"-came alone, didn't you?" said the voice on the radio.
The poker in my hand hovered inches from the campfire as I froze and listened to the gentle static drifting through the only electronic device for miles. The steady stream of smooth jazz I'd been listening to on AM had fizzled out, leaving me alone with the night birds and the tiny clock radio with the blinking display I never bothered to set.
The automated program I listened to on these outings played from a tiny town just across the state line. It was programmed to run unassisted for hours every night, connecting the evening news to the sunrise sign-on around six. The voice sounded like the morning DJ, but his show wasn't starting for quite some time.
The radio repeated its question, and I legitimately thought for a moment it was speaking to me. Then a second voice chimed in, shrill and slow but dripping with authority. Its words buzzed, as though their own frequency distorted the transmission.
It said, in an plodding, emotionless tone, "You... Have... Failed..."
I set the poker down, my hands shaking as I drew my knees in and pulled the blanket around my shoulders. Here I sat with a rare opportunity: A glimpse behind the scenes at the smallest of small town radio stations, listening in on a discussion unintended for broadcast. A voyeuristic shiver ran down my spine. What juicy tidbits might I hear?
The DJ paused a moment before speaking again. "I don't... Where are you? Turn the lights back on."
Silence and static rang through the night around me for several minutes. The fire waned unattended, already vanishing to embers as I sat and stared at the blinking red clock on the radio box.
After some time, the buzzing returned. "You... Broke... Contract..."
"What, is this about the signal? I've been playing it all the time, I thought that was what you--" A choking noise erupted from the radio, so loud and sharp the speakers popped and sent me leaping from my perch.
"Too... Much... The test... Is Ruined..."
The red glow of the blinking display drowned out the dying firelight, and I could only sit and stare at the radio while the sounds of a violent struggle overtook the broadcast. A chair kicked over, glass smashed on a metal case, and a strangled scream rose to stopper it all before the sound of gentle static fell over the air once again.
Breath stuck in my throat as I waited for more. A noise like long nails fumbling with a button clicked out of the radio. Then the slow, dreadful voice returned.
"Sleep..." It said.
And I blacked out.
The poker in my hand hovered inches from the campfire as I froze and listened to the gentle static drifting through the only electronic device for miles. The steady stream of smooth jazz I'd been listening to on AM had fizzled out, leaving me alone with the night birds and the tiny clock radio with the blinking display I never bothered to set.
The automated program I listened to on these outings played from a tiny town just across the state line. It was programmed to run unassisted for hours every night, connecting the evening news to the sunrise sign-on around six. The voice sounded like the morning DJ, but his show wasn't starting for quite some time.
The radio repeated its question, and I legitimately thought for a moment it was speaking to me. Then a second voice chimed in, shrill and slow but dripping with authority. Its words buzzed, as though their own frequency distorted the transmission.
It said, in an plodding, emotionless tone, "You... Have... Failed..."
I set the poker down, my hands shaking as I drew my knees in and pulled the blanket around my shoulders. Here I sat with a rare opportunity: A glimpse behind the scenes at the smallest of small town radio stations, listening in on a discussion unintended for broadcast. A voyeuristic shiver ran down my spine. What juicy tidbits might I hear?
The DJ paused a moment before speaking again. "I don't... Where are you? Turn the lights back on."
Silence and static rang through the night around me for several minutes. The fire waned unattended, already vanishing to embers as I sat and stared at the blinking red clock on the radio box.
After some time, the buzzing returned. "You... Broke... Contract..."
"What, is this about the signal? I've been playing it all the time, I thought that was what you--" A choking noise erupted from the radio, so loud and sharp the speakers popped and sent me leaping from my perch.
"Too... Much... The test... Is Ruined..."
The red glow of the blinking display drowned out the dying firelight, and I could only sit and stare at the radio while the sounds of a violent struggle overtook the broadcast. A chair kicked over, glass smashed on a metal case, and a strangled scream rose to stopper it all before the sound of gentle static fell over the air once again.
Breath stuck in my throat as I waited for more. A noise like long nails fumbling with a button clicked out of the radio. Then the slow, dreadful voice returned.
"Sleep..." It said.
And I blacked out.
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