You Hear A Strange Radio Transmission

[TheEldritchGod]

Greetings from great bear island!

Where the air is crisp.

The fresh snow sparkles.

And strange glowing wolves are slowly circling your home.

 

I am your host, Robert York, and I’ll be taking you through the Midnight hour to the early morning, or until the aurora finally flares out, which ever comes first.

 

This is my latest transmission into the ether in a vane hope to finally reach another human being somewhere on this planet and bring an end my sophistristic existence. 

 

If you want to reach me, I am deep beneath the mountain military instillation in a subterranean cyclopean labyrinth of steam tunnels, surrounded by leaking pipes that have grown cancerous, and the strange phosphorus materials that have collected in frozen pools beneath them.

 

Down here I have found one single haven of warmth, a disused bathroom with an easily barricaded door. Now, logically, I know I have nothing to fear in this abandoned maze, but even as I speak into this microphone, I finger this sharpened leg from an abandoned vanity set, for it gives me comfort against a horrifying conclusion:

 

Something is down here with me.

 

I have not seen it, nor any sign of it’s passing, but it is here.

 

So if you come looking for me, watch out, for the beast.

 

 

 

And now, a public service announcement.

 

The Desolation Point Whale Watchers are on a recruiting drive. They would like to remind everyone that a fair number of buildings are still lit by whale oil, and until we finally get those crystals to directly harness aurora energy, the Quonset Garage will still need oil, and that means: We. Need. WHALES.

 

So, if you have some spare time, why not go out with the Desolation Point Whale Watchers and spend some time watching for these majestic creatures. Their long and supple forms, their peaceful and ancient songs that they sing as they perform their many daily activities such as, eating krill or performing a slow under water ballet in a subtle social interaction that hints of higher intelligence.

 

Hopefully that will quickly be followed by the sickening thud of a harpoon impaling one of the leviathans.

 

Those you help haul it to shore will be paid with 10 kilograms of raw whale blubber. Can’t beat that with a stick. Whales are too big. You really need to use the harpoons.

 

Trust me on this one.

 

This has been a public service announcement.

 

 

 

And now, letters from the listeners.

 

I found a letter here from a listener, I think. Or maybe I just wrote it and forgot I did, like so many of the previous ones.

 

This one is from a young lady named Beth to a gentleman named Cogsworth.

 

Cogsworth,

I want to burrow into your chest and lay my eggs.

Love,

Beth

 

I'm not up on teen slang these days, but it sure seems that Beth has the hots for Cogsworth. You'll have to stay on your toes if you want to stay single, mister

 

 

Now, That said,

 

It's difficult to understand what other people feel about us. We exist as frightened creatures, evaluating our self worth based on what other people think about us. We have found it’s best to assume that people think the worst about us, and thus we are all happily surprised when we discover that someone actually wants us for who we are.

 

So, to you, Cogsworth, my advice is, go for it! You never know where a relationship may take you, and the road not taken is the road that will haunt you. Haunt you until your dying day. Fill you with regret and poison all your future relationships as you measure them against an impossible to reach theoretical ideal that exists only in your head.

 

I recommend dinner and a movie. Just test the waters a little. Then, if you choose to get serious, follow it up with flowers, chocolates, and promises you don't intend to keep.

 

This has been, letters from the listeners

 

 

 

And now a word from our sponsor:

 

Touch your forehead to the glass.

Press it hard.

Stare.

Gaze with wonder.

Tremble in fear at the low, low, low prices within

 

Announcing the buy out of the abandoned Orca Station which has joined the Quonset, LLC  family. This Friday it will reopen under it’s new name, Orca X.

The X stands for EXTREME!

 

We are slashing our prices on taxidermy equipment and supplies.

We are slashing our prices on petrified animal carcasses.

We are slashing… EVERYTHING.

 

Our prices are insane.

Our prices have chewed off their own manipulative digits right down to twitching bloody stumps!

Our prices are gibbering due to mind numbing loneliness!

 

Consume.

CONSUME.

