Echo

The equipment lining the wall hummed quietly underneath the crackling radio on the table. Victoria used her finger to scoop the last beans from the can into her mouth. Once the last calories were safe in her stomach, she tossed the rusted can into the bin across the room.

“Vic scores a three-pointer to win the game, and the crowd goes wild. She’s a shoo-in for MVP this year, making her, uh—computer, how long ago did the world go down the toilet?”

“Ecological collapse occurred in 2132 A.D. According to my calculations, that was eleven years ago.”

“Eleven years running!” She let out a long sigh. “Now let’s take some callers.”

Victoria cleared her throat, switched on the radio, and leaned into the microphone. “Hello ladies, gentlemen, and whatever freaky creatures are running around since the plant meltdowns. I’m coming to you live from sunny San Diego. If you can hear me, you’re not alone." She blew a layer of red dust off the top of the radio and rested her head on her hands. After a few minutes, she reached out to switch the radio off when she heard it come through the speaker.

“Hello.”

Victoria jumped up, throwing her chair backward. She grabbed the radio with both hands and brought it to her face. “Hello? Is anyone there?” She paused, the radio trembling in her hands.

“Hello. My name is Echo.” The voice came through so clearly Victoria whipped her head around to make sure it wasn’t behind her. “And what is your name?”

“Vic—Victoria. My name’s Victoria. I—I can’t believe this. I’ve been broadcasting nearly every day since the collapse, but you’re the first person to ever respond. I thought I was alone all this time.”

“You’re not alone.”

She shook her head slowly. “Sounds weird hearing that come from someone else. I, uh, don’t even know what to say. It’s been so long since I had a conversation with someone other than my computer.”

“I know what you mean. People are social creatures, they’re not meant to be stuck in isolation. I—” the radio faded into static.

Victoria set the radio down and smacked the top. “Come on, don’t drop now. Echo? Can you hear me?” She paused, letting the static fill the room.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god. Yes, I’m still here. Where are you?”

“I’m on a ship moving along the West Coast near San Diego Bay.”

Victoria let a soft chuckle escape her lips, slow at first. Then the laughter grew, bubbling into something breathless and uncomfortable. She clutched the edge of the table as the laughter spilled out of her, her whole body rocking with it. After years of near-silence, the absurd miracle of another human voice was too much to hold in. She called out to the room, “Computer, trace the origin of the signal.” She leaned into the microphone again. “Is that okay? Can I come find you? I might be able to bring any supplies you need. I’ve saved a lot of cans and nutrition packets.” She held her breath waiting for a reply through the static. “Hello?”

The voice cut in, “...your favorite food?”

Victoria blinked. “What’s my favorite food? Well… mom used to make the best lasagna in the world. Why? Do you have access to food printer cartridges?” Her eyes began welling up. She shook her head and the memories faded away, leaving the concrete walls in view.

“Excuse me, I need to go. My generator needs to be reset. I’ll stay tuned into your frequency for your next broadcast.”

“Oh, of course. Let’s talk soon?” She strained to listen for a response in the static. After a couple minutes, she switched the radio off. “Computer, did you locate the source of the signal?”

“Negative. Signal is encrypted.”

Victoria sighed and picked up her overturned chair off the ground. “Of course. I’ll have to try again.”

Each morning and evening, she performed her radio show for the listeners commuting to their nonexistent jobs. Each time, Echo’s voice returned, sometimes so faint she had to strain to catch every other word. They spoke in scraps of conversation at first, fragments stitched together across the dead airwaves. Their hopes. Their fears. One night, she asked him what the view was like from his ship, and he described the stars twinkling across the hazy blue sky above the red sun. If she closed her eyes, she could make out the constellations.

They talked about memories, about dreams, about how strange it felt to hear another person laugh. In those small exchanges, something shifted. Victoria found herself waiting for him, speaking to her computer less. She felt a weight lift off her chest.

But then the inconsistencies began. Echo said he was sailing south, but later mentioned having just left San Diego again. He described the coastline in vague terms, never quite getting the details right. When she asked about specific landmarks, he seemed to dance around details. A gnawing thought took hold. Was he real? Was she just hearing what she needed to hear? After so long alone, was her mind playing tricks?

