Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

------

[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

I’m on my way to Salt Lake City, land of the Mormons. I have no idea what to expect from a city built by people who don’t drink or smoke or, god, even have caffeine. Maybe it’ll be just the same as every other city in America - half of the ones back East were founded by Puritans and teetotalers. 

I never had much use for religion. I remember my parents bringing me to church sometimes when I was a kid, but they weren’t that devout themselves so it never really sunk in. 

And no, my weeks on the road have not changed my mind about God. Not even that weird encounter in Colorado. Whether it was a trick of the light or a hallucination I was having…

[click, static]

Who am I kidding. Trick of the light? It wasn’t a trick of the light. And I’ve never hallucinated in my entire goddamn life, I can’t imagine that all this driving has had such an impact on me that I’ve suddenly started now. 

I’ve mostly been trying not to think about it. A ghost, a spirit, some kind of angel or demon…whatever it was, I haven’t seen anything like it since and I’m—

Even if it was a ghost, just because I believe in the afterlife doesn’t mean I believe in gods. And I’m not sure that’s what it was! I’m not sure I do believe in the afterlife! Maybe it was just…

[click, static]

Maybe I should pick up some Mormon writing in Utah, see if they have anything to say about it. 

I have always wondered about the multiple wives thing. How does that work exactly? Even if all the women really were happy with the situation—which I’m not saying is impossible, it just seems like a system where maybe they don’t get that much say either way—I can’t really fit the puzzle pieces together in my head. Is it easier if you all have one relationship within the larger…structure, or does everyone have relationships with everyone? I mean, I lived in New York for years and hung out in the art scene, I knew people who had both kinds of situations, and it never made sense to me in those cases either. Not to say it didn’t work for the people I knew, I’m just not sure it’d work for me. 

With the benefit of hindsight and plenty of time to reflect over the last few years, I’ve come to recognize that I…fixate. It hasn’t happened very often in my life, but when I lo—when I like someone, really like someone, I get a little bit of tunnel vision about them, whether I realize or not. And if I ever got that person, I don’t think I’d be selfless enough to share. 

Maybe that’s unhealthy, I don’t know. It certainly hasn’t helped me have good romantic relationships. I think one of the reasons I never was really able to commit to Martha is because by that point I was already crazy—

[click, static]

It wasn’t fair to Martha. The way I was I just wish I’d figured it out at the time, either to tell Martha the truth, make her understand it was never about her or to, ideally, give myself a smack upside the head and get over whatever feelings my heart decided to develop without my consent. If I’d known what I felt back then—really felt—I would’ve done everything in my power to make sure I stopped feeling that way. 

[click, static]

What about you, Birdie? Did you leave a partner behind? If the world were suddenly full of people, is that something you’d want?

I guess I can ask you about it on Thursday. Whiskey out. 

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Okay so… 
(sighs) “What choice marks”. That’s what you sent. I guess I should have seen that coming. It’s the question I’d ask too.

[click, static]

I’m surprised you haven’t put it together yet. We both know I haven’t been careful about what I say on here, what I say to you. I know you figured out that I was an art thief long before I told you. And I’ve already said a lot about…

[click, static]

We got caught, right? I’ve told you that. That last job…we got caught. I’m still not sure how, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. And that was a few months before we—

[click, static]

We were being transported. Harry and I. There’s a—um, there’s a federal prison in Pennsylvania and the two of us had gotten into a little trouble at the county jail that we’d been in before that so we were sent up the river.

I guess it isn’t really called that if you’re sent to Pennsylvania. We weren’t going up the Hudson to Sing-Sing, we were—

[click, static]

You know, I don’t actually like talking about it very much. It wasn't a particularly shining time in my life, you know? It’s not like I hadn’t spent time in jail before—a night here or there throughout my twenties for one thing or another, but this was…

I don’t even know where the guys ended up. I guess I should’ve been thankful that Harry was on the job with us, otherwise I’d have been entirely alone. It’s not like we shared a cell or anything, though if you count six years trapped in a house together in the woods then…

[click, static]

I shouldn’t joke about that. It’s not the same. Yeah, I complain about the last six years with Harry, how suffocating they were, how lonely and isolating and stifling it all was, how frustrating to be stuck with her and have no idea what was going on in the wider world but it beat the alternative by a long shot. Even before I knew there was a chance I could go back into the world, even when it seemed like the smart thing to do was stay in that house with her for the rest of time, it was still better than being where we were headed. A cage of your own choosing right? And even if the world hadn’t been flipped upside down, maybe enough years would’ve passed that we could’ve gone somewhere and started over.

