Nowhere, On Air
Semi-late night community radio broadcasts from a strange little town in the Crowsnest Pass, Alberta (aka, not just the middle of nowhere, but nowhere itself). Nothing ever happens here. Certainly nothing weird. Why would you even suggest that? Listen close. Don't wander off. It's a long way to get where you're going. Especially out here.
Nowhere, On Air
Episode 28: Many Happier Returns
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Hey there, listeners. Its... good, to be back.
Sound effects this episode thanks to FreeSound.org contributors: kmoon, jefferys2, deepseapro, and sheyvan.
Nowhere, On Air is created, voiced and produced by Jess Syratt. Cover art by Moon Hermit Crab on Instagram.
We'd love to hear from you! Email us at nowhere.onair@gmail.com. Or, find us on twitter, @NowhereOnAir
JESS: Hey there, listeners. Long time no… radio show…?
Well, for me. I understand it hasn’t been long for you at all. A week or two, something like that. Which- is a lot to take in, frankly. And so that’s all we’re gonna say about it right now.
But it's me. Not sure you expected to be hearing my voice again. I certainly didn’t expect to be back here, doing this. But expectations are tricky things, and I admit I’m tired of having them. Is there any point to having them when the unexpected seems to insist on being painfully pervasive throughout our lives?
Anyways.
I hope you’re all alright. Sorry if this seems a little rocky, but I’m a little rusty in the, uh, radio department. Especially uh, pirate radio. Never done that before.
[FLIPPING THROUGH SCRIPT]
I’m just looking at what we have to talk about tonight.
Yes. Right.
Not much, information wise. And especially not much that you already don’t know. Any information on the incident that occured two days ago in town was very quickly hidden from us, so aside from Don’s minimal first person account which we’ll be touching on later on, we really don’t have a lot to go on. It seems to have scared a lot of you into uh, not talking to us. Which, may I just say:
Completely and utterly valid. Fear is a thing that no one can blame you for. An instinctual thing. We all feel it. Arched backs, seized up shoulders, a prickling spine- and if whatever this is has scared you, then we’re scared too. And that’s okay.
Maybe we should be scared. Scared of the things that have the power to hurt us.
I’ve been informed of a lot these past 48 hours. I understand that there are very few of you-- well, for uh, safety reasons I’ll say I’m sure there are none of you-- who know where we are. And I understand that it's been that way for a little while here. I wanted to just quickly apologize for that, listeners.
Martha’s looking panicked- I’m not gonna tell you where we are, that’s not a part of this apology or a choice I could or should make for the group. I just- I’m sorry if this separation ever made or makes you feel in any way like we’ve abandoned you. We haven’t. I mean sure, we’re physically distanced from you all and with that comes some emotional distance from the community- but we’re still with you. Like this. The sounds of our voices and we’re still working towards… towards…
I mean, I don’t know. I don’t know if the others were putting on a brave face, and I’m sorry if that’s what you want but I don’t have the energy to do so. We don’t really have any plans. We’re- our minds are still focused on, well, where to go from here. But where do we go from here? Realistically? What do we do?
The small part of me that thought maybe, just maybe I could come back here, come home, and everything would just be normal, feel normal- I don’t know. It was overly optimistic, I guess. Because this is insane. This never even crossed my mind. I’ve sat here, in front of a mic, and read broadcast after broadcast about weird shit and strange stuff that shouldn’t be possible- and, honesty time, maybe wasn’t always the truest- but this. I never thought… you know? This doesn’t even feel real- how can it be real? I feel like- like I’m not even here, y’know? This is too much. Fucking-- I’m sorry. I’m sorry this is too much. I'm sorry folks I’ve never, uh, done this before. I've never done that before. I think- I think I need some air-- Martha, can we--
[TRANSITION]
Sorry about that, folks. It won’t happen again, I promise. And I don’t want to spoil the little weather report we have later, but it's very nice outside.
The wind has settled into a gently ebbing breeze. The grass shifts in the shadow of the mountains, closer than I remember them being. Somewhere nearby, a whippoorwill is calling. The sun has turned in for the night, and there are swirling, shifting coloured lights slowly rising like smoke into the star-studded sky. Those lights and sounds… in some weird way, I missed them. Before, I forgot how- how deathly quiet the nights can get. How dark and deep and gaping.
We’re also farther away than we were from them before. The low, pulsing, mechanical sound could almost be mistaken for- for distant music. The lights look more like coloured, dancing clouds.
