Chapter 2: Frequency

The sirens were getting closer.

Maya spread Elena’s maps across the reading table while Priya perched on the edge of a chair, one leg tucked under her, examining a 1923 newspaper clipping about “unexplained earth tremors.”

“So,” Priya said, glancing up with a grin that was equal parts mischief and genuine curiosity, “are we talking about actual underground people, or is this some kind of metaphor situation? Because honestly, either way sounds more interesting than my senior thesis.”

Elena pulled out another folder. “The geological surveys are real. The power grid correlations are real. Whether the people are real…” She shrugged. “Depends what you mean by real.”

“I mean like, can I flirt with them?” Priya’s eyes sparkled. “Because the figures in my dreams are extremely attractive in a way that’s probably not healthy for my dating life.”

Maya looked up from the map she’d been studying. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Oh, I’m taking it very seriously. That’s why I’m joking.” Priya leaned forward, suddenly intense again. “Maya, I’ve been painting compulsively for a week. I’ve had maybe twelve hours of sleep total. I keep seeing these underground spaces that feel more real than this room. And now Elena’s telling us there’s historical precedent for whatever’s happening to my brain.” She gestured at the chaos of papers. “So yeah, I’m going to make inappropriate comments about the sexy underground people, because otherwise I might start screaming.”

A crash from somewhere in the building made them all freeze.

Elena moved to the window. Below, on Benefit Street, a utility truck had skidded into a lamppost. The driver was out, gesturing wildly at his radio, which was emitting nothing but static.

“How long since the emergency alert?” Maya asked.

“Twenty-three minutes,” Elena said, still watching the street.

More sirens. A helicopter passing overhead, flying lower than usual. Through the library’s tall windows, Maya could see people emerging from buildings, looking around with the confused expression of city dwellers whose invisible support systems had suddenly become very visible.

“My phone’s completely dead now,” Priya announced, shaking her iPhone like that might help. “Not just no signal—dead dead. Which is actually kind of liberating.” She looked at Maya with a sideways smile. “When’s the last time you went more than an hour without checking your phone?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Exactly. Maybe the underground people are doing us a favor. Forced digital detox.”

“Priya,” Maya said.

“What?”

“Focus.”

“I am focused. This is how I focus.” Priya pulled her canvas around so they could all see it properly. “Look at this painting. Really look at it.”

Maya had been trying not to look at it directly. Something about the image made her feel dizzy, like she was looking down from a great height. But now she forced herself to study the details.

The underground spaces weren’t caves—they were chambers, vast and organic, with walls that curved like the inside of shells. Light came from everywhere and nowhere, illuminating figures that moved with impossible grace. And the faces…

“Jesus,” Maya whispered.

“Right?” Priya’s voice was softer now, less performatively casual. “They look like us, but not. Like they remember something we forgot. And Maya—in the dreams, when they look at me, I get the feeling they’ve been waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“For us to remember too.”

Elena cleared her throat. “There’s something else.” She pulled out a leather-bound journal, pages yellow with age. “This belonged to my great-grandmother. She was a seamstress, worked in the textile mills. Never talked about visions or underground people. But listen to this.”

She opened to a page marked with a faded ribbon and read aloud:

“The machines went quiet today. Not broken—quiet. Like they were listening for something. Maria said she heard music coming from the basement, but when we went down there was nothing. Just that humming sound the building makes sometimes, except louder. I dreamed of vast rooms under the earth, and people with eyes like stars. They were teaching me things I don’t have words for. When I woke up, my hands knew how to make patterns I’d never seen before.”

Priya sat up straighter. “What year?”

“1923. Same year as the seismic activity.”

“And the power grid failures,” Maya added.

They looked at each other across the accumulated evidence of something that had been happening for over a century, in cycles, waiting for the right moment to surface.

“So what changed?” Maya asked. “Why now?”

Before anyone could answer, the building’s lights flickered. Once, twice, then steady again.

In the moment of darkness, Maya could have sworn she heard it—the humming Elena’s great-grandmother had written about. A frequency just below the range of normal hearing, coming from deep in the earth.

“Did you—” she started.

“Yeah,” Priya said. “I heard it too.”

Elena was already moving, pulling books from shelves with the efficiency of someone who’d been preparing for this moment. “We need to go deeper.”

“Deeper how?”

“The library has sub-basements. Archives dating back to the 1700s. If they’re coming up, maybe we need to go down.”

Priya was already standing, lifting her canvas. “Finally, someone’s talking my language.”

She caught Maya’s eye and winked. “You know, for a community organizer, you’re handling the potential collapse of reality pretty well.”

“I’ve had practice with disasters.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t a disaster,” Priya said, following Elena toward a door marked ‘STAFF ONLY.’ “This is an invitation.”

The humming grew louder as they descended the narrow stairs to the basement. Not louder exactly—closer. Like they were walking toward the source of a frequency that had been calling them all along.

At the bottom of the stairs, Elena paused with her hand on another door.

“Once we go through here,” she said, “things are going to be different.”

“Different how?” Maya asked.

Elena’s smile was sharp in the dim light. “I guess we’ll find out.”

She opened the door.

The humming stopped.

And in the sudden silence, they heard something else—voices, singing in harmony so perfect it made Maya’s chest ache with longing for something she’d never known she’d lost.

Priya grabbed Maya’s hand. “Ready to meet the neighbors?”

Before Maya could answer, the singing grew louder, and she realized the sound wasn’t coming from behind the door.

It was coming from beneath their feet.