The Station

I have always been an audiophile. I acquired a license to own a shortwave radio at 15, and every day, for about an hour, I’d listen to a station. I would attempt to find one station every week, and listen to it for an hour a day, if only to pass the time after doing my algebra homework and eating dinner. You’d have your usual personalities. On one side of the radio, it seemed that stations with conspiracies spouted out by Alex Jones types, saying that the government was filled with reptiles, and that the Illuminati ran the earth, whilst the other side was filled with Howard Stern wannabes who couldn’t reach the air on their local stations. When I came the former of these stations, I’d usually decide to turn off YouTube for the week, and use the station as my main source of comedy. I eventually came across a forum for fellow audiophiles. They heard my story, and what I heard, and they asked me to compile what I heard on the stations I come across:

 

10.11.15: I came across a radio station playing old radio serials this weekend. It had the usual suspects, like ‘The Lone Ranger’, and ‘The Shadow’, but it also had some others, like ‘Batman’ and ‘Front Line Family’, and ‘Sorry, Wrong Number’. These were playing in a marathon, from Monday to Friday, but eventually, it ran more infamous broadcasts. First, ‘The War of the Worlds’, and then the infamous ‘Amos and Andy’. Strangely enough, there wasn’t any background noise, save for a small AC unit I could faintly hear. I disregarded it, as it wasn’t a major distraction. Sure, I could hear it over the old ‘intermissions’, but it didn’t bother me too much.

 

10.18.15: I found a conspiracy station (surprise!), and found the host to be comedy gold. He definitely had been on Infowars far too much. He burst out ideologies left and right, saying that yoga is satanic, and that nuclear bombs weren’t real, and  that Hiroshima and Nagasaki were just a larger scale of a bombing… which, to be fair, they were, but not in that sense. All in all, a fairly good station for laughs, and, for added fun, there was a call in segment. I called in with my best (read:fake) conspiracy theories related to the topic. I claimed that Frito-Lay was part of the Illuminati, due to the triangular shape that Doritos were in, and surprisingly enough, he took the bait… leading into a 5 minute tirade about the satanic food industry. Shortly thereafter, he was saying that the government was locking up people to play some sick game, but, seeing as I had reached my breaking point. I went to sleep.

 

10.25.15: I found an interesting one this week. A true enigma, really. It seemed to be an old numbers station. The numbers seemed to be read by an old man, whose voice was shaky enough to make it seem like he was at gunpoint. He read, in rather broken English: ‘20. 8. 5. 25. 23. 1. 20. 3. 8´. I found this cypher to be extremely easy.. It was just numbers associated with alphabetical order. It's almost like they wanted people to see it. I read the message aloud. THEYWATCH. I listened for about 15 more minutes. It kept repeating. It was quite obviously on a loop. I was intrigued, so, I turned on my phone, in order to record it on the final night, in case anything happened.

 

11.3.15: I found myself in a tough position. On one hand, I felt like I wanted to hear more from the numbers station. But on the other, I felt that I'd be torn apart by you guys. I went into deep thought, but, in the end, I decided to keep listening. It was a different person. Confused, I lowered the volume on the radio, and turned on my phone. I had about 30 minutes of footage, as I had an application to set the recorder on a timer for that night. Said timer went from 11:30 to 12:00. I fast forwarded a little. Same message. Then, in the final minutes, I heard something. It was a gun cocking. It fired, and I heard a shrill scream. I was horrified… the woman was picked up.. She screamed ¨Zawjy! Zawji!´. I quickly paused, and looked it up on a translator online. The woman was screaming ´My husband!´, in Arabic. They put her up to the mic. ¨qira'atuha!¨, they said, their voices modified. She yelled back ¨la! 'ana ghyr qadir ealaa! 'ant qtlth!´ ¨I can´t! You killed him!¨. They pushed her, and the tape ended at 12:00 am. I turned the radio back on, in spite of what had unfolded. She, like her husband, spoke in extremely broken English. ¨Whiskey. Echo. Kilo. November. Oscar. Whiskey. Yankee. Oscar. Uniform. Romeo. Echo. Lima. India. Sierra. Tango. Echo. November. India. November. Golf.¨ This, like the last message, was extremely easy to figure out. WE KNOW YOU'RE LISTENING. I felt a chill down my spine.. I knew they were talking to me.

 

11.11.15: They're forcing me to write this. The sick fucks who run this station. Currently, a man in a gas mask, and a jumpsuit is holding a gun to my head. Another man is in the room, tied up and unconscious. A note was attached to him, saying ¨We're sorry you knew´. The man beside me is allowing me to tell what happened. On November 5th, a message reached my inbox on the forum. The title was ¨Regarding The Station¨. It was from Mr_Theorist. He wrote: “Despite what you’ve said about my theories, I have decided to write this. I stumbled upon your recent forum posts, involving what my friend calls ‘The Station’. He, like you, listened to it for awhile. I tell you this because… he’s missing. You’re the only person I can find who knows anything about the station. I want to meet you, to exchange info. They may be listening to our calls, so I figured we can meet in person, in order to avoid onlookers. Meet me at the Amity Mall on Tuesday, at 3:45. We can meet by the florist’s and the food court. I await your correspondence. -Mr_Theorist”. I arrived at the mall on Tuesday, bought some pizza, and waited by the florist’s shop. I waited for about 10 minutes, and, my bladder filled from the soda I had with my pizza, and I went to the restroom. I went to the urinal, and then noticed something in my peripheral vision. It was a man in a suit. I recognized him, as a man who was behind me whilst I ordered my meal. I went and washed my hands. I looked down.. I felt groggy. I must’ve passed out, as the first thing I remember was ending up here. The conspiracy theorist from the first station I listened to was here. He must’ve been taken alongside me at the mall, as he woke up a bit earlier than I did. The man beside me says I am to give him the computer for now.

 

THE FOLLOWING EMAIL HAS BEEN CLASSIFIED:

 

11.17.15

 

It’s all going according to plan. He’s stating the codes, and is doing a fine job with it. He’s broken, which is what we need. The code he is reciting is as follows: Tango. Hotel. Echo. Yankee. Foxtrot. Oscar. Uniform. November. Delta. Mike. Echo. India. Tango. Sierra. Charlie. Oscar. Mike. India. November. Golf. He will be executed at approximately 0000 tonight. We’ve done a fine job, sir, and I hope this goes as planned.


 * Sergeant Mason