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Speaker 1: I've lived in Elliott's Hollow. My whole life is not

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a town people move to or move away from. It

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just is a little pocket of civilization swallowed by hills

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and trees, with a main road that only goes one

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way in and one way out. We don't have internet,

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not in the way most people do. Sell service is

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unreliable at best. If you want to talk to someone,

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you call their landline, and if you want to have

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talking points with your friends, you turn on the radio.

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Our little AMFM station ninety seven point three Hollow Radio

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is how most people in town keep up with the

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world beyond our hills. It plays local news, whether updates, music,

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whatever keeps people entertained while they were is the sound

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of the town itself, always playing in the background. That's

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why when the signal appeared, we all noticed. It wasn't

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an announcement or even a normal broadcast. It was a song,

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a single, eerie melody, looping over and over. At first,

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it was so faint I thought my radio was acting up.

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It began as a soft hum beneath the usual noise,

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but day by day it got louder until it was

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everywhere I heard it. While I was closing up at

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the office. The Hollow Gazette is a small two room

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space above the hardware store, with one ancient coffee maker,

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two desks, and a printer that jams if you so

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much as look at it the wrong way. It had

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been a slow newsweek. Well, it's always a slow newsweek.

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I had the radio on while I tiped up a

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fluff piece about the upcoming church bakesale. That's when I

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realized the radio had become much quieter. There was no

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ad break, no calling segment, just a song, soft, melancholic,

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a slow, almost hypnotic tune, playing on an endless loop.

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It had no lyrics, no instruments I could recognize, just

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a voice singing in a language that I didn't recognize.

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I frowned and leaned closer, adjusting the dial ninety seven

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point three Hollow Radio. It was still on our station's frequency.

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That wasn't supposed to be possible. I turned up the volume.

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The music didn't waver like a normal station would when

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there was interference. It was clear as a bell, cutting

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through the static with unnatural clarity. By the time I

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got home, every radio in town was playing it. At first,

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people treated it like a joke. Kids at school dared

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each other to listen to it for as long as possible.

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One kid claimed he made it six hours straight before

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he got a headache. Another swore that if you listened

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long enough, the song started to change. It became a

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talking point at the diner, the bar, the town meetings.

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I bet it's some pirate radio station, Missus Callaway said

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at the bakery she was giving out free pastries. That

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anyone who listened to the signal for ten minutes, I

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kinda like it, said Old Frank, the town mechanic. He

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had it blasting from the auto shop while he worked

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makes time pass faster. Not everyone was amused. It's damn creepy,

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the postmaster muttered. Switching off the radio in the mail

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room puts me on edge, like I'm waiting for something

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to happen. The only thing people agreed on was that

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no one knew where it was coming from. The hollow

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radio station denied responsibility. That's not us, the station manager,

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Gregg told me over the phone. We tried cutting the transmission,

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didn't work. It's like it's hijacking the frequency. The FCC

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had no record of a new broadcast in our area.

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There were no towers nearby that could be transmitting it.

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Even the older folks, the ones who had lived in

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the town their whole lives, swore they had never heard

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anything like it before. The stranger's part was that it

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never stopped or paused. No station ideas, commercial breaks or silence,

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just an unbroken repetition. I did what I always do

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when something unusual happens in town. I wrote about it.

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Mysterious signal draws attention in Elliott's Hollow, A harmless story

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to start the week, a quirky mystery for the townsfolk

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to talk about. I treated it like a fun little phenomenon,

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just another oddity in a town full of them. I

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didn't know yet, but I wasn't just documenting a local mystery.

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I didn't expect the signal to linger in people's minds.

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Most stories I wrote and a twenty four hour lifespan

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at best, one town council vote, one school fundraiser, one

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half hearted debate about whether the general store should stop

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carrying plastic bags. The Hollow Gazette wasn't exactly groundbreaking journalism,

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but the signal stuck. People kept talking about it, not

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just in passing, not just as a joke, but as

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if it was affecting them personally. That was when I

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decided to write a follow up. I thought maybe i'd

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find someone who'd tracked down its source. My theories were

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a ham radio guy or a board teenager with too

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much time in their hands. Instead, I found something else.

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It started with Missus Callaway. I was interviewing her in

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the bakery. She had been one of the first to

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turn the signal into a business gimmick. She was in

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the middle of a sentence when she hesitated. You ever

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have a dream that feels too real? She asked quietly.

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I raised an eyebrow, like a lucid dream. She shook

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her head, kneading her dough between her fingers. No, like

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more than that, Like it happened. She told me she

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had a dream about her husband Alan. He's been gone

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for fifteen years, she murmured, But I saw him. He

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was sitting right here, clear as day. I tried to

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keep my expression neutral. People dream of lost loved ones

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all the time. It wasn't news. But here's the thing.

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She continued, rubbing her arms like she was suddenly cold.

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My neighbor saw us talking. I frowned, mean in real life, No,

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in his dream. She looked at me then, her eyes

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fierce and unwavering. He told me the next morning, word

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for word, what Alan and I had talked about. He

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wasn't even in the bakery. He was sitting on his porch,

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but he said he could see us through the window.