[click, static]

I don’t mean together necessarily. I mean, we each could’ve gone wherever we want, taken on new names, dyed our hair…I don’t know. We assumed that our escape would’ve made us wanted fugitives—and I’m sure it would’ve if there’d been anyone to do the chasing—but I don’t know, I have to think that two art thieves would hardly have been on the FBI’s most wanted list forever or even to begin with. We could’ve figured something out once the initial heat had died down. I mean, it’s not like we were murderers or—

[click, static]

I don’t—

Look, it’s not important. What’s done is done and I’m not sure I owe you an explanation, not when you haven’t given me one for why you feel so guilty about your job. Other than the vague assertion that you’ve “hurt people”.

And you know what? You don’t have to tell me. Let’s just agree to skate past those parts of each other and move on, okay? There’s nothing to be gained from pulling out the skeletons from each other’s closets.

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Hey Birdie. 

I got to the Grand Canyon. 

I can’t believe I called it a hole in the ground. It is…so much more than that.  

I’ve never seen anything like it. 

I drove right up to the edge—who was gonna stop me, right? And now I’m sitting on the hood of my car, watching the sun rise. 

The colors are extraordinary. The light and the shadows, the different shades of the earth. The bits of reflected light from the river down below. 

This isn’t—I don’t know what you meant yesterday in saying I was wrong about the impression I’ve left on the world, but I don’t think you really appreciate the comparison I’m making. I’m not denying that I’ve made choices that have had…devastating consequence. Even if you take some of the lesser choices—the ones that I don’t feel regret over—they obviously still had an effect on people. Every piece of art I helped steal had some kind of ripple effect. 

But the real mark—the one, the last one I left, I guess…I know—I mean, I can only imagine the, not even ripple, the wave that that left. I know that there are some decisions that will leave permanent marks. On you just as much as others. 

But I’ve—I guess I’ve comforted myself with the fact that it didn’t matter after all. Even if we hadn’t—even if I hadn’t done what I did, everything was about to change anyway. The “incident” or whatever it was happened and changed the world overnight—or maybe really gradually, I don’t know. Everyone either died or was…raptured? Moved into underground cities? Abducted by aliens?

I was a meteor, maybe. But the crater is impossible to see because a much bigger meteor came along and blew away the earth around my crater. I’m one wave inside of a tsunami. 

I—I think maybe I know what you were trying to say though. I’ve been thinking about it—and about you and what I know about you—and you seem to walk around your life with this immense burden of responsibility on your shoulders. You told me that what you did—whatever happened with your job—still matters. And I'm sorry, I’m sorry it’s still haunting you. 

But if you’re trying to tell me that what I do matters, that it matters just as much as whatever happened with you? Trust me, I get it. I heard that particular lecture pretty often, for six straight years, I don’t need it from you. Don’t project your guilt onto me. 

So I’m just going to sit here, watching the sun rise over this beautiful, natural phenomenon, and marvel at the fact that as much as I matter, nothing I could ever do would erase this view from the world. 

[click, static]

[beeps]

.-- .... .- - / -.-. .... --- .. -.-. . / -- .- .-. -.- ... ..--..  What choice marks?

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Breaker breaker, this is Whiskey calling out for Birdie. You here?

[one beep]

Hell yes. How long’ve we got today?

[five beeps]

Five…five minutes? We have five minutes?

[one beep]

Okay, Jesus Christ. Well, I’ve been thinking about this, what I would ask. So let’s go, one beep for yes, two for no, three beeps when the answer is too complicated, and one dash for I don’t know. Alright?

[one beep]

Okay. Have you known who I am this whole time?

[two beeps]

No…okay, did you guess my name?

[two beeps]

Then how— 
Have you—have you seen me, in person somehow? Not that that would help you know my name…

[two beeps]

Did I—this is embarrassing but—have I told you my name and I just forgot?

[two beeps]

Okay, well, that’s a relief that I’m not broadcasting my name everywhere. 

[two beeps]

No? I am broadcasting my name?

[two beeps]

No again—

[dash dot dash dot; dash dash dot dash]

Can you do that again?

[dash dot dash dot; dash dash dot dash]

CQ - oh, seek you. Um…there was—there was a CQ for me?

[one beep]

What—you mean, so, you did hear my name over a broadcast?

