Within the confines of the communications control room, a scene of intense activity unfolded as technicians moved with urgency between their various stations, their hands gesticulating wildly and their voices overlapping in a cacophony of shouted commands and inquiries. A wall of monitors blinked with error messages, half of them stuck in endless reboot loops. Smoke rolled from an open access panel in the ceiling. The far end of the room displayed a distinctive blemish on the wall, a brown...

The next morning, Ralph was halfway through his second cup of coffee—yes, still in a measuring cup—when the call came in. He had let his receptionist have the day off.

The forest was a little way past the last farm, where the trees started thick and the ground dipped away into the hollows that never saw full sunlight, even in high summer. Astrid was there, of course—waiting, not pacing, eyes fixed on the bark of a wind-warped spruce.