Hiss of radio fuzz as channels are scanned in a search for intelligence. . . . . . Nothing.
The late night searcher wonders if there really is anyone out there. Then the dial hits on a lone renegade signal and a sound like clattering crystal chains and sped down fireworks. This is the reputed late night frequency of pioneering antenna pirates.
The searcher turns it up.
Invincible jams are broadcast live to the 3AM city, and it goes and goes until the instruments drop out one by one and but a single guitar remains, wielded by the last conscious musician who solos in cosmic revery for fallen brethren passed out in a circle, until finally there is only an amplified humming, the last musician having gone to the floor and the searcher also having joined them in sleep. The program ends with a return to low hiss, an abused apple pipe discarded on the studio floor, a blackened hole, and the 5AM city just as dead; oblivion.
outcosm.com 