CON-SUME.

 

Support small town businesses.

THINK. globally.

ACT. Locally.

 

Shop ORCA X

NOW.

If You Know What’s Good For You.

 

This has been a word from our sponsor.

 

 

 

A message from The Great Bear Island Postal Service.

 

The local post office has announced a change in their offered product, return receipt requested.

 

From now on, if you are not present when the package is delivered to your home, it will be left on your doorstep. A large vulture will be released, and it will ascend into the sky to circle slowly about, far too high for the unaided human eye to perceive.

 

When you, or anyone for that matter, touches the package, the vulture will descend rapidly and strike like fiery vengeance from an offended demiurge. The vulture will then tear out exactly one, and only one, liver, then return to the post office, where it, your liver, will be sent back to the original sender, as confirmation the package was received.

 

This has been done for your convenience and to improve your postal service experience.

 

The Great Bear Island Postal Service: We don't go postal anymore. The pain is too intense.

 

This has been a message from The Great Bear Island Postal Service.

 

 

 

And now, business news:

 

I'm afraid it is no longer a rumor, folks. WheatCo has finally closed its’ doors for the last time.

 

WheatCo, creators of Centralized Wheat, produced and installed pneumatically delivered faucet-based wheat systems, so you could have wheat available on tap, conveniently located right at your kitchen skin.

 

Alas, despite federal bail out money, the aurora has caused all installed centralized wheat systems to violently kill anyone who activates them during an aurora event. WheatCo has been unable to retool for any other pneumatically delivered product. Attempts to convert to other substances such as mashed potatoes, iron filings, or ectoplasm, have all met with either insurmountable technical problems, or luke-warm customer interest.

 

The CEO was quoted as saying, "We just can't generate enough interest in the new products. We think it's because we can't get a viral video going. The firm that we hired to handle our re-branding apparently used an actual virus, and wiped out our entire target demographic.

 

Our target demographic were people who will lick anything, at least once, and people who don't know how to read a credit card statement, and thus pay their monthly bill without verifying if any of the charges are legit.

 

Also, I’m dead.

 

I froze to death.

 

Snap out of it, Rob!

 

You’re hallucinating again!”

 

The closing of WheatCo has resulted in the lay off the entire workforce of 12 individuals, and one collective consciousness. They can expect to receive up to 6 months of unemployment insurance.

 

You have six months.

SIX. MONTHS.

You HAVE to find a JOB in SIX. MONTHS.

 

This has been Business News

 

 

 

 

And now, the weather:

 

It’s going to be cold.

 

This has been, the weather.

 

 

 

Well, by the sight of the light that creeps into the broadcast booth, fighting against the aurora in spurts and thrusts across the floor, I can see that our time has come to an end.

 

As you struggle to wipe the sand from your eyes and the dawning realization that you have survived another night seeps into your brain, I ask this question:

 

Do you consider this a good thing?

 

Until next aurora,

 

Keep surviving, Survivors.

Edited June 2, 2018 by TheEldritchGod

[Skywonner]

That was amazing! I would really like to see more, and soon! I'll be tuning in, listening!

[TheEldritchGod]

Greetings from great bear island!
Where the air is crisp.
The fresh snow sparkles.
And strange glowing wolves are slowly circling your home.

I am your host, Robert York, and I’ll be taking you through the Midnight hour to the early morning, or until the aurora finally flares out, which ever comes first.

Before we get started, I'd like to let people know how to get to the disused bathroom that I am broadcasting from.

First, Go down the hallway. No, not literally down, just "down." At the first intersection, turn left. Then continue. Then left again. Then right. Then hyper-right. Then down. This time, literally down.

The next part is tricky. If you've followed the directions carefully, and successfully navigated all four spatial dimensions, you should be in a hallway.

The number on the door to the bathroom always changes. It's supposed a prime, but that's not much help since I never know what base the numbers are in. It's definitely not the door with screaming coming from it. Usually I just hope a toilet backs up and choose the door with a puddle under it. But make sure it's a puddle of water.