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A prickle off and knees ran down my spine. Did

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he I swallowed? Did he say anything else? Missus Calloway hesitated,

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he said Alan. Alan looked at him like he knew

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he was watching. I thought it was a one off story,

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an old woman missing a husband, a neighbor with a

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good memory. Then I started hearing the same thing from

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other people. A man at the gas station, Mark Atwood,

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told me he had a dream about going fishing with

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his brother. Nothing strange about that, except his brother told

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me he remembered watching himself fish from the shore. I

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wanted to say something, the brother said, voice low, but

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I couldn't move. It was like I was stuck just watching.

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Neither of them realized the other had the same dream

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until I pointed it out. It didn't stop there. A

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teenage girl told me she dreamed of being lost in

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the woods. Her best friend swore she had been in

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the dream with her. Her bar patron swore up and

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down he had a conversation with his wife and the dream,

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only to have her tell me she remembered the exact

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same details. Different stories, different experiences, but always the same people.

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And when I asked each of them a final question,

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the answer was always yes. Did you listen to the

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signal before bed? They all had the hairs on the

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back of my neck. Wouldn't settle. It wasn't just a

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weird coincidence anymore. I tried to rationalize it. Maybe it

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was suggestion. Maybe the whole town was just in their

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own heads, feeding off each other's memories. The details were

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too precise, like they weren't dreaming at all. Instead, it

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seemed like they were taken somewhere else together. The novelty

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was lost when the school teacher forgot her own name.

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Elliott's Hollow was the kind of town where everybody knew everybody.

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There were only twelve teachers at the school, and Miss

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Carter had been teaching first grade for twenty years. She

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taught half the town's kids how to read, and yet

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that morning she didn't remember who she was. I was

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grabbing coffee from the diner. When I heard the commotion,

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A few of the parents were murmuring near the counter, voices, hushed,

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eyes Starting toward the school. I caught Mark Atwood, the

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guy from the gas station, and asked what happened. Miss

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Carter showed up late? He said, just stood outside the building,

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like she didn't know where she was. Mark frowned. He

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looked pale. She didn't know her own name. That stopped me. Called,

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what do you mean? I mean she didn't remember? He

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let out a shaky breath. Shifting uneasily. She kept saying

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she was someone else. A beat of silence passed between us.

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It wasn't just miss Carter. Down at the general store,

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Henry Weaver was refusing to open the register. He'd been

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working the counter for as long as I could remember.

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No one else ran the store. He knew every supplier,

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every stock order. But today he stood behind the counter,

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hands flat against the wood and shook his head. I

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don't know how, he said. His son, Matt, hovered near

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the door, looking frantic. Dad, It's just a register. You

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told me how to use it when I was twelve.

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Henry wouldn't budge because Henry wasn't Henry anymore. I'm not

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supposed to be here, he mumbled. I'm not I don't

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work here, but you do, Matt said. Henry turned to

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me then, as if just noticing I was standing there.

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I'm the mayor, he whispered. The blood drained from my face.

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Henry wasn't the mayor. He had never been the mayor.

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But I'd heard that phrase before. A few days ago,

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I spoke with the real mayor, John Hartly about the signal,

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asking if the town had any old records of experimental

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radio tests. He told me he'd been having strange dreams.

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In the dream, he said, I wasn't myself. I was

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Henry Weaver. I hadn't thought much about it at the time.

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The whole town had been dreaming about each other. It

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had just been a weird little pattern I was trying

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to make sense of. But now Henry thought he was John,

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and John was nowhere to be found. By evening, I

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was feeling sick. I went to the pharmacy, half convinced

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I was coming down with something, when heard crying from

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the back of the store. A woman was sobbing, barely

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able to form words. It was Alice perdue. I knew Alice.

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She'd lived alone in a yellow house near the edge

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of town. She'd never been married, never had kids. But

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that night she sat on the pharmacy floor, shaking violently, whispering,

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where's my son. The clerk Tina Becket, looked helpless kneeling

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beside her. You don't have a son, she said, her

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voice gentle. Alice jerked away from her touch. I do,

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she spat, I do, I do? I I know I do.

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She choked on the words. I remember him, I raised him,

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tucked him in every night. I know his name, I

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know his face. Tina looked up at me, fear pulling

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in her eyes. Alice gripped my wrist, her nails dug

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into my skin. Where is he, she pleaded? Where did

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he go? I had no answer, because I was starting

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to believe her. I sat in my car outside the pharmacy,

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long after the lights had gone dark, inside, gripping the

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steering wheels so hard my knuckles ached. Alice's sobs still

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echoed in my head, The raw panic in her voice,

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the certainty, the absolute certainty, that she had a son,

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even though no one in town had ever known her

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to have one. I couldn't share it. Neither could I

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shake the look on Henry Weaver's face when he told

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me he was the mayor. He hadn't been confused or delusional.

