Cricketer v. Cryptographer

I think I've wasted my life, says the Cricketer above the drone of crickets, on cricket.

The Cryptographer nods.

It's a silly sort of profession to keep in this country, he continues.

The Cryptographer reluctantly agrees.

What's more, it's a boring game, isn't it? I wish I'd never been approached by the Coach and the university's Financier. I could be in Trinidad now. The money wasn't as good, but life was grand. I see that in retrospect.

Though the Cryptographer's occupation is somewhat obscure, it's an occupation that's necessarily obscure, and thus would be obscure anywhere. It's obscurity that he's fascinated by.

There's a radio channel that emits on a frequency just between two stations on the upper band of the AM dial, he says. And on this station there's repeated a series of phrases, sometimes a series of numbers coupled with words, or letters coupled with numbers, or numbers coupled with phrases, or phrases coupled with words, that together make no apparent sense at all. I've spent the last several years trying to decode them.

Have you?

I don't know, says the Cryptographer. At times I think I might have. Others times I don't.

The Cricketer asks where the signal's broadcast from. The Cryptographer hesitates.

One locality, he says, seems to emit from around this area. Maybe near the great wind turbines to the north. But I've heard that other locations mirror the same phrases exactly. They're scattered across the world.

In an odd circumstance, it's just then that Pepple - with the questionable help of the Undertaker - erects a tall aluminum transmission antenna connected directly to his cabin. The two duelists watch as their two counterparts regard their work from a distance, wipe off their hands, and part ways.

As for the duelists -

They raise their guns, their guns go off.