[one beep]

Holy shit…what else did they say?

[two beeps]

So you just heard my name?

[one beep]

Do you know who it was?

[two beeps]

No, why would you. I don’t even know why I’m asking really…there’s only one person it could’ve been. And considering you sent me a message of my full first name, despite it being more to tap out…well, she’s the only one who doesn’t use the shortened version. Harry, that is. She’s the only one who knows I exist other than you. Who else would it have been?

So…Harry got a radio, learned how to use it, and broadcast something to me. Looking for me. 

[one beep]

Jesus, okay. How did I miss this?

[click, static]

Right, um, was it the middle of the night?

[two beeps]

Hm…oh- was it while I was camping? When I left the radio behind?

[one beep]

Shit. I wonder—god, I mean if I had been there would I have been able to…

Have you been able to get into contact with her?

[two beeps]

Have you tried?

[two beeps]

Would you try? I mean—what am I saying, I don’t know why I—

[click, static]

Do you think I should try to contact her?

[click, static]

I guess that’s not something you can really decide, huh? Do you think you have the capability to contact her? I’m not sure I do. 

[one long beep]

One dash— don’t know, right?

[one beep]

Okay, so you’re not sure if you could contact her, but you did pick up her broadcast. But not on purpose?

[one beep]

Yes, it was on purpose?

[two beeps]

Wha—oh, yes as in ‘that’s right’, it wasn’t on purpose. Okay, I clearly need to be more intentional in my phrasing. Do you think you picked her up on skip?

[one beep]

Right. Okay, I…I don’t know what to do with any of this, to be honest. 

[click, static]

Shit, okay, I don’t want to run out of time with you. I need to ask about the message you sent last night. You said “you’re wrong”. 

[one beep]

Wrong about what? I mean—was it something I said yesterday that I was wrong about?

[one beep]

Okay, I was talking about the meteor crater, right? So…I mean, I’m assuming it wasn’t about the crater itself. What else was I talking about…

The fact that we have no control over the impact that we make? You disagree?

[two beeps]

No, that’s not it. 

[dot dash, dash dot dot dot, dot dot]

I recognize that—my name, right? Well, the shortened version. 

[one beep]

So it was something about me that I said?

[one beep]

What, that the choices I’ve made didn’t change the world?

[one beep]

What? That’s what you think I’m wrong about?

[one beep]

Birdie, what does that mean?

[two long beeps]

What? Oh that’s—that’s goodbye isn’t it. 

[one beep]

Wait, you can’t leave yet, what do you mean?

[two long beeps]

Ugh, fine. But you’ll be here next Thursday? Same time?

[one beep]

Alright, I guess I’ll have to just live with that—but explain in your next transmission please. 

[two long beeps]

Whiskey out. 

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

So, I’m on my way to the Grand Canyon, but apparently Arizona is full of cavernous earth. Because I’m standing in front of an absolutely enormous hole in the ground. 

A meteor crashed here. I had no idea. Which is weird, right? Isn’t that something that everybody should just know? That we have an enormous meteor crater in our country? It feels noteworthy. 

But no, I only learned about it from a road sign on Route 66. Thank goodness for tourist trap advertising, I guess. There’s a little viewing deck and everything—apparently, the meteor crashed here over fifty thousand years ago. The viewing deck has a pair of binoculars pointed at an astronaut suit they put in the middle of the crater. Which is a bit of an odd choice if you ask me, but looking through it does give you an idea of the scale. 

If this is just a random meteor crater, how big is the Grand Canyon going to be? Was this all mundane to the average Arizona resident? I don’t know that I could handle it—the idea of driving around my state and stumbling across these massive voids of space. It’s too much—it’s too much of a reminder. 

A rock—a fucking rock—fell from the sky fifty thousand years ago and even now, this land is unusable. The Colorado River pushed through the ground for so long that it wore away at the very earth. 

Random chance versus persistence. Two opposite ends of a spectrum with the same result—nothing where there used to be something. The world, reshaped. 

There’s nothing we can do, is there? To ensure that we carve the path that we want or to be certain that we’re not eroding everything around us. It doesn’t matter if we make one spontaneous decision or we work hard at something for years—the result could be exactly the same. It could be the opposite of what we were going for. There are plenty of rivers in the world that have been flowing for just as long and haven’t made that kind of impact. There are plenty of meteors that hurdle through space without creating mass destruction. 