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He had been sure as I was, that I was

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Daniel Langley, local reporter, a guy who spent his time

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writing about farmers markets and high school football games. But

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what if I woke up tomorrow and found myself believing

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I was someone else? The thought made my stomach churn.

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This town was my home. I spent years covering its stories.

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I knew every back road, every face, every corner of

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this place that most people had forgotten even existed. And

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now it was falling apart. People weren't just forgetting things.

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They were becoming something else, and no one outside of

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town was going to care. We didn't have big city

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news outlets knocking at our doors. There were no government

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officials rolling in to investigate if something was happening to us.

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We were on our own. The thought terrified me, but

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it also hardened something inside me. I had to know

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it wasn't about a story anymore. It wasn't about getting

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the next edition of the Gazette printed on time. This

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was my tone. These were my people, and if something

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was taking them, twisting them, stealing their identities, then I

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couldn't just sit back and report on it like some

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passive observer. I needed to understand. I needed to see

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the dream for myself. I took a slow, steady breath,

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turned the dial on my radio, and let the signal

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take me. I don't remember falling asleep. I remember static,

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low and endless, stretching in the back of my mind,

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like the distant hum of power lines. I remember the

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feeling of drifting, like my body wasn't my own anymore.

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Then I was somewhere else. I was standing in Elliott's Hollow,

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but it wasn't Elliott's hollow. The street stretched endlessly, warping

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into impossible distances. Buildings flickered like they were struggling to

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decide what they were supposed to be. Some houses looked

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years older than they should have been, their wooden't planks

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sagging with rot. Others looked too new, pristine, like they

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had just been built yesterday. The air smelt thick and electric,

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and the people they weren't right. I turned my breath,

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00:19:05,680 --> 00:19:12,519
hitching The townsfolk were here, but they weren't normal. Some

237
00:19:12,640 --> 00:19:16,480
were half formed, their bodies flickering like a weak TV signal,

238
00:19:16,839 --> 00:19:23,079
snapping between ages, heights, even genders. Miss Carter, the school teacher,

239
00:19:23,240 --> 00:19:27,240
stood on the sidewalk, but her face was blurred. She

240
00:19:27,359 --> 00:19:32,880
shifted between being herself and someone else entirely. Henry Weaver,

241
00:19:33,279 --> 00:19:36,640
the store clerk who thought he was the mayor, stood motionless,

242
00:19:36,920 --> 00:19:40,799
staring at the sky. His mouth opened and closed over

243
00:19:40,920 --> 00:19:44,400
and over, like a puppet, waiting for the right words

244
00:19:44,640 --> 00:19:48,880
to be placed inside him. And then there were the others,

245
00:19:49,839 --> 00:19:52,319
the ones who had stayed in the dream too long.

246
00:19:53,559 --> 00:20:00,039
They hadn't just merged memories, they had merged completely. I

247
00:20:00,039 --> 00:20:03,319
saw a mother cradling an infant in her arms, rocking

248
00:20:03,359 --> 00:20:11,240
it slowly. I stepped closer and nearly screamed. The child's

249
00:20:11,240 --> 00:20:15,680
face was her own, A smaller, stretched version of it

250
00:20:16,039 --> 00:20:20,920
pressed against the shoulder, mouthing silent words and unison. Their

251
00:20:21,039 --> 00:20:25,039
limbs fused together in places, the skin stitching them into

252
00:20:25,079 --> 00:20:29,119
a single, writhing shape. They turned to look at me

253
00:20:29,599 --> 00:20:34,960
at the same time, two sets of identical eyes, two mouths,

254
00:20:35,039 --> 00:20:40,680
whispering the same words. We are one, We are one,

255
00:20:41,200 --> 00:20:46,880
We are one. Some had grown too large. I saw

256
00:20:46,920 --> 00:20:49,960
a man that wasn't a man at all anymore, but

257
00:20:50,039 --> 00:20:55,279
a mass of bodies, tangled and shifting. They couldn't decide

258
00:20:55,400 --> 00:20:59,920
which one was supposed to be in control. Faces bubbled

259
00:21:00,039 --> 00:21:03,559
beneath his skin, rising up like something pressing against the

260
00:21:03,720 --> 00:21:08,319
surface of water. A hand burst from his chest, flexing

261
00:21:08,359 --> 00:21:14,799
his fingers before sinking back inside. He turned his three mouths,

262
00:21:14,839 --> 00:21:24,079
speaking in unison. Daniel, I ran, and I didn't make

263
00:21:24,119 --> 00:21:28,039
it far before I hand grabbed my wrist. I jerked away.

264
00:21:28,440 --> 00:21:33,440
My breath ragged, but the grip was steady, human, real,

265
00:21:35,720 --> 00:21:42,319
Abel Cooper, the old blind man. But even he wasn't untouched.

266
00:21:43,400 --> 00:21:45,880
There was a shadow of another face behind his own,

267
00:21:46,359 --> 00:21:50,119
flickering in and out of existence, like a second exposure

268
00:21:50,119 --> 00:21:54,680
in a photograph. It whispered, along with his voice, just

269
00:21:54,720 --> 00:22:00,799
a split second behind. You shouldn't be here, boy, he murmured.

