October 28, 1943
The hum followed Sal all the way home from Mrs. Grimaldi's.
He noticed it on the trolley, a low vibration that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. At first he thought it was the trolley itself—the old cars made all kinds of noises, most of them complaints—but when the trolley stopped to let passengers off, the hum continued. It was in his teeth. In his bones. In the fillings of his back molar, the one that had cost him twelve dollars in 1938.
He got off at his stop and walked the three blocks to his row house. The hum walked with him.
Rosa was in the kitchen, rolling out dough for pasta. The smell of flour and eggs filled the air, warm and familiar. Maria was at the table, still drawing, adding more fish with hats to her ever-expanding maritime epic.
"You're home early," Rosa said without looking up. "Mrs. Grimaldi's toilet surrendered?"
"Not yet. But it's on hospice care. Another few weeks and we're having a funeral."
Sal hung his toolbag on its hook by the door and sat down heavily at the table. The hum was still there, quieter now but present, like a radio playing in another room.
Rosa glanced at him. "You look tired."
"I'm fine. Just... did you feel that? On the trolley? That vibration?"
Rosa paused, flour-dusted hands hovering over the dough. "What vibration?"
"Never mind." Sal rubbed his jaw. "Probably just my tooth."
Maria looked up from her drawing. "Pop-Pop, what's a unified field theory?"
Sal stared at his daughter. "Where did you hear that?"
"The sailor man said it. On the ship. He asked you about it."
Sal had forgotten Maria's uncanny ability to absorb everything that happened around her, even things she wasn't supposed to hear. She was like a little sponge with pigtails, soaking up the world.
"That's... that's just something eggheads talk about. Scientists. It's about how everything works together."
"Like plumbing?"
Sal considered this. "Yeah. Like plumbing. Everything connected. Everything flowing. You put too much pressure in one spot, something's gonna give."
Maria nodded sagely and went back to her fish.
Sal sat in his chair, listening to the hum that wouldn't go away, and wondered what kind of pressure was building on the USS Eldridge.
At noon, the phone rang.
This was unusual. The Lombardis had a phone—a black rotary job that sat on a little table in the hall—but it mostly received calls from Rosa's sisters, who called to gossip about other sisters. When Sal answered, he expected his sister-in-law Concetta's voice, high and rapid, full of news about who was dating whom and who had said what at church.
Instead, he got Muldoon.
"Lombardi? That you?"
"Chief?" Sal gripped the receiver tighter. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Something's... different. You remember those eggheads you asked about? The ones with the cables?"
"Yeah."
"They want to talk to you."
Sal waited for the punchline. It didn't come. "Why do eggheads want to talk to a plumber?"
"Hell if I know. But the tall one—Hollister—he specifically asked for you by name. Said you had an 'interesting perspective.'" Muldoon's voice dripped with skepticism. "You got any idea what that means?"
Sal thought about the hum. About the vibration in his teeth. About unified field theory and pressure and things that give.
"No," he said. "No idea."
"Well, get down here anyway. Two o'clock. They're in Building 47, the old admin building near the dry dock. Don't be late. These guys get twitchy when people are late."
The line went dead.
Sal stood in the hall, listening to the dial tone, listening to the hum underneath it.
ns216.73.216.1da2
and then Add to home screen.