If you reach the moat, you've gone too far and you will be missed.

Don't forget the key. You'll need that. Not to unlock the door (it doesn't have a handle, just push) but to deal with the logic-puzzle involving three locked chests.

Good luck!

------

And now, clarification.
There seems to have been a misunderstanding.
This is a call in show, not a culling show.
People call in with questions.
You do not call in who you want culled.
Will all you wolves stop spamming me.

This has been, clarification

-------

And now, A political advertisement from Survivors for a higher minimum rage.

Fellow citizens.

Did you know that in the year since the apocalypse, rage disparity has increased dramatically? The difference in the amount of rage between your average apathetic survivor, and the one percent has widened over 70%, despite the fact that inflation has increased the over all amount of rage by 260%!

My fellow survivors, too long have the one percent among us possessed all the outrage and indignity. People today are disillusioned and have given up on any hope of becoming intolerant, tooth-gnashing firebrands of myopic opinions. If we are to have any hope of turning the apathetic children of today, into the ranting blowhards of tomorrow, we need to raise the federal minimum rage.

Our detractors would speak about how raising the minimum rage hurts small businesses, how we need to reduce the minimum rage to remain competitive. What they don't want you to hear is -

their screams.

As we beat them to death.

With lead pipes.

 

So join with us and ask to raise the minimum rage.
Think about the children.
Think how lazy they are.
Support Prop H8R

This has been a political advertisement from Survivors for a higher minimum rage.

-----------

And now, Local News

An update on this morning's book drive.

The book drive took a nasty turn when a copy of Friedrich Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra got all Ubermensch and challenged the herd alpha for control. The resulting stampede tore through mystery lake causing wide spread panic. A local wolf was quoted as saying, "woof."

Search parties are still looking for survivors.

We will update you as soon as more details become available.

This has been, Local news

------

And Now, a word from our sponsor

A child at school.
He is different.
The others wait until the watchers are distracted.
They surround him.
They prey upon his fears.
They melt way with the return of the watcher.
He speaks of his tormentors.
The watcher turns a blind eye.
He is punished.
He suffers in silence.
He weeps into his pillow.
He talks to his mirror.
He carries with him emptiness.
He does not know peace.
He never forms a meaningful connection.
He revels in the suffering of others.
It is the only sense of control he will ever know…

Until Now!

Pinkberry: Eat the sad away, fat kid.

This has been, a word from our sponsor.

 

And now, Letters from the listeners.

Dear Rob,

The sludge keeps getting closer. What should I do?

Sincerely,

Hateful Sludge.

 

Dear Hateful Sludge,

Thanks for your letter. Allow me to me the first to tell you, you're not alone. Hateful sludge is a real problem this time of year, what with the upcoming alignment.

As we all know, hateful sludge is the physical manifestation of all the sins that no longer can be contained within your frail human form. You can expect for this Sludge to continue to manifest until you take the following corrective measures:

    Molt - Now, I'm sure that you tried the obvious first, but it never hurts to start at the beginning. Just to be sure, even if you have already molted, do it again. Maybe you didn't do it right the first time.

    Feed a single potato chip to a cat - Again, I'm sure you tried this, but did you use an Oven Baked Lays Original chip? The cat in question, Was it a Russian Blue properly cross bred with a Siamese so that it's harsh vocalizations were pleasing to Maui the Time Shifter? You may have skipped this step, what with the high fatality rate of this remedy, but you really can't move on to more extreme solutions until you've tried the basics.

    Seek a professional - If you are still having problems, then clearly you have been learning too much forbidden knowledge. You awful, awful person. I'm afraid you've gone past ritualized cleansing and appeasement and need to seek the help of a professional. Such a professional will surely betray your trust and report you for the standing reward. So if you're a Do-it-yourself Handyman, or if you have run out of internal organs that can be harvested without perishing, you might try the following:

    Pretend to be someone else - Since the Hateful Sludge cannot see, this is fairly easy to do. Just talk loudly about how you are now leaving and never coming back, then stomp away. Return some time later and speak in a different voice. Ask everyone to loudly refer to you by a new name that begins with an "M". Hateful sludge finds words that begin with an "M" quite pleasing. However, any slip up, and the Hateful Sludge will redouble it's efforts. It may, in fact, make an alliance with the mildew festering in your shower grout. Normally it would never consider such an act, but there are depths hateful sludge will sink to, if it knows it has been tricked. So while this has been known to work, I cannot recommend it.

