[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Alright, I’ve had some time to calm down. Get my head on straight. And maybe I should stop broadcasting entirely, but now that I’m on the other side of the country, who knows, maybe there will be some people here. Maybe this will finally reach sympathetic ears. 

Also, I’ve gotten pretty used to talking out loud into this thing. It helps me think. So. 

Here’s where I’m at—I spent the weekend looking through all my notes of everything that Birdie has said and every weird thing that’s happened and I’m going to lay it all out—everything I know—and try to figure out how the fuck it connects, if it does at all. 

[click, static]

So. Messages that Birdie has sent me that make me fucking angry: 

Telling me to stay out of Denver because it’s a “collision point” and then refusing to explain what that means. 

Telling me I was wrong about my actions not having consequences and then refusing to explain what that means. 

Saying that their job was important, that they betrayed it, and that it hurt people and then, you know, not explaining it. 

And here are the things I know about Birdie—or I think I know: 

They’ve been in the same spot this whole time. They’ve never encountered anyone else. They’re pretty good with a radio, having gotten it to broadcast this far, they don’t have physical speaking capabilities, and they’re trained in Morse code. Though to be fair, I’m technically trained in Morse code by now, so I’m not sure how revealing that is as a biographical fact. 

And here are the things that Birdie has definitely lied about: That they don’t know what happened. 

[click, static]

I don’t know if you found out what happened between you first contacting me and us talking in real-time. But one of your first messages to me was that you didn’t know what happened. And then when we spoke, you said you did, but that it was too complicated to explain in Morse code. So which is it?

[click, static]

Of course there’s a chance that you’ve been working much harder than me at actually trying to figure out what happened and you did it, you figured it out, but…well, Occam’s Razor right? I’ve spent nearly half a year driving around the country, looking for people, looking for answers and, sure, I haven’t been scientific about it, but I must have had a better chance of stumbling across something than you, a person who seems to have been sitting by their radio nonstop for 6 years. 

Then again, there were those weeks-long stretches where you didn’t contact me at all, so maybe…

[click, static]

No, the simplest explanation is that you lied. If I’m being generous, maybe you lied because you didn’t know if you could trust me and then, over the course of a few months, you decided you could. You decided you trusted me enough to talk to me and tell me the truth. But to what end? Why tell me you know what happened, if you couldn’t explain what happened? What would that accomplish?

And that’s such a huge thing to lie about—I mean, I’ve lied in these transmissions, I’ve lied to you, but nothing big. Nothing…consequential. I choose to just not say anything at all instead of telling a big lie. But that’s a big lie, Birdie. That’s an intentional lie—whether the lie was that early message you sent me or when we talked, whichever one it is, it’s a big lie. And it has me thinking…

You don’t make that kind of big lie unless you’re confident in your ability to deceive. That’s the kind of falsehood that’s spoken by an experienced liar, not an amateur. So it wouldn’t have been the only lie you told me. 

But experienced liars don’t fuck up unless they start to lose track of what lies they’ve told. So if you fucked up when you talked to me and told me the truth—that you do know what happened—then, well Birdie, that tells me you’re losing track of the lies. Which means that everything you’ve told me—everything—isn’t to be believed. 

Which puts me…well, if my intent here is to lay out everything I know that I’m pretty sure I’ve already failed. I know fucking nothing. 

[click, static]

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