Frequency of Corruption
[SOUND: STATIC, LOW HUM, OCCASIONAL CRACKLE]
(VOICE, strained, a little hoarse) ...is this thing on? Hello? Anyone out there? You’re listening to WBYZ, the only station brave enough to tell you what they don't want you to know. They’re calling it a “flu season,” a “rare environmental anomaly.” Lies. All lies. I've seen the black ooze, folks. I've smelled the petrol and the… the wrongness.
(VOICE, growing more distorted, a wet, gurgling undertone) They say it’s in the water, in the air. But I think… I think it’s in the silence. It fills the gaps. The gaps between your thoughts. The gaps in the news. It grows there, like a beautiful, black flower. Can you hear it? The static? It’s talking to me. It says… it says there’s no escape. Only… only evolution.
[SOUND: SHARP BURST OF STATIC, VOICE OVERLAPPED BY A DEEP, GURGLING CHORUS, LIKE MULTIPLE VOICES SPEAKING AT ONCE, WORDS INDISTINGUISHABLE]
(VOICE, barely human, a rasping whisper) It wants… it wants to be heard. It wants… *us* to be heard. All of us. Together. A choir. A beautiful… black… symphony. Join… join the signal. Let it… let it flow. The frequency… the frequency is changing… (SOUND: GURGLING, WET CHOKING, THEN A HIGH-PITCHED SCREECH, CUT OFF BY SUDDEN SILENCE, FOLLOWED BY LOW, CONSTANT HUM)
[Recording recovered from an abandoned pirate radio station, Kingsmouth, Solomon Island.]