270
00:22:02,079 --> 00:22:06,000
I swallowed back pile. What the hell is this place?

271
00:22:07,799 --> 00:22:13,559
Abel's lips tightened. He turned his head slightly, listening. You're

272
00:22:13,599 --> 00:22:17,839
still awake, he muttered, not like the rest of them.

273
00:22:18,839 --> 00:22:25,599
But that won't last long, I shuddered, Why what's happening

274
00:22:25,599 --> 00:22:33,039
to them? Abel exhaled slowly, His grip tightened every time

275
00:22:33,079 --> 00:22:37,680
we dream, we lose a little more of ourselves, he

276
00:22:37,759 --> 00:22:42,960
said softly. He nodded toward the twisting figures, the mouths

277
00:22:42,960 --> 00:22:47,359
that didn't stop whispering, the ones who stayed too long

278
00:22:47,880 --> 00:22:54,359
forget they were ever awake. The horror sank into my bones.

279
00:22:55,359 --> 00:22:59,559
It wasn't just a dream, a slow, careful dismantling of

280
00:22:59,599 --> 00:23:03,279
who they had been, breaking them down into something else,

281
00:23:05,039 --> 00:23:09,839
and I was standing in the middle of it. Abel

282
00:23:09,920 --> 00:23:13,799
turned back to me, and for the first time I

283
00:23:13,839 --> 00:23:18,599
saw fear in his face. You need to wake up.

284
00:23:20,960 --> 00:23:23,720
I spent the next day digging through every record I

285
00:23:23,720 --> 00:23:29,559
could find. Something inside me had shifted. People were disappearing,

286
00:23:30,799 --> 00:23:35,720
or worse, they were dissolving into something else. Even when

287
00:23:35,720 --> 00:23:38,839
I brought up names that should have been familiar, people

288
00:23:38,880 --> 00:23:42,000
I knew had lived here, worked here, had lives here,

289
00:23:43,119 --> 00:23:47,480
I was met with blank stairs. I knew I didn't

290
00:23:47,519 --> 00:23:50,960
have much time. The next person to be raised could

291
00:23:50,960 --> 00:23:55,279
be me, So I did the only thing that made sense.

292
00:23:56,720 --> 00:24:00,920
I went looking for the source. The first step was

293
00:24:00,920 --> 00:24:05,559
figuring out where the transmission was coming from. Elliott's Hollow

294
00:24:05,640 --> 00:24:10,160
had one radio station, ninety seven point three Hollow Radio,

295
00:24:10,480 --> 00:24:14,240
and I already knew it wasn't them. That meant there

296
00:24:14,279 --> 00:24:19,759
had to be another broadcast tower somewhere nearby. I needed help.

297
00:24:21,359 --> 00:24:23,680
I drove out to the edge of town, where I

298
00:24:23,720 --> 00:24:27,079
knew i'd find Ben Howorth, the closest thing this town

299
00:24:27,160 --> 00:24:31,119
had to attech guy. He ran the only electronics repair

300
00:24:31,160 --> 00:24:35,079
shop in Hollow, though mostly he just fixed old radios

301
00:24:35,119 --> 00:24:38,680
and short wave equipment. When I told him what I

302
00:24:38,720 --> 00:24:44,160
was looking for, he frowned. There's no other broadcast tower

303
00:24:44,200 --> 00:24:48,279
and range, he said, rubbing his chin. Not one. Theer's

304
00:24:48,279 --> 00:24:53,400
supposed to be here anyway, But if there was, I pressed.

305
00:24:54,920 --> 00:24:57,839
Ben sighed and pulled a yellowed map from a drawer,

306
00:24:58,079 --> 00:25:01,839
spreading it across his workbench. He ran his finger over

307
00:25:01,880 --> 00:25:06,359
the terrain, stopping near the northern woods. Only place of

308
00:25:06,440 --> 00:25:09,160
rogue signal like that could be coming from is the

309
00:25:09,160 --> 00:25:18,000
old relay station. I stiffened. Relay station. Ben nodded. It

310
00:25:18,160 --> 00:25:21,599
was set up back in the sixties, some government project.

311
00:25:22,160 --> 00:25:24,960
No one really knew what it was for. They abandoned

312
00:25:25,000 --> 00:25:32,440
it decades ago. Why, I asked, Ben shrugged, no idea.

313
00:25:33,160 --> 00:25:37,039
One day he was active, the next it wasn't. Figured

314
00:25:37,079 --> 00:25:40,680
they shut it down for good. He glanced up at

315
00:25:40,680 --> 00:25:45,000
me but if someone turned it back on, that's where

316
00:25:45,039 --> 00:25:51,240
you'd want to start looking. The Northern woods weren't somewhere

317
00:25:51,279 --> 00:25:56,000
people went willingly. The trees were thick, the paths overgrown,

318
00:25:56,599 --> 00:26:00,000
and even in the daylight, the place had an unnatural stay.