    Salt - You might not actually have Hateful Sludge, but Demonic Effluent. It's a common mistake, for demonic effluent is actually quite rare. Sprinkle the offending substance with salt. If it reacts by releasing a screech that triggers memories of crimes you never committed, you got that Effluent. This is easy to fix. Just search your home until you find your mephistophelian house guest. Usually he'll be hiding under a couch cushion or in your pillow case. When you find him, just look stern and waggle a finger in a disapproving fashion while saying, "Okay. You got me. You got me good." Your cloven-footed friend will then look sheepish and leave.

    Mint Enzyme Cleaner - This stuff is amazing. It's got live bacterial cultures that break down offending organic material and physical manifestations of sin, yet leaves a pine fresh scent behind in the process. Remember to alternate between spraying the enzyme and distilled water between scrubbing. It will take several days, but between enzyme and elbow grease, you should be able to clean up most minor outbreaks.

    Paint Your House Black - When all else fails, paint your entire house black, or replace your aluminum siding with any of the patterns available from the new Jackson Pollock collection. It's a last resort, but if you are going to continue to be a wretched miscreant that is truly unworthy of love, and you are on a budget, painting is the way to go. May I suggest you call up some friends and make a day of it.

This has been, letters from the listeners.

------

And so another day comes to a close. The sky starts to brighten in the south with the rising sun.

As my night ends, your day begins.
So I will leave you with this final thought.

We, as a culture, romanticize the unstoppable survivor. The survivor who is knocked down, only to rise back up again. The survivor who wins by simply refusing to die. The reality of such an individual is not so cinematic.

If life piles enough upon the back of a man, he will break, either his spirit or his mind. A man goes crazy when he gets to the point where he is surviving just to survive.

No longer living, only existing.

If you get good enough at enduring the trials and tribulations of existence, it becomes a primordial need manifested as psychosis. Yes, such a man could claw his way out of his own grave. But he cannot stop for even the most minor of injuries.

You can never rest. If you stop to heal, then you have to feel. Feeling is death to a man like that. You must always move forward. No matter how hard you are knocked down, you must get back up and keep going because of one simple belief.

Things will never get any better.
This is as good as it gets.

But as terrible and horrible as things may be, this is not truth, only conviction.
Eventually, we all need to heal.
Can you stop? Can you let it hurt?

Because we glorify such survivors, nobody will notice your pain.
Nobody will help you because people try to become as broken as you are.
The determinator. A force of nature.
Just as strong. Just as pitiless.

And when your Sisyphean task is at an end,
In a dark windowless room you will sit,
trapped alone with horrific truths…
and missing friends.

Just something to think about.

Until next aurora,

Keep surviving, Survivors.

Edited June 11, 2018 by TheEldritchGod

[TheEldritchGod]

On 6/8/2018 at 2:36 PM, Skywonner said:

That was amazing! I would really like to see more, and soon! I'll be tuning in, listening!

 

[dead frozen dude]

As I was reading this, pretty soon I was thinking about that guy from the song The End of Radio by Shellac.

Is this really broadcasting if there's no one out there to recieve?

[Bloodywren]

I’m getting the warm fuzzies that come from finding another “ Welcome to Nightvale” fan in the wild.

[xanna]

So glad you commented on this @Bloodywren, I missed it first time around and it's EXCELLENT 😍

[conanjaguar]

31 minutes ago, xanna said:

So glad you commented on this @Bloodywren, I missed it first time around and it's EXCELLENT 😍

Should we take over @TheEldritchGod’s role and revive this work of art?