Short Story - Trip to the Big Smoke

Bob, known affectionately as "scannerFreak," was a small-town guy through and through. So when he planned a day trip to Hobart—the “Big Smoke”—he was more than ready for a fresh set of frequencies to track. Armed with his handheld scanner and a list of pre-programmed channels, Bob was excited to hear what the bustling city had to offer.

He packed light: a backpack with spare batteries, some logging sheets, his carefully disguised lunch box scanner case, and, of course, his list of known UHF frequencies for retail and security teams. His goal was to see how many stores, shopping centres, and cleaning crews he could tune into. In his small town, Bob knew the frequencies by heart, but Hobart was a new playground, full of unknowns.

First stop was a large shopping centre right in the heart of the city. Bob found a quiet spot in the food court and set up his scanner, hiding it inside the lunch box case and positioning the antenna just so. Within moments, he had CloseCall running and began picking up various signals, tuning into UHF frequencies as he sipped his coffee. A faint crackle came through—security was chatting about a suspicious shopper loitering around the jewellery store. Bob grinned as he jotted down the frequency and tone, pleased to have found his first “catch” of the day.

As the day went on, Bob explored other shopping centres, scanning with a mix of CloseCall and manually flipping through his pre-set frequencies. Some transmissions were routine—store managers giving directions, cleaners coordinating schedules, and the occasional UHF CB conversation between a few bored employees. But there were gems too: he picked up on a brief squabble between two security guards, arguing over who had the last lunch break, and a group of store employees laughing over a coffee order mix-up.

After a few hours, Bob took a break in the atrium of a busy shopping centre, placing his lunch box scanner case beside him as he dug out a sandwich. He was about halfway through when he heard a voice on his scanner—a cleaner reporting a spill on aisle five. He leaned back, half-listening, half-watching the bustling crowd, feeling like an unseen observer in the city’s web of daily life.

When he finished eating, he got up, leaving his lunch box scanner case on the bench. He wandered off, admiring the architecture and people-watching for a few minutes before he remembered, with a jolt, his scanner. He spun around, heart pounding, and saw a security guard eyeing the lone lunch box curiously. Bob hurried over, snagging it just in time, muttering an apology and offering a disarming smile. The guard gave him a quizzical look but shrugged, probably assuming it was just another absent-minded tourist.

By the end of the day, Bob had filled pages of his notebook with frequencies, channel IDs, and notes on various transmissions. It was satisfying to have collected so many new targets, but as he finally hit the road back home, he felt a familiar relief wash over him. Hobart had been fun, no doubt, but the crowds, the noise, the sheer number of people—it all made him long for the slower pace of his hometown. Back home, he knew everyone and every signal, and he could scan the airwaves without looking over his shoulder.

Pulling into his driveway that evening, Bob left his scanner case in the garage, still packed, and leaned back in his favourite chair, feeling the quiet settle around him. The capital city was exciting, but it was good to be back where the signals were familiar, the people were few, and the air was filled with voices he knew by heart.