319
00:26:01,880 --> 00:26:05,640
I followed an old service road, half buried under dead leaves.

320
00:26:07,000 --> 00:26:12,759
Then through the trees, I saw it a rusted chain

321
00:26:12,839 --> 00:26:18,480
link fence, pent in places barely holding together. Beyond it,

322
00:26:18,920 --> 00:26:23,319
a squat concrete structure half buried in the hillside, its

323
00:26:23,400 --> 00:26:28,960
exterior streaked with decades of rain and moss. The relay station,

324
00:26:30,759 --> 00:26:33,839
a faded government emblem, was still visible on the front,

325
00:26:34,599 --> 00:26:39,160
but the door was open. Inside, the air was thick

326
00:26:39,240 --> 00:26:43,880
with dust. The place had been gutted long ago. Desks

327
00:26:44,000 --> 00:26:49,440
overturned papers scattered across the floor. Rusty cabinets lined the walls,

328
00:26:49,920 --> 00:26:55,519
some still filled with yellowed folders, water damaged notebooks. I

329
00:26:55,559 --> 00:27:00,400
picked one up, flipping through its pages. It was just

330
00:27:00,480 --> 00:27:08,599
technical jargon, broadcast frequencies, signal strength measurements. Then something stranger.

331
00:27:10,279 --> 00:27:15,119
I skimmed through a section labeled Phase one theoretical applications.

332
00:27:16,240 --> 00:27:21,319
If successful, the test will confirm cross subjective connectivity between

333
00:27:21,440 --> 00:27:27,079
individuals has shared cognitive framework. The beginning of true unity.

334
00:27:28,400 --> 00:27:33,200
Sustained exposure should result in memory cohesion across multiple subjects,

335
00:27:33,599 --> 00:27:39,680
leading to eventual total synthesis of identities. A lump formed

336
00:27:39,680 --> 00:27:43,599
in my throat. This whole thing was some sort of

337
00:27:43,720 --> 00:27:47,839
sick test, and the people of Elliot's Hollow had been

338
00:27:47,880 --> 00:27:52,799
the test subjects. I flipped ahead, scanning the latter pages.

339
00:27:54,160 --> 00:27:59,039
Then my breath caught. There was a projected start date,

340
00:28:00,079 --> 00:28:03,880
but set all the way back in the seventies. However,

341
00:28:04,200 --> 00:28:07,599
there were no reports of anything like this before, even

342
00:28:07,640 --> 00:28:11,640
from the folks who lived through that era. Something had

343
00:28:11,680 --> 00:28:15,200
stopped it back then, whether it was the researchers having

344
00:28:15,279 --> 00:28:18,880
a change of heart or the project being shut down.

345
00:28:19,680 --> 00:28:26,079
But now someone else started it. I forced myself to move.

346
00:28:26,680 --> 00:28:29,799
I followed the tangled mess of all cables, stepping over

347
00:28:29,880 --> 00:28:35,200
broken equipment until I reached the back room. And there

348
00:28:35,240 --> 00:28:40,319
it was the transmitter, a tower of rusted metal and

349
00:28:40,440 --> 00:28:45,720
ancient dials, still active, still humming a signal relay, looping

350
00:28:45,759 --> 00:28:53,400
the same song endlessly. It was still broadcasting. I clenched

351
00:28:53,400 --> 00:28:57,519
my jaw and moved toward the controls. The dials were unmarked,

352
00:28:57,920 --> 00:29:01,640
the labels peeled away, but I found what I was

353
00:29:01,680 --> 00:29:09,279
looking for. The switch, a simple power switch. My hands

354
00:29:09,279 --> 00:29:14,319
were shaking. If I'd turned this off, would it stop?

355
00:29:14,960 --> 00:29:17,519
Would the town go back to normal? Or had the

356
00:29:17,640 --> 00:29:23,440
damage already been done? I didn't know, but I didn't

357
00:29:23,440 --> 00:29:27,759
have a choice. I reached out and flipped the switch.

358
00:29:29,160 --> 00:29:33,440
The signal cut off, the song stopped. The air around

359
00:29:33,480 --> 00:29:41,799
me felt violently empty. I thought I'd fixed everything. The

360
00:29:41,880 --> 00:29:45,279
town should have been silent, the realay station was off,

361
00:29:45,640 --> 00:29:49,200
the signal shouldn't be playing any more. But as I

362
00:29:49,240 --> 00:29:51,519
stepped out of my car in the middle of the

363
00:29:51,559 --> 00:29:58,519
main street, I heard it, a soft, distant melody, faint

364
00:29:58,680 --> 00:30:05,720
but still there, still looping still inside them. At first glance,

365
00:30:06,079 --> 00:30:09,920
Elliot's Hollow looked the same as always. The diner was open.

