Listeners? I just saw a glimmer, a flicker of something here in the studio. One moment there was simply a wall, and a floor, and air, and then in another moment there was a shape of a person. Of a woman, a-
>>Cecil! It’s your former intern! It’s me, Dana!
Dana! Where are you? When are you?
>>For right now, I am here in the studio, but I’m also still trapped in a desert near the mountain, near the lighthouse. But I’m learning more about how this works. If I turn my head just right I can not only see places but…I can be places. I can’t do it for long, but it’s amazing where I can go, when I can go.
>>I’ve been visiting with John Peters, you know, the farmer?, who appears here from time to time. I met briefly one of your former interns, Maureen, who flicks in and out of existence here. I’ve even made friends with some of the men and women of this nation-less army that wanders about the desert.
“Eh, like eighteen-nineteen percent? Somewhere around there? Honestly, I make most of this crap up as I go.”
“Oh! Oh great! Wonderful and here we are in a fine predicament with … what? Nineteen percent of a plan to get us out of it?” She sighs and her pacing becomes more urgent.
“And the day started out so well. But I knew, I knew the moment I saw that cave mouth. I should have stayed outside. Out in the fresh air. But you and your damn smooth words. Now here I am, trapped in a hole in the ground. AGAIN!”
Her agitated gait stops. She moves to a wall and slides down into a crouch. She tries to breathe deep but there is a hitch as the air enters her lungs.
“Are the walls closing in? No, they can’t be. The shaking stopped, right? No no. Don’t close your eyes. It’ll only make it worse.” She mutters into her knees.