KY321B; voice; night 007

[backsassin]

[ It’s the dead of night when the broadcasts start—short, choppy bursts initially, static interspersed with the occasional snatches of a woman’s voice against the low susurrus of waves on sand. It’s several long moments before they resolve into an actual message. ]

—anyone there? Please, anyone—I don’t care who you are, just say something!

[ There’s a clear edge of desperation in her voice and it’s no wonder; Zam had woken up pressed against a sand dune in the pitch black night, her last memory being of her own untimely murder. She’d thought she was buried at first, then in hell—and then she’d noticed the radio clutched in her one remaining hand. Then came the struggle of trying to figure out what it was and how to operate it one-handed in the dark and—suffice to say, she is experiencing a lot of stress at the moment. ]

Does this thing even work? [ More static as Zam starts blindly pressing buttons in the dark. ] —anyone receiving?

Comments

[obeir]

Zam. Shame we couldn't meet under better circumstances, but it's good to hear another voice out here. I arrived the same way. Woke up on the beach with this radio next to me, and no recollection of how I got here.

[ He considers her words for several moments, frowning in thought as he takes stock of his body. How different it feels, in ways that are difficult to articulate. It becomes more pronounced the longer he's here. Having never experienced hunger pangs before, he hasn't yet realised that's the source of his growing discomfort. ]

It feels real enough. [ Yet there's a hint of uncertainty in his voice. ] Even if— something here... changed me. Physiologically. [ Weakening him considerably in the process, though he refrains from sharing that detail just yet. The whole ordeal is more deeply unsettling to him than he'd like to admit. ] Maybe the same thing that's kept you alive? [ More importantly: ] Are you injured?

[backsassin]

[ Changed him physiologically? Zam's not sure she likes the sound of that—though, as he points out, whatever is responsible might be the same thing that had saved her from her own death. Or, perhaps, had brought her back.

She grimaces at the question. ]

My arm's been cut off, so yes. The wound's cauterized though, so I won't bleed out. [ An exhale through her teeth. ] Just have to worry about infection.

[ Zam probably shouldn't look a gift dewback in the mouth, but if something had saved her from death, it seems pretty strange that it would promptly drop her into another life-threatening situation without so much as wrapping up her wounds. Of course, she's assuming that it has an agenda at all; for all she knows, it has as much reasoning ability as a black hole. ]

How long have you been here? And how many others are there?

TO994M; voice

[cactusy]

Woke up on the beach today?

[New people???? What the fuck.]

[obeir]

[ A new voice interrupting their conversation surprises K, if only because of the late hour, but he answers both TO994M's and Zam's questions together. ]

A day ago for me. Middle of the night, eight hours before sunrise.

I'm curious how many of us there are too. Has there been a headcount?

[cactusy]

A head count depends on everybody willingly speaking up.

[salamanca]

"Speaking up" without screaming about Italian cuisine, you mean. Isn't that what happened last time we tried to do something like that?

[ Big talk from the guy who responded to a stranger's desperate plea with "something!" ]

[cactusy]

At least that let us know he existed.

[salamanca]

You know... that makes me think of a question I don't want to ask you in public like this, since we don't know who's listening. Hang on. I'll send you a text message.