Daniel Conderman 
While the rest of the world is blind in the darkness—lost in screens, buffering, and dependent on fickle cell towers—Max Gains screams through the night, illuminated by the hidden radio all around us.
The tires squeal on dew-slick asphalt as he rounds another rural curve. His dashboard flickers like the helm of a ghost ship—six HTs live, one handheld snug in the RH1 cup holder, another blinking with a signal he’s never seen before. The Nagoya mag-mount thrums with energy. On 161.460 MHz, a whisper cuts through: “Norfolk Southern, track clear to the ridge…”
Max already knows.
He’s got fingers on six different pulses. He might not know which idiot politician is trending, but he knows where the fire broke out. He knows that Amtrak is running 47 minutes late and speeding up to make it look good. He knows that somewhere in the fog-drenched east, a balloon festival is prepping for a launch at sunrise, and the FAA’s already flagged the airspace. He’s listening to the winds before anyone even notices they’ve changed direction.
“Max Gains,” they call him over the air sometimes. Other times he’s just static—the guy who shows up when the world blinks out.
And tonight? The air is electric.
A low EOT ping hits 457.9375 MHz. A train is nearby—no lights, no horn, just motion in the periphery. His antenna picks it up before his eyes do. The voices start stacking up. CTAF crackles from a sleepy county airfield. BNSF dispatch on Channel 36 cuts in over the scanner. A woman’s voice calmly reads coordinates Max hasn’t heard before. Something’s up.
He leans into the curve, one hand on the wheel, one hand spinning the dial. Every HT in his car is assigned—Air, Rail, Fire, GMRS, Ham, Scanner—and he juggles them like a street magician with a weather warning in his back pocket.
Lightning flashes. Ahead, a figure stands by a decommissioned signal tower. Max doesn’t stop—but he logs the moment. Everything gets logged.
He’s chasing signals most people don’t know exist. While others wait for breaking news, Max Gains is already there, standing in the shadows with the frequency on lock.
Because someone has to listen.
And someone has to chase.
Max Gains: Field Mission Log
Frequency Division – Mobile Ops Sector
🛰️ MISSION DATA
Callsign: Max Gains
Date: ____________________
Mission Code: ____________________
Vehicle: 2009 Ford Focus — “The Skip Chaser”
Status: [ ] Active [ ] Cold Standby [ ] Scrambled
📍 LOCATION DATA
Start Point: ______________________________________
Grid / Lat-Long: ___________________________________
Weather Conditions: [ ] Clear [ ] Fog [ ] Rain [ ] Thunderstorm
Notes:
📡 ACTIVE FREQUENCIES MONITORED
| Band | Frequency (MHz) | Purpose / Notes |
|---|---|---|
| VHF | ||
| UHF | ||
| Air | ||
| Rail | ||
| GMRS | ||
| Other |
🔥 INCIDENT / INTEL REPORT
Time Logged: ____________________
Signal Origin: __________________
Description:
🚗 PURSUIT / DEPLOYMENT NOTES
Observed Activity: ____________________________________________
Vehicle Movement:
[ ] Parked Monitoring [ ] Mobile Patrol [ ] High-Speed Pursuit
Traffic / Hazards: ____________________________________________
✅ END OF MISSION SUMMARY
Final Location: ____________________________________________
Mission Outcome:
[ ] Intel Collected [ ] False Alarm [ ] Escalation Logged [ ] Event Under Review
🖋️ Signed: ____________________
🔻 Transmit when ready. The night always speaks.
