Night 25; Radio Broadcast #2
(For the second time that night, the radios all over the institute clicked on with sudden authority. Loud, almost psychedelic guitar riffs - Jimi Hendrix, perhaps - blasted through speakers before fading and allowing the nighttime DJ's voice to be heard, thick with something implacable and fraught with breathy pauses, as though he were smoking heavily.)
One down, two to go. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Two lovely ladies are making music with the monsters as we speak. Good luck, ladies, I hope you win your trinket. But oh, I do like to see you get ahead. You’ve never bled for nothing, I promise you that. Just ignore that square cat on the intercom. He’s not worth our time. But man, is he funny.
I can’t take my own advice. Oh, Martin, Martin, Martin. Your ego is showing, and it is big. You accuse me of fear. I will admit it: I am afraid. I fear you like any sane man would fear a rabid dog or a schizophrenic sasquatch. You are unstable, irrational, frenzied and mad. I would be a stupid man indeed not to have some fear.
But you mistake healthy wary for cowardice. A coward, ha! I braved your labyrinth, your hellish maze, I wandered these halls weaponless and at the mercy of your staff - and prisoners. The things I did in these halls…. But you know all about that, don’t you? You found out, I know you did, and you struck at me. And I will never forgive you.
You make me sick, Martin Landel! I remember when you were sane. I remember when you had some vestiges of humanity, of morality, of reality. They’re all gone now. Madder than a mad cow and twice as rotten, that’s you, Martin.
Do your superiors know? Oh! Whoops! Did I let a cat out of the bag there? That’s right my listening friends, your big bad bogey man is not the biggest or the baddest. He’s just a little doctor with delusions of grandeur, middle management with a god complex, a cog in the wheel.
Don’t let him fool you into thinking he’s anything important.
You are a mad dog, Martin, being used. And one way or another, you will be put down.
No one’s visited the dead yet. I guess you don’t want the prize. What a shame, I put so much thought into it.
(Without the usual sign off, the radios all snapped off once more.)
One down, two to go. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Two lovely ladies are making music with the monsters as we speak. Good luck, ladies, I hope you win your trinket. But oh, I do like to see you get ahead. You’ve never bled for nothing, I promise you that. Just ignore that square cat on the intercom. He’s not worth our time. But man, is he funny.
I can’t take my own advice. Oh, Martin, Martin, Martin. Your ego is showing, and it is big. You accuse me of fear. I will admit it: I am afraid. I fear you like any sane man would fear a rabid dog or a schizophrenic sasquatch. You are unstable, irrational, frenzied and mad. I would be a stupid man indeed not to have some fear.
But you mistake healthy wary for cowardice. A coward, ha! I braved your labyrinth, your hellish maze, I wandered these halls weaponless and at the mercy of your staff - and prisoners. The things I did in these halls…. But you know all about that, don’t you? You found out, I know you did, and you struck at me. And I will never forgive you.
You make me sick, Martin Landel! I remember when you were sane. I remember when you had some vestiges of humanity, of morality, of reality. They’re all gone now. Madder than a mad cow and twice as rotten, that’s you, Martin.
Do your superiors know? Oh! Whoops! Did I let a cat out of the bag there? That’s right my listening friends, your big bad bogey man is not the biggest or the baddest. He’s just a little doctor with delusions of grandeur, middle management with a god complex, a cog in the wheel.
Don’t let him fool you into thinking he’s anything important.
You are a mad dog, Martin, being used. And one way or another, you will be put down.
No one’s visited the dead yet. I guess you don’t want the prize. What a shame, I put so much thought into it.
(Without the usual sign off, the radios all snapped off once more.)