Hello, gentle listener, and welcome to nocturnal transmissions,

the fortnightly podcast that brings you dark matter from some of the world's most fecund imaginations,

performed by our humble narrator, Kristen Holland.

We choose to start this episode with some words from Michael Franty

of the disposable heroes of hypocrisy.

Television, the drug of the disposable heroes of hypocrisy. Television.

The drug of the nation.

Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation.

Ah yes, the television.

The box, the boob tube, the small screen, the TV set, the babysitter, the idiot box.

For decades our household window onto the world.

Blessing or curse.

Nocturnal transmissions is proud to present special delivery by J.W. Solof.

A thump struck against the door so loudly, it threatened the dusty picture frames lining the kitchen walls.

Arthur Richardson, standing over the sink, didn't flinch along with it. He knew that the noises he heard weren't always there. While rinsing a bowl, a much longer series of knocks echoed through

the air, catching his curiosity. Arthur dried his hands as he left the kitchen.

"'He opened the front door, leaving his hand on the knob for balance.

"'He lifted his other hand to shield the sun's powerful glare "'and focused on the stranger standing so eagerly on his deck.

"'Hill!'

"'The words broke from the stranger's mouth.

"'Hello, sir.'

The man in front of Arthur stood tall and sported a fireman's mustache. His clothes hung loosely,

...