I don’t know whether to be comforted or disappointed by that. I told you I left my mark on this world already and that I wasn’t sure if I liked what shape it took and that’s true—but maybe there was nothing I could’ve done to make it different. After all, I haven’t had the power of a strong current or a burning meteor. 

I guess I should just be grateful that the impression I left wasn’t a mile wide. I left my mark, but it won’t still be visible in fifty thousand years. It didn’t change the curve of the world. 

[click, static]

[long static] 

[beeps]

You're wrong

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

I haven’t heard from you, which I’m trying not to read into too much. It’s not like we haven’t gone days—or weeks, even—without talking but I guess I’m feeling—

Well, between talking to you—actually talking to you—for the first time and you knowing my name…

Is this what it feels like to be…vulnerable? I know I’ve told you about K not calling me back and Millie moving away and my parents dying and—it’s not like I haven’t been vulnerable before. I have. Of course I have, I’m human. 

But it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to be. Well, I guess not that long if you count—

[click, static]

It doesn’t work out that well usually, does it? Caring about someone. Caring what they think about you, how they feel about you. Wanting to talk to them, to know them. There’s no way to do any of that—to have anything meaningful—without rolling over and showing your soft underbelly. And I’ve been kicked in the gut one too many times, Birdie. 

I thought the last one might kill me. 

But nothing has yet. 

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

[TRANSCRIPT]

[beeps]

[click, static]

I—I’m not sure I translated this message right. Except, I must have. I’ve gotten pretty good at this over the weeks and I listened again and again to make sure I had it right but how—

[click, static]

How do you know my name? That’s—I have to think that’s what that message is about. You wouldn’t send that randomly, it wouldn’t make any sense. Which means you know, you know that’s my real name, and that would be a hell of a first guess if you were just going off of the fact that it starts with A. 

You better start explaining yourself soon, Birdie. If you’ve known who I am this whole time, then…Well, Jesus, I’m not sure we can ever build that trust back.

I assume—well, I’m counting us on still being on for Thursday, so I guess you can do your best to explain it to me then. 

But the explanation better be fucking good. 

Whiskey out. 

[click, static]

.- -... .. --. .- .. .-..

Abigail

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Hey Birdie.  
I’m still…

[click, static]

I can’t believe we talked yesterday. It doesn’t feel real, it happened so fast and it still doesn’t feel real. But it is. It is real. You’re real. You’re real and you can hear me and I know that we’ve been communicating for months now but I didn’t realize just how different it would feel to have you responding in real time to me. 

Is it a sort of cumbersome way to have a conversation? Yeah, maybe. But it’s still the most scintillating interaction I’ve had in years. 

The same message came up a little while after you signed off—which was pretty abrupt by the way. Th, 9AM, Thursday 9AM. It broadcast for a little while and I’m not sure if its a holdover or you saying that you want to talk again next week? I hope it’s that. Either way, I’ll be sitting by the radio waiting. 

Just like you’re a date that has no interest in me.  

You said you don’t want me to know you. But I—I want you to reconsider, Birdie. I’m not going to—to hurt you, I’m not going to judge you, I’m not going to ask too much of you. Or, at least, I don’t think I will.  I’ll try not to. 

I know what it’s like to have something that you want to hide. Or to want to hide from the world completely. I’ve felt that—I’ve felt that for most of the last six years. And I know what it’s like to not be able to hide. I couldn’t, after everything that happened, because Harry was there. And I could never hide from her. 

But I think even hiding would’ve gotten tiring after a while. Aren’t you tired?

[click, static]

[beeps]

.- -... .. --. .- .. .-..

Abigail

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Birdie? You there?

[one beep]

Is that…is that you? Are you really here?

[one beep]

Okay—okay, jesus christ—wow. Hi. Oh my god, hi.

[click, static]

Right, I guess we’re not gonna have me translating full morse sentences in real time. Though—I’m up for that if you are?

[two beeps]

Two dots…that’s the letter “I” but…maybe you’re thinking what I’ve been thinking if we ever got a chance the talk. One beep for yes, two for no?

[one beep]

Yeah? Okay, do it again. One beep for yes. 

[one beep]

And two beeps for no?

[one beep]

Okay, how long do we have?

[two beeps]

No? Oh—yeah, I have to ask yes or no questions, huh? Can you stay for an hour?

[two beeps]

Half an hour?

[two beeps]

(sigh) Fifteen minutes?