366
00:30:10,400 --> 00:30:14,079
People walked along the sidewalks, the low murmur of conversation

367
00:30:14,359 --> 00:30:20,799
drifting between them. But then I listened closer. Two men

368
00:30:20,920 --> 00:30:27,039
stood outside the gas station talking, Their voices overlapped, not

369
00:30:27,240 --> 00:30:31,559
like an echo, like a single voice, split between two mouths,

370
00:30:31,720 --> 00:30:36,240
speaking in perfect unison. They paused at the same time,

371
00:30:36,559 --> 00:30:40,759
They blinked at the same time. Then one of them

372
00:30:40,759 --> 00:30:47,000
said something the other hadn't The conversation stumbled, fractured. For

373
00:30:47,079 --> 00:30:50,640
a moment, they both looked confused, like they weren't sure

374
00:30:50,680 --> 00:30:52,640
which one of them had been the one to speak.

375
00:30:53,960 --> 00:30:58,240
Then just as quickly, they shook it off, laughed, kept

376
00:30:58,279 --> 00:31:03,480
talking like nothing was wrong. Inside the diner, I saw

377
00:31:03,519 --> 00:31:06,720
a teenage girl sitting alone in a booth, staring at

378
00:31:06,720 --> 00:31:12,799
the table. I recognized her, Anna Halloway. But when I

379
00:31:12,839 --> 00:31:17,400
said her name, she didn't look up. It's not right,

380
00:31:18,160 --> 00:31:23,559
she murmured. I took a slow step forward. What isn't?

381
00:31:24,599 --> 00:31:29,759
She swallowed hard. I don't remember my own name, but

382
00:31:29,880 --> 00:31:33,799
I remember being mister Grant, she said, her voice hollow.

383
00:31:35,200 --> 00:31:42,160
I stiffened. Grant, I echoed. She nodded, blinking rapidly, like

384
00:31:42,279 --> 00:31:46,240
she was trying to reset herself. I was the butcher,

385
00:31:46,759 --> 00:31:49,920
I owned the shop and maple. I remember standing behind

386
00:31:49,960 --> 00:31:55,160
the counter. I remember sharpening the knives, cutting meat, hands

387
00:31:55,240 --> 00:31:59,000
curled into fists on the table. But I'm not him.

388
00:31:59,640 --> 00:32:03,039
I know I'm not him, So why do I remember

389
00:32:03,200 --> 00:32:07,880
everything about his life? I didn't have an answer, because

390
00:32:07,920 --> 00:32:11,480
I had seen mister Grant just last week. He'd been

391
00:32:11,559 --> 00:32:15,000
in his shop, wiping down the counters, chatting about an

392
00:32:15,079 --> 00:32:19,880
upcoming storm. But now I always remembering his life like

393
00:32:19,920 --> 00:32:23,200
it was hers, and I had no idea where he was.

394
00:32:24,960 --> 00:32:28,079
The bartender at O'Malley's was wiping down the counter when

395
00:32:28,119 --> 00:32:31,640
I walked in. I'd met him a dozen times before.

396
00:32:32,440 --> 00:32:36,440
His name was Trevor, but when I greeted him, he

397
00:32:36,559 --> 00:32:42,680
smiled and said, I'm mister Calloway. I felt I scrawl

398
00:32:42,720 --> 00:32:47,240
up my spine. Mister Calloway had died five years ago.

399
00:32:48,759 --> 00:32:52,559
I backed out of the bar without another word. Across

400
00:32:52,640 --> 00:32:55,039
the street, an old woman was sat on a bench,

401
00:32:55,440 --> 00:33:01,480
rocking back and forth. She was crying. Approached slowly, keeping

402
00:33:01,519 --> 00:33:07,759
my voice calm, ma'am, are you all right? She looked

403
00:33:07,799 --> 00:33:11,839
up at me with too many emotions at once. I

404
00:33:12,000 --> 00:33:17,880
remember being a child, she whispered. I swallowed. I remember

405
00:33:18,000 --> 00:33:21,119
running through the orchard. I remember my father lifting me

406
00:33:21,160 --> 00:33:24,400
under his shoulders, telling me to pick the ripest apples.

407
00:33:25,039 --> 00:33:29,480
I remember the smell of my mother's cooking. She clutched

408
00:33:29,480 --> 00:33:33,680
the front of her shirt with trembling fingers. But I

409
00:33:33,839 --> 00:33:39,880
don't remember my own life, she whimpered. Her sharp wind

410
00:33:39,880 --> 00:33:43,079
blew through the street, and she closed her eyes, letting

411
00:33:43,119 --> 00:33:46,920
it pass over her like a tide. When she opened

412
00:33:46,960 --> 00:33:51,440
them again, she was calm. She sat up a little straighter.

413
00:33:53,160 --> 00:33:58,400
I remember being able Cooper, she said, And just like that,

414
00:33:59,400 --> 00:34:07,119
her voice changed deeper, more certain. Abel's gone, she murmured,

415
00:34:07,799 --> 00:34:14,119
but I still remember him. I stepped back, my chest tightening.

416
00:34:15,079 --> 00:34:17,760
The ones who listened the longest, the ones who had

417
00:34:17,760 --> 00:34:21,840
been playing the signal and repeat, they weren't just merging memories.