But there’s another sound, folks. Something closer. Something deeper. I’ve been hearing it since the moment I got back.
Do you hear it?
That sound. I can’t even describe it, folks. I’m not sure our equipment would even pick it up, it's somehow so faint and so piercing at the same. You might be able to hear it on the air when we’re not broadcasting, though.
And… okay. Y’know, I’m just speculating here listeners so forgive me for anything contrary that may come about- but this sound. The one you all, according to the others, can’t hear, the one I heard when I came back, though am slowly losing my ability to hear. I think it might be connected to the- the headaches we’ve all been experiencing. I know thats a thing going on. The exhaustion. The fog-ridden days. The restless, buzzing nights.
At least, at the risk of sounding paranoid, my instincts are saying so. Are telling me to keep an ear out for something. Something stirring just beneath the air, seeping into our minds. A slow sort of subtle corruption. A slow stream of water, a river, raging the wrong way against some barrier and eventually the dam will break.
Think about it. After everything we’ve seen and heard and put up with, does it sound that weird to say? That what comes through over the air might be dangerous? Beyond just words and their meanings.
Well, yeah, maybe a little. But not wholly unreasonable. It wouldn’t be the first time it's happened, wouldn’t it?
Sorry. That was actually super off topic. Uh, anyways.
[TRANSITION]
We’ve had a good look around our new basement, and can now confidently encourage you all to do so as well! If you haven’t already. If you are someone who now has a basement but did not before, feel free to become as familiar with this new space as you would like!
Again, maybe you have already. I know you’ve been in your homes for a few days and maybe got bored, which, who could blame you for entertaining curiosity?
I am aware there is still an alternate voice inhabiting your speakers when we are not broadcasting, and that voice is telling you not to do so, but… well, it's up to you to choose who you want to listen to. Who you trust. Which voice, to you, sounds like a friend. Don’t you trust me, listeners? Now that I’m back?
But, our basement. Sorry we did a pretty bare bones job of talking about it when it first appeared but there was a lot going on.
Its qualities are simple enough. Stone stairs leading down into a stone womb. Like Tanner mentioned last time, aside from the texture on the walls, and the faint smell of damp earth, there is nothing strange, or more importantly dangerous about these basements.
River, in all their wonderful ambiguity, keeps calling these burrows a “precautionary gift” --whatever that means-- but given the track record of those they are associated with, we are going to uh, believe them. And wait and see what happens.
A lot of what’s going on right now feels like it's going to be waiting and seeing what happens.
[Pause]
But, uh, while we’re waiting, we’ve wrangled up a little traffic report for you all tonight. Well, traffic as in… foot traffic.
Those people- the ones we aren’t really supposed to refer to but that aren’t The Faceless- are out and about as usual. According to my script, we’re still in the process of determining if there’s some sort of schedule or pattern to their movements, if they’re patrolling as opposed to meandering, but we’ll let you know if that leads anywhere.
So far, per that announcement that came through the airwaves this morning, it sounds like you all are now free to continue, more or less, with your normal, daily lives! Normal perhaps being a generous word, but school, work, simply enjoying the familiar ins and outs of town are now fair game-- albeit supervised. Please enjoy these doubly on our behalf.
Just, remember the rules I’m told Tanner outlined for you. And stay safe.
[TRANSITION]
I’d like to preface our next update by saying thank you to those who have reached out to us with some new information regarding the recent incident that we were previously unaware of. It's not much, and it’s not happy news, but any news is news. It doesn’t have to have a moral or emotional association. Information is a gift at the best of times, and an asset at the worst. We are grateful for everything we can get, everything you are willing to share. Even when it means sharing something we regret to inform you of.
And the news we regret to inform you of is this:
Dr. Olsen has- apparently and inexplicably- vanished. It seems no one has seen him since the incident which, again, was two days ago now, and we here at the, well, not the station, are still unsure of what the incident was, precisely. As we’re having to maintain a certain distance from the community for now, and it seems that, again, the ‘stay in your homes’ order was lifted only this morning, no one noticed until now that Clark was gone.
This is alarming and upsetting news, but important to know all the same. I don’t know about you folks, but this makes me feel that ‘prickling on the back of my neck’ fear that I mentioned earlier. I’m not sure why.