[five beeps]

Five…five? You can stay for five minutes?

[one beep]

Ugh, okay. I guess I’ll take what I can get. What are you doing that you can only stay on the radio for five minutes? I’ve got all the time in the world, I could sit by the radio all day. Where do you have to be?

[click, static]

Right, yes or no. Um…are you safe?

[one beep]

Okay, that’s good. 

Will you tell me where you are?

[two beeps]

Why not?

[click, static]

Yeah. Alright, Whiskey, focus on the important questions…

Huh. That’s funny, I guess I really have started to think of myself as Whiskey. I mean, obviously that’s not my name, but after so many months of referring to myself by it, I guess it’s starting to worm its way in. 

Jesus, sorry, I’m so used to just saying every thought I have out loud but you’re here, you’re really here. 

Is Birdie your real name?

[two beeps]

That’s what I figured. Did you—did you pick a code name because you’re talking to people you don’t want to know the real you?

[one beep]

Really? How many people are you talking to??

[one beep]

Yes—yes, what?

[one beep]

Oh, one. One person. You’re just talking to me?

[one beep]

And you don’t want me to know who you really are. 

[click, static]

(sigh)

Okay. Right. That’s—well, you don’t know my real name either. But you do know everything else about me. 

Are you…this is a stupid fucking question maybe, but are you a young person? An old person? A kid somehow?

Um, okay, wait, so I’m thirty-four, I’ll be thirty-five in a few weeks actually. Are you older than me?

[one beep]

Yes. Okay…um, I don’t know why I asked that, what does it matter. Are you—do you know what happened in ’68?

[one beep]

You do. Well, can you tell me?

[one beep]

Yes? You will?

[two beeps]

You won’t?

[one beep]

Well, which is it?

[three beeps]

Is it too hard to explain over morse code?

[one beep]

Do you think we’ll ever talk face to face? Or…voice to voice or, I don’t know, some other method?

[one long beep]

One dash, not dot. Is that…I don’t know?

[one beep]

Right. Okay. 

Um, whatever happened in ‘68…did it happen everywhere? The whole world?

[one beep]

(sigh) Okay. That’s what I thought but it’s still…

I don’t know what to ask you, Birdie, I’m sorry. I—there’s too much! There’s too much I want to know. I want to know what you know about what got us here, I want to know who you are, I want to know what your job was, but I’m running out of time and I—

Is whatever’s in Denver related to what happened in ’68?

[one beep]

It is. If I went to Denver, could I figure out what happened?

[two beeps]

Are you just saying that because you don’t want me to go?

[one beep]

Yes? You are just saying that?

[two beeps]

No. Oh, yes, you don’t want me to go? Because it’s dangerous?

[one beep]

Okay but…look, it’s great to be talking to you and all but why the hell should I trust you?

[click, static]

Birdie?

[one long beep]

You don’t know. Great. Helpful. 

Denver, the collision point. Does that collision have to do with other people?

[three beeps]

Three dots. Too hard to explain over Morse, huh? Yeah, that feels like it’s going to be a pretty convenient excuse. 

[two long beeps]

Two dashes, what does that mean? That’s…M, what does that…

[two long beeps, then one very long beep]

Birdie? Birdie. 

[click, static]

Oh.  I guess our five minutes are up. Two dashes is goodbye. 

Then, goodbye, Birdie. 

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Um, so…I translated your most recent message. 

Sorry for getting distracted—I was figuring out what the best way to go to the grand canyon was and it seems like there’s…basically one way from here, so that’s sorted now. 

But, well Birdie, you did it again. You left me a fucking cryptic message. 

“Th. 9AM.” 

That’s all. I’m assuming the “Th” stands for Thursday? Day and time? Which is…tomorrow. And I really hope this isn’t a Denver situation and there isn’t something I need to avoid at 9AM tomorrow, because I would really need more information than that. 

The other option—and maybe I’m crazy for thinking this, for hoping this. But maybe you’re telling me to be on the radio tomorrow at 9? You know where I am so you know my timezone—at least, I hope you do. I’ll probably just sit on the radio starting at 6AM to be honest. I have to assume you’re somewhere in North America. 

If you are telling me to be on the radio tomorrow, I have to think it’s not just another morse code message. You’ve never told me to listen at a specific time before, you seem to have it rigged up to continuously broadcast. 

So that means…

Birdie, are we going to talk? Really talk?

I guess…I guess I’ll find out. 

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.