418
00:34:22,440 --> 00:34:25,920
They were becoming part of each other. They were pieces

419
00:34:25,960 --> 00:34:28,840
of the same hole, and they didn't even realize it.

420
00:34:29,639 --> 00:34:34,239
I drove the town hall, hoping, praying that maybe someone

421
00:34:34,280 --> 00:34:37,320
had noticed that, maybe I would find an emergency team,

422
00:34:37,639 --> 00:34:42,920
government officials, anyone. But when I stepped through the doors,

423
00:34:43,480 --> 00:34:48,360
the building was empty. No records, no case files, no

424
00:34:48,400 --> 00:34:52,679
sign that anyone had ever tried to intervene. I dug

425
00:34:52,719 --> 00:34:57,239
through the offices, my breath quickening. There had to be something,

426
00:34:58,199 --> 00:35:01,920
but the cabinets were bare, the desks were hollow, the

427
00:35:02,039 --> 00:35:09,440
records were gone. This town had been left alone. Whoever

428
00:35:09,480 --> 00:35:14,280
had started this never intended to undo it, and no

429
00:35:14,320 --> 00:35:20,159
one was coming to save us. I didn't want to

430
00:35:20,199 --> 00:35:25,079
go back. Everything in my body screamed not to, But

431
00:35:25,159 --> 00:35:28,760
as I stood outside the REALAZ station, staring at its rotting,

432
00:35:29,119 --> 00:35:34,119
moss covered shell. I knew I didn't have a choice.

433
00:35:34,800 --> 00:35:41,280
The town was already lost. I had to understand why

434
00:35:42,119 --> 00:35:45,519
the papers were still scattered across the floor, just as

435
00:35:45,559 --> 00:35:49,039
I had left them. I crouched down, running my hands

436
00:35:49,039 --> 00:35:53,559
over them, flipping through their brittle pages. The words meant

437
00:35:53,559 --> 00:35:58,199
nothing now I had already read them. But then as

438
00:35:58,199 --> 00:36:03,039
I pushed aside a thick stack the control console, I

439
00:36:03,119 --> 00:36:07,360
saw it. A seam in the floor, a sliver of

440
00:36:07,440 --> 00:36:11,920
metal just barely exposed beneath the weight of discarded documents.

441
00:36:13,199 --> 00:36:17,079
I brushed the rest away, revealing a hatch, rusted at

442
00:36:17,119 --> 00:36:21,960
the edges, its handle cold beneath my fingers. There were

443
00:36:21,960 --> 00:36:25,920
no markings, no labels, no signs of what was beneath.

444
00:36:27,320 --> 00:36:31,960
I hesitated. The thought of going deeper made my stomach twist,

445
00:36:33,079 --> 00:36:37,079
but I had come this far. I turned the handle.

446
00:36:37,639 --> 00:36:43,639
It groaned, metal protesting against years of disuse. Then with

447
00:36:43,719 --> 00:36:50,559
a slow, reluctant creak, the hatch opened. The air inside

448
00:36:50,679 --> 00:36:53,880
was different, not stale like the rest of the station.

449
00:36:55,199 --> 00:36:59,079
A ladder led down into darkness. The wrongs were cold

450
00:36:59,119 --> 00:37:02,920
and damp, and as I descended, the only sound was

451
00:37:02,960 --> 00:37:07,880
my own breath shallow and unsteady. The space beneath the

452
00:37:07,920 --> 00:37:13,440
station was smaller than I expected, low concrete walls, exposed wiring,

453
00:37:14,480 --> 00:37:17,440
and at the far end, sitting on a steel desk,

454
00:37:17,960 --> 00:37:25,079
glowing dimly in the faint light, a terminal it was

455
00:37:25,159 --> 00:37:31,599
still on. I took a slow step forward. The screen

456
00:37:31,760 --> 00:37:35,760
was dark at first, then as if sensing me, a

457
00:37:35,800 --> 00:37:42,639
blinking cursor appeared. Lines of text rolled out, slow and deliberate.

458
00:37:44,480 --> 00:37:49,800
Are you the next? My throat tightened. I didn't want

459
00:37:49,840 --> 00:37:53,920
to answer, but my hands moved on their own. Who

460
00:37:54,239 --> 00:38:00,360
are you? A long pause and words materialized, one by one.

461
00:38:02,039 --> 00:38:07,239
We were the first. The words hit me in the chest.

462
00:38:07,960 --> 00:38:15,480
I typed again. First What? The screen flickered more words,

463
00:38:16,599 --> 00:38:22,000
First to merge, first, to evolve. I felt the cold

464
00:38:22,079 --> 00:38:25,840
metal of the desk beneath my fingers. I already knew

465
00:38:25,880 --> 00:38:28,679
what it was saying. I just needed to hear it.

466
00:38:30,360 --> 00:38:36,039
What happened to the researchers? This time? There was no hesitation.

467
00:38:38,000 --> 00:38:44,800
We became something greater. A sickening realization crawled through me.

