. Leaning in closely, I scrutinized them thoroughly, even as water still trickled down the wall. Touching every sheet carefully, I found that each was slightly warm – could it be that these were just transmitted? Strangely enough, the tube felt icily cold, not at all what I had expected considering the crisp fall air had finally driven us to turn on the heater. As soon as I had prepared some replacement pages, I swapped them in and tried to make sense of the images set before me.

Here, in greater detail:

(top to bottom, left to right)

Four pages with tidbits of information on the mysterious Spore. None of the information thus far explicitly tells me what the Spore is, but it’s been mentioned before – I’m beginning to worry that I missed some important information due to the flammability of printer paper and my lack of four transmission points. Maybe if I follow the instructions from the voicemail I can access any previous transmissions I may have missed. At this point I figure it’s worth a shot, because this is getting more and more confusing with each transmission.

From limited knowledge of this Spore, it strikes me as something you don’t want to mess with: this is the second time it has been associated with death. Even more ominous, combined the notes read: “In case I don’t make it… Here are the rest of my Spore notes. I’m going in.” And worse yet, the fourth page depicts what appears to be a cavern full of Spores. Are they really thinking of going in there?

Perhaps I’ve never mentioned it before, but I’ve had more than a passing thought regarding who might be sending these – what if these images are from my great-great-grandfather Gus? My fiancée spotted something I had previously missed – what appears to be a signature at the bottom right corner of the fourth page.

A. Singletree. August Singletree. Gus Singletree, my great-great-grandfather! How could this be possible? The skeptic in me knows a signature does not prove anything about who may have actually drawn this. Yet… somehow, on some level, I truly believe it was him. A tendril of fear clenched my stomach and I drew in a breath in an attempt to dispel it: is Gus thinking of going into the Spore cavern?

Wait, wait, wait. I have to step back from this for a moment. Am I getting carried away by fantastical thoughts? Where is my rationality? Even if the person on the other end of this transmission device is Gus, how could I possibly be receiving messages from a man who disappeared in the late 1890’s?

In the words of the methodically paced voicemail: “To see the story unfold, to access the past, you must turn the base.”

Screw rationality. That’s exactly what I plan to do.

-Jason

©2012 The Portfolio of Jason Rost. All Rights Reserved.

Kim left me a message saying not to worry about dinner, because she had it covered. Much to my surprise, Kim and our friend Robyn had picked up sushi (Tempura Ebi Maki, so good). When I came home they really wanted me to come and eat before I hopped in the shower, immediately I knew something was odd, I could sense there was an air of held back laughter. Upon entering the dining area I found them both wearing mustaches! They even picked one up for me, how nice. Mine failed to stick to my face though, I think it was defective, however it stuck really well to the cacti.

-Jason

©2012 The Portfolio of Jason Rost. All Rights Reserved.

After spending a couple hours on Granville Island we decided it was best to start walking towards Vij’s, one of North America’s top Indian restaurants, this was our big dinner and we decided to go all out on the first night. They don’t take reservations and the line usually forms a half-an-hour before the doors open. We made sure that we were the first in line, arriving 45 minutes early. The service was impeccable and the lamb popsicles were simply amazing, definitely worth driving back to Vancouver for!

It was still light out when we finished eating, but it just started raining, and we had a long walk back to the Chocolate Lily ahead of us. By the time we arrived at our suite we were both drenched.

As soon as we walked through the door, I told her to sit on the couch because I had some leftovers for her (I definitely stole a to-go box earlier so I’d have something to hide it in), and handed her the container. She was nervous, having some idea of what she was in for and slowly opened the to-go box, inside she found a book – much to her surprise. The book seemed to be full of blank pages at first glance. However upon opening the book, she found that I had hollowed out the center and hid the ring box inside. “This is the start of our story” I wrote on the first page, I got on one knee and asked her to marry me. To nervous and shaky to open the ring box herself, she closed her eyes and asked me to put it on her finger. I was more than happy to oblige! :D

And of course, she said yes…

-Jason

©2012 The Portfolio of Jason Rost. All Rights Reserved.

When I received a second call the next day, I had completely forgotten about the message that was left previously. I figured I might as well check my voicemail to see what they wanted…

…And that’s when I first heard him: old, gruff, the kind of voice that smokes two packs a day. In between the methodically, carefully-paced sentences I heard him wheezing wetly:

Against his wishes, I tried calling the number only to find it was no longer in service. A cold female recording droned:

Now things are getting unexpectedly personal. Who was that man? How did he get the number to my cell? Moreover, how in the world does he know about the fire hazard that’s taken over my dining room table?

Obviously, he knows something about the tube, but while he mentions the device he doesn’t give it a name. He said to… turn the base to access the past. Maybe this will answer some of the questions I’ve had – maybe it will just produce more – or maybe it will disable the device altogether. What if this strange caller was trying to disable the device? Do I really want to trust this mysterious voicemail?

Inspecting the base of the tube revealed this groove:

Could this possibly be what he meant? Every time I think I’m about to get some answers, something unexpected arises from this confounding mystery. I’ll look into “turning the base” soon, but at the moment I think it’s better to leave the tube alone. Hopefully I’ll get my next transmission sooner rather than later, as it has been quite some time now.

I may have to change my policy on unknown numbers… I wish I had answered that call.

-Jason

©2012 The Portfolio of Jason Rost. All Rights Reserved.

After several hours of construction – and then some for the glue to dry – I was back in business. I ended up gluing the cardboard supports to the clips because they kept falling over. Now came the time to try my pencil eraser solution. Setting up one mount was fairly easy…

…but setting up four was an exercise in futility. Any flaws or instabilities in my design were multiplied four-fold. The erasers were too lightweight to accomplish much of anything; I could get one in place, precariously balanced and sometimes-teetering, but as soon as I tried placing the next armature, everything fell apart.

I gritted my teeth in frustration – I had to think of something quickly. I didn’t know when the next broadcast would arrive. I needed these sheets mounted. A sudden realization struck me: instead of trying to support the wire, why not support the cardboard? Luckily, I had some wood scraps left over from the planter boxes; I proceeded to cut it into 2″ lengths, then sawed a groove on top in which the cardboard would rest. Success!

Now, it’s almost impossible to tell the difference, but I’ve upgraded the paper significantly. No longer am I using standard printer paper, but instead I found actual flame retardant paper at a nearby art supply store. It kind of broke the bank – the only roll size it comes in is a ludicrous 1000 ft – but if this works it will be well worth the cost.

Once construction was complete, I took a step back to marvel at my engineering abilities. The moment was jarred by an unsettling thought: what if the device had activated while I was handling it?

-Jason

©2012 The Portfolio of Jason Rost. All Rights Reserved.