It's an unfortunate thing that disappearances aren’t that much of a rarity in this town, but… something feels off about this one. And… well, I can’t help but feel almost guilty about the idea that Dr. Olsen has been gone for two days, and no one noticed. No one knew. Not that it is anyone’s fault, and i wasnt even here. But still.
[She sighs]
This feels like a pretty good segue into our own understanding of the incident.
Don- uh, Officer Carlton’s- hand-written this portion of the script as it was his own account and he felt nervous about coming on air, but- forgive me if I have a hard time reading it, my head hurts and I’m terrible with cursive--
[Leaning back and calling]
Don, you really write in cursive? Like, regularly?
[Back into the mic]
It's short. Half a page, so just… give me a second here, folks.
[Some silence, muttering.]
Okay, so my understanding of this is, there was some sort of gathering- keep in mind this was before the stay in your homes order was lifted- in the motel parking lot where a large group of townspeople began quote “causing a ruckus” unquote, and, quote, “captured the attention of a lot of those mysterious folk who seem to be keeping an eye on things” unquote. Apparently, it was a pretty rowdy scene, and there were even some minor confrontations, but no property was damaged, and as far as we’re aware, all those present avoided capture- I mean, being arrested.
Well. We are not sure if Clark was there, and if maybe that is where he disappeared from. It sounds like this could be considered a protest, of sorts, which- I don’t know. I don’t know what to say about this. I’m sure there are many of you listening who have a substantially better understanding of what happened than we do. And a better understanding of the whole situation than I do.
And Clark, if you can hear us, somehow:
I don’t really know what to say here either. We’re sorry. We miss you. We- we know you’re gone now and- and we won’t forget it.
[TRANSITION]
I won’t confirm whether or not I met with Weatherman Todd Stevenson earlier today, and I can’t definitively comment on whether or not it was lovely to see his familiar face again, but like I said earlier, we do have something by way of a weather report for you tonight. And it is a “weather report” in that it comes from our very own weatherman, but that is where the technical correlation stops.
That report is that all of Todd’s equipment was confiscated by those people, but he trusts that we all have enough experiences with the weather to make informed and sensible choices when it comes to outdoor activities. He did say he was immensely surprised that it hasn’t snowed at all yet, and could not accurately comment on whether or not we should expect snow in the next little while, but his instincts say that at least the rest of this week is going to be ‘very nice out.’
Todd provided no definition for what ‘nice out’ means in scientific terms, so I guess just expect whatever that means for you.
Lastly, our weatherman friend also asked if we could do a favour for him on air:
Todd, who has been trying all day, has been unable to contact or touch base with anyone involved in the Mountain Watch. He is not sure why, and hopes that the other members aren’t just, ignoring him. If that is the case, and he did something to upset them, he is unaware of what it could have been and hopes that they might explain the situation to him so he can properly apologize.
If that isn’t the case, he urges any member who can to do whatever they can to get in contact with him immediately, as the confiscation of his equipment included the monitoring cameras the Mountain Watch uses. A certain local photographer has donated the use of two of their 35mm film cameras, a Super 8, and access to a developing studio in the meantime, but, judging by our beloved weatherman’s tone, this loss of equipment does not bode well.
Todd would like me to end the report by saying: If you have any information, but are under duress, please, by all means, it is best to keep it to yourself. However, if you have information and are able to safely and covertly share it, please do.
Y’know what? I think that will be our general policy about information sharing moving forward.
[TRANSITION]
Listeners, friends, at the risk of coming across, well, grumpy, I only want to say this once:
Where I was. What happened. All that… jazz…
I won’t be talking about it. Please, everyone, stop asking. None of you have asked me directly which I appreciate, even Todd only gave me some curious, narrow glances, but I know you’re asking yourselves. Eachother. The… ether. Curiosity can’t be helped, but it's not important. I’m back. Just… let me be back.
[TRANSITION]
We’re reaching the end of what we have for you tonight, folks. Seriously, all that’s left in my base script is the usual closing section which is “Jess gets to say what she wants for two minutes MAX” and I’m thankful for the update we got over the break because I haven’t thought of anything to say yet. I’m still getting used to this. Readjusting. And I’m not sure if the explicit inclusion of this segment is Martha trying to trick me into talking about all that. But, anyways. Before we get to that:
We do have some additional information on the incident that I’m sure you’ll be very interested to hear. Thanks again to those who’ve reached out.
