The Cartographer of Silence
A night operator at a listening station receives a map, transmitted line by line, of a place that has not been built yet. Her own house is on it.
Incoming transmission · origin 27.4698° S · 153.0251° E
Fiction and poetry, recovered from the quiet between stars.
Priority signal 27.48° S · 153.02° E Featured recovery · 2026.10.18
LOG 015 · story
On a muggy night in South Brisbane, a woman who wishes she could change the future finds an old man with electric blue eyes hanging from her balcony. He has come to give her exactly what she asked for.
The archive · 9 entries catalogued
A night operator at a listening station receives a map, transmitted line by line, of a place that has not been built yet. Her own house is on it.
Every night at 3:03, the old Queenslander hums a single note. The new owner sets out to find its source, and finds that the house has been listening back.
A satellite falls into the Coral Sea and keeps broadcasting from the dark. A poem for the things that go on calling long after anyone is listening.
In the rainforest above the falls, a girl trades her name for a lantern. The moths who take it are very polite about the debt.
Works · 12 titles catalogued
Awaiting transmission
Dispatches · field notes from the listening post
Some stories are written, loved, and then quietly set aside. This one deserved somewhere to land, so I've filed it in the archive as LOG 015.
Most of my stories start as a sound I can't place. A note on attention, patience, and the discipline of hearing nothing for a very long time.
Rain on a tin roof for nine days straight. What a Queensland wet season does to time, sleep, and the stories that grow in the damp.
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New stories, poems and dispatches, sent when the signal is strong enough to carry them. No noise in between.