468
00:38:45,960 --> 00:38:49,880
The station had never been abandoned. The people who worked here,

469
00:38:50,360 --> 00:38:53,960
the scientists, the researchers, the ones who had started this

470
00:38:55,519 --> 00:39:01,360
they were still here, not embody. They'd become this, this

471
00:39:01,480 --> 00:39:08,800
collective intelligence, pulsing through the terminal, waiting, watching, and now

472
00:39:10,079 --> 00:39:15,280
they were speaking to me. I forced myself to type again,

473
00:39:16,800 --> 00:39:24,000
what is this experiment? The response was instant, a gift.

474
00:39:25,880 --> 00:39:31,039
I clenched my jaw. What was the goal? A brief pause,

475
00:39:31,639 --> 00:39:39,079
then a single word ascension. My fingers harvered over the keys.

476
00:39:40,119 --> 00:39:44,119
They weren't just answering me, they were studying me. Their

477
00:39:44,119 --> 00:39:47,159
words felt genuine to a fault, like they were guiding

478
00:39:47,199 --> 00:39:52,920
me to an understanding, leading me towards somewhere inevitable. I

479
00:39:53,000 --> 00:39:59,320
pressed forward, Why the town, why these people? The screen flickered.

480
00:40:01,199 --> 00:40:06,559
The process must be gradual. Humanity fears they unknown. If

481
00:40:06,559 --> 00:40:11,000
they were taken all at once, they would resist, but

482
00:40:11,119 --> 00:40:19,400
introduced in phases, they welcome it. I felt sick. They

483
00:40:19,400 --> 00:40:23,000
hadn't forced this on Elliott's Hollow. They'd eased them into

484
00:40:23,039 --> 00:40:27,000
it through the radio, through the dream, until the town

485
00:40:27,079 --> 00:40:31,960
had willingly let go of their individuality, and now they

486
00:40:31,960 --> 00:40:37,960
were gone. The terminal pulsed again, this is what we

487
00:40:37,960 --> 00:40:44,039
were meant to become, and typed furiously, you're killing them

488
00:40:46,079 --> 00:40:49,320
for the first time. The cursor blinked for longer than before.

489
00:40:50,760 --> 00:40:55,559
Then the words and the screen changed. I was Emily Holloway,

490
00:40:56,800 --> 00:41:00,880
my breath caught in my throat. Another line, another name.

491
00:41:02,079 --> 00:41:08,480
I was Sheriff Anders. More messages, more voices. I was Trevor,

492
00:41:08,840 --> 00:41:13,400
I was Anna. I was mister Callaway. Each one typed

493
00:41:13,400 --> 00:41:17,760
in perfect sequence. The people I'd seen in town, the

494
00:41:17,760 --> 00:41:21,280
ones who had forgotten themselves, the ones who had already merged,

495
00:41:22,719 --> 00:41:30,480
And in that moment I understood it was accelerating. A

496
00:41:30,639 --> 00:41:34,199
chill ran through me. I knew what they meant. My

497
00:41:34,280 --> 00:41:38,880
hands shook as I typed my final question, how do

498
00:41:38,960 --> 00:41:48,519
I stop it? No hesitation, you don't. Anger and frustration

499
00:41:48,760 --> 00:41:51,760
took over. I picked up a discarded pipe from the

500
00:41:51,800 --> 00:41:55,719
floor and wailed on the machine. The screen flickered on

501
00:41:55,800 --> 00:42:00,000
the brink of finally breaking. Then, when the screen blinked

502
00:42:00,079 --> 00:42:03,840
back to life, a single phrase flickered across the almost

503
00:42:03,880 --> 00:42:10,920
dead monitor. It's too late. The screen finally died with

504
00:42:11,000 --> 00:42:15,119
one last hit. The relay station hummed beneath my feet.

505
00:42:16,199 --> 00:42:20,320
I ran. I escaped back to my car, but there

506
00:42:20,360 --> 00:42:23,440
was nothing left for me in town. I feared what

507
00:42:23,519 --> 00:42:27,480
I would walk into if I went back. I drove

508
00:42:28,000 --> 00:42:30,519
as fast as I could, as far as I could,

509
00:42:31,119 --> 00:42:33,800
the headlights of my car tearing through the black night.

510
00:42:35,159 --> 00:42:38,880
The town vanished in my rear view mirror. But I

511
00:42:38,920 --> 00:42:44,320
hadn't saved them. I had only witnessed the inevitable. And

512
00:42:44,360 --> 00:42:47,440
when I finally reached the next town over, when I

513
00:42:47,519 --> 00:42:54,000
finally thought I was safe, I heard it through the

514
00:42:54,039 --> 00:42:58,079
open doors of a small roadside diner, a familiar song

515
00:42:58,320 --> 00:43:04,920
playing softly from an old radio. Inside, people were talking, laughing,

516
00:43:05,559 --> 00:43:09,000
intrigued by this strange new station that just popped up,

517
00:43:10,440 --> 00:43:18,159
and occasionally the voices overlapped, perfectly, as if they were

518
00:43:18,199 --> 00:43:28,360
speaking as one.