Farmer Daniels, sometime during the chaos of the incident, escaped whatever custody he was being held in. This was accomplished, reportedly, with the help of a few now defected members of the local RCMP- Officers Van Rimm and Glendin- as well as John Mulroy, Carla, Shauna Housely, and Herman Blanchard of the stargazing club. We cannot confirm whether or not we’ve been on contact with them but assure you we were given permission to use their names. We could reasonably assume this was related to the disturbance reported in the motel parking lot- and, yes- Carlton is confirming that in fact a few of the folks I listed were present at that incident.
Furthermore- now, I should preface by saying this is an unconfirmed rumour, folks-- but it sounds like this group not only freed the wrongfully arrested Daniels, but also broke back into Clarence’s property, and stole something. Well, I guess not stole because the property and everything on it was originally his, but you know what I mean. We have no idea what this was or again, if this is actually true, or where this group might be now (laying low like we are, I imagine) but… I don’t know, it's exciting to hear something is happening that isn’t… utterly shitty.
I can also swear on air now, I guess. That’s fun. I apologize if you’re listening with your kids.
[TRANSITION]
Okay, now, we’re at the end of our show. Or at the ‘Jess gets to close off with her thoughts’ part of our show. And, I know what I want to talk about.
I got here unexpectedly. Both times. But this time it was a homecoming I didn’t really see coming. You can hope for things and still never truly believe that they’ll happen…
But I got here, back here, and- well, they’d made a room for me. They didn’t even know I was coming, yet my friends had set up a room for me in this place. Carlton had even gone to my trailer and grabbed some of my belongings before it was impounded.
My curtains. My kettle. A picture of some of us with James’ shadow, because she wouldn’t show up in any pictures.
A box of postcards I kept under my bed. Postcards I would write to my parents, once a month, and send knowing they could never be delivered because that address doesn’t exist here and they were always sent back. A box of half blank, half undeliverable postcards.
And, I don’t know… I was just thinking:
Do you think home is a place? A, a physical, definite place, something quantifiable and- and graspable? Or- or not.
If it's a thing you can measure and touch and feel then- then it is a thing you can lose. A thing that can die- not in a mortal sense, I guess but- something that you can have is something that you can then not have.
Was home the world I left behind the first time, or the way I feel when I miss it? The way I grieve when I think about it. Is home a place, or the memory of that place, and the way we carry it with us?
Is home the room I stepped into, the room they made for me, or the way it made me feel? Or is home in the hands that set up the room?
The fact that they made me a room at all, is that home?
Is home a concrete place? Or just… somewhere you are always expected, always welcomed?
I don’t really know what I’m saying- I’m just, I’ve been thinking about it.
I’m glad to be home, though, listeners. Thanks for being my home. Whatever that means.
And thanks for tuning in.
[MUSIC. STATIC. INTO:]
JESS: Hey. Martha. I’m just gonna keep addressing these to you because… well, I miss talking to you. And you’re the one that taught me to record my thoughts. It's nice, to have something to do aside from hike and- and I’m just stopping to rest and I- I don’t know… I can’t get out of my head when it's the only thing making any- any solid noise so I thought this would help but…
It was my birthday. I know its a stupid thing to keep coming back to. But it was. And I mean, getting kidnapped and like- I don’t know, it was a lot. I keep- living it over in my head. Worst birthday present ever. [SHE LAUGHS AND SIGHS] And now I’m here. Stuck. And, if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’m going to last long.
Hopefully if something happens, this gets found or reaches someone somehow and- well, at least someone across space and time and whatever lies in between will know what happened to me. Will hear my voice.
My parents still don’t know what happened to me. You don’t know what happened to me, but maybe someone will. I’ll keep recording these until they do. Or until I can’t anymore.
I’m starting to feel like I’ve gone through one too many existences and I don't exist anymore.
If someone’s listening to this, don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve given up on that. Going home. Not Braedon, but home. I couldn’t live trying to move backwards. Life is a one way street where the speed limit is always changing and traffic is somehow always clear and always backed up simultaneously. It propels us forward like the snow, melting on the mountain, turning into a rushing river of glacier water and gravity. Whether or not we’re ready for it.
I think, even if I could go back home, there wouldn't be a place for me there anymore. I wouldn’t belong there anymore. But Braedon? I haven’t given up hope on that yet. Not yet. I can’t move forward without it.
[SHE SIGHS AND STANDS]
Speaking of…
[WALKING. STATIC. END.]