Redux

So Wilhelmina lives. She submits her resignation papers to the BGA on her return to Berlin, effective immediately. Her goodbyes are cordial, but firm. The BGA was slowing her down, the crushing weight of its bureaucracy overbearing by the end.

And soon she's on a plane back to London, her equipment not far behind. Though first, she owes a favour to a friend.

Soon enough, Wilhelmina is in Swansea's Uplands, bearing a box of tapes, CDs, and memory sticks to Myrddin's remaining family—along with the news of his death.

And in handing them over, her duty is done, before she forgets him. For in time, none but the lost will ever know why he died.

Wilhelmina is efficient upon returning to London. There's a makeshift studio in her new apartment within three weeks of leaving APERIS, a website and a pilot episode in a month. She calls it The Listening Post—though even she forgets the title's true origin as the months go by. Research of all kinds is allowed on The Listening Post, if Wilhelmina considers it rigorous enough to discuss. It becomes the unexpected smash hit of 2011.

Though, if anyone were to look at launch, they would notice a note in the 'About Us' section of the website:

The Listening Post is dedicated to Myrddin Gwilym Pritchard, 1953-2011. A dear colleague, and a friend.

The years pass, and Wilhelmina forgets, but Syrinx remains. Yet Syrinx has gone quiet. And The Listening Post keeps Wilhelmina busy these days. Ever-more prominent guests clamour to be on the show. Frances appears at one point (if reluctantly). Even her former co-host from Parallax, Ruth Ellery, gets an episode. Wilhelmina's status and acclaim grows, and as the 2010s march on, her show becomes widely beloved.

So too grows her community of internet sleuths, independent scientists, and freelance researchers she has been fostering ever since the first episode: they are the anonymous members of The Listening Post's forums. They often draw on her expertise, while she encourages collaboration on upcoming episodes. Those she trusts most assist in her investigations into Syrinx, too. But try as she might, Syrinx's trail is dead. Wilhelmina doesn't concede. This particular personal project simply gets… shelved, increasingly. Syrinx is still out there. But it can wait.

It's 2019, and it's late. Tomorrow, it'll have been eight years since The Listening Post launched. It's now an award-winning show, with its flourishing research community namedropped in a speech by the year's Nobel Prize Winner in Medicine. Wilhelmina has to admit she's proud.

She's sitting in a booth in a small studio—though she's not recording anything. Instead, Wilhelmina listens intently—now-aging devices set to that same frequency which has haunted her for nearly two decades. It's perfect. Surely Syrinx has to return to her now. And for a moment, she thinks she hears something whisper that electrifying phrase from all those years ago—“Wilhelmina… You're hearing me at last!”—but no.

The dead air is simply dead air. And as the digital clock in the corner reaches 4am, Wilhelmina sighs—and shuts off the devices. Syrinx will come back one day, she's sure of it.

But for now, Wilhelmina has another calling. Gently, Wilhelmina switches off the lights in the booth, and leaves; the 'RECORDING' sign flickers off.

The static that lingers in her wake just a moment longer crackles, then. And if you were to strain enough to catch it, perhaps there's a string of words there, waiting to finally be heard—or perhaps, at last, there's simply silence on the air for Wilhelmina Wunderin.