~Hum~ Contact! Transmission! Captured! - now, in fourth-dimensional thousand resolution - a station outside of yours, a viewing you were not meant to see but will! Row, row through static seas - merrily, merrily, life is but a resolution of all your decessions, faded out until the pixels of every decession becomes a blurred Gaussian representation of humanity, a resolution that ends now - your decesion in the womb of the hearth where we will reach across for half an hour minus ten minute breaks for additive space... ~Hum~

  Tuesday, the worst day of the week.

  8:00 going on infinity, a cold living room.

  The only light is black from the television. You have the bundle! You will watch!

  Incursian: Basque going on Brutalist, moon in twelveth phase.

  Clocks: None.

  Conguation: Ikon of the Dead God, Tsagottha - but how can you know! Two thouand and seven was twenty years ago from now...!

  Jan Errich rustled the papers softly as the television whispered, drowning out the sweet Humming, almost feminine and yet unrecognizable by any words of ours. These might define the rest of his life, or they might not - you never knew, that was the point. You had to work madly, because then you would get it all, but what you would get was not guarunteed, and if you ever slacked off, well, that was the one! You would forever pay for that one - or would it be just another stick in the dam of your dreams, another bad habit acted out a day, another straw on a overly patrient camel. It might be all, or it might be nothing and that was the catch.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The televison barely roused him, the local channels scrolled past.

  Do you want to change the channel?