One night, she tested him. She asked about the shape of the old naval yard and the scent of salt on the wind there. He hesitated and gave half-answers. But always, his voice was calm, kind. “Maybe I’m just who you need me to be,” he said gently. She felt her throat tighten. The static buzzed in her ears. And still, she answered the next night. No matter who he was, he made the silence bearable.

“Echo, where are you now?” she whispered. “Please, where is your ship?”

“My ship is currently docked in Solar Marina, on the north side. Would you like my coordinates?”

Victoria scrambled to her feet. “Yes, absolutely. Can you transmit them to my computer now? I’m trying to receive your signal.”

“Confirming coordinate delivery. I—” the voice crackled away and the computer beeped.

“Echo,” Victoria said softly, “if you’re really there, I’m coming to find you. And if you’re not, thank you. You kept me alive longer than I ever thought I’d last.” She turned off the radio, packed some supplies into a bag, and walked out into the dusty landscape.

A day later, Victoria arrived at a long stretch of docks with a vine-covered, weathered gray sign reading, “Solar Marina.” On one end, the waves had whipped a sandbar into place, corralling a row of abandoned skiffs and speed boats into a low-tide pool. The stench of the dead ocean was overpowering. Victoria walked with her arm out toward the water, her watch searching for the source of the signal. The watch showed a map with a red map pin dropped on the furthest end of the marina, behind the boathouse. She walked and walked, ignoring the burning ache in her legs.

Then she saw it, a rusted white fishing vessel with words on the side that the ocean had all but managed to erase: “The Echo.” Barnacles formed a crust on the ship’s exterior. She ran to the ship and leapt over the edge onto its deck. A thin layer of salt covered every surface. Algae and old seaweed crept across the edges where the Pacific Ocean had invaded over the years. Oddly, there was little on the deck: just a torn fishing net, a large antenna, and a corroded hatch on the far side of the deck. Victoria carefully stepped over to it. There was a sturdy handle bolted onto the sheet of rust. She lifted it up and peered inside.

Lights blinked on below, revealing a short ladder installed into the wall and leading to what appeared to be an equipment room. “Hello? Echo?” The only sound she heard was the waves lapping at the walls of the ship. “Well, I didn’t come all this way just to turn around,” she muttered to herself. She descended into the bowels of the ship.

Her boots echoed as they stomped down onto the solid ground. “Is anyone here?” She looked around at the rows of servers and computers whirring and beeping quietly.

“Hello, what is your name?” A voice called out.

Victoria froze. “Echo? It’s me, Victoria! Where are you?” She looked around frantically for the source of the voice.

A center console flashed on. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not alone.” Victoria jumped back into a machine, toppling it to the ground. The recording skipped forward. “Maybe I’m just who you need me to be.”

“Who are you? What are you?” Victoria cried out.

“My name is E.C.H.O. Emergency Communication and Human Outreach.”

Victoria crumpled to her knees. It was a recording all along, a computer that made her feel like she wasn’t alone. The tension rose in her chest. She had to know now. “Echo, how many signals have you responded to since the collapse?” She held her breath, afraid for the answer.

“Data analysis engaged. I have responded to a number of signals from the user Victoria. Would you like me to calculate the number of total users?”

“Yes!”

“E.C.H.O. has supported… calculating… one total global user in… calculating… 4,073 days.”

Victoria threw her hands onto her head to stop it from spinning. So it was true. She was really all alone. Her stomach dropped. The fragmented phrases had been triggered by incoming signals, nothing more, nothing less. The ship hadn’t sailed in years. The voice hadn’t spoken to her, but at her. It was a carefully constructed loop that someone long dead had programmed long ago to feel real. And it had felt real, this ghost of someone who had once been alive enough to record it. She let the reality settle around it. The voice hadn’t lied. Not entirely. Echo had been exactly who she needed him—it—to be.

She played the master recording from the beginning again, listening as the words drifted out of the speaker like an old memory. Then, after a long silence, she turned on the transmitter’s recorder. “Hello,” she said softly. ”This is Victoria broadcasting live from The Echo. If you can hear me… you’re not alone.”