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Breaker WhiskeyAuthor: Atypical Artists
BREAKER WHISKEY is an ongoing, daily microfiction podcast exploring one womans journey to find additional survivors in an America made empty by an unknown event in the late 1960s. In 1968, two women find themselves in rural Pennsylvania during what turns out to be some kind of apocalyptic event. By the time they discover that everyone else is gone, its too late to figure out what happened. Despite not liking each other at all, the women work together to survive, until six years later one of them sets out on her own, driving around the country to find other survivors. This is her, calling out to anyone who might listen. BREAKER WHISKEY is made by Lauren Shippen and recorded on a 1976 Midland CB Radio. It releases daily, Monday through Friday. If you would like the entire week's episodes as one single download, released on Monday, you can support the show at patreon.com/breakerwhiskey or by becoming an Atypical Plus supporter at atypicalartists.co/support. Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey. Language: en Genres: Fiction, Science Fiction Contact email: Get it Feed URL: Get it iTunes ID: Get it Trailer: |
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264 - Two Hundred Sixty Four
Episode 264
Wednesday, 18 December, 2024
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 atypicalartists.co/support. If you'd like to send Whiskey a message, click here. -- [TRANSCRIPT] Breaker, breaker, this is Whiskey calling out for Herm. Hi, Herm. It's good to meet you. Good to hear from you. Good to hear from anyone, really. We've left the place that we were--coming down the mountain--and we've been moving around a little. So I haven't been on the radio as much as I would like. I'm also a little unsure how far my radio is reaching. I had the benefit of all of Birdie's equipment up on the mountain. And now, I mean, I think I think I was able to jerry rig something that will work pretty much like Birdie's set up worked, but I don't actually know for certain. I'm hoping...I'm hoping we can go back in the spring, but it was just...it would have been dangerous, foolish to stay up there throughout the winter. I mean, it was freezing by the time we left. But anyway, Herm, your timeline. Sounds interesting, this fresh start that you're describing, the fact that you're with people but they don't know who you are. They don't know that you've flipped into a different version of the world. Color me intrigued. Is this how all of you have felt whenever I've alluded to something without actually giving much information about it? It's interesting and also frustrating to have just some of the information. I think--I think you're probably right. That I wouldn't have shared the information that I shared if I weren't in the circumstance that I'm in. But I don't regret it. Not just because it allowed me to say a bunch of stuff to Harry that I don't think I would have been able to say to her face and...to maybe say some things to...to Billings' son. If he was listening. If any of that means anything. It's not just the freedom of getting to speak to people that I know or people that I have something to say to specifically. I don't regret it because there's something freeing about all of it. There's something to be said for having this audio diary of my life of the past year and change of everything that I've been through. And there's something nice about people reaching out their voices to me as if they were already friends. The fact that I can mean anything to anybody, any stranger is...I mean...humbling. Just like you're experiencing. And it's surreal, but it makes it easier. It makes living in this big, empty world easier. Hearing from...from all of you. Some of you are like me. You're alone where you are. But a lot of you-- you're in the timelines that I guess are a bit closer to the one that you left. And I wonder if there are other people out there who don't even realize that they've slipped into a different timeline? I don't know which would be worse, right? I don't know if those people feel that something is off, that something isn't quite right. If it's like the feeling of worrying that you left your stove on, but not being able to go back and check. I don't know if I could live with that feeling every day in my life. Is it better to live in a world where I so obviously don't belong? Because. At least I know it. It must be lonely being the only person who knows that you're in a different place. I mean, that's what I'm assuming, based on what you said, but. Yeah. It must be lonely, especially if you have friends, but they're not the ones that you chose. I like your cats' names. Mimzi and JubJub are very good names for cats. I never read the Jabberwocky, but that's an Alice in Wonderland thing, right? Lewis Carroll. I think Harry would understand you, though, wanting to have your books. But it's funny. I never really gave much thought these last seven years about who I wish I'd been stuck with. I guess because as much as it was agony so much of the time, I was with the person that I would have chosen. I don't...I haven't told her that. You know? I mean, things have been things have been good and getting better all the time, but. There's still that sense that while we're the only two people on Earth, I mean, not actually, but in every way that counts, we're the only two people on earth. So. It's good that we can tolerate each other. It's good that we can express these emotions that we have for each other now, but...I don't know if acknowledging that and being what we are now, I don't I don't know if that counts as telling her that I would have chosen her anyway. That even if we were back in Manhattan, in the life we used to live, I still would have chosen her. I think she knows. She's stopped listening to my transmissions, mostly because she's, you know, near me when I make them. And we only have so many radios traveling with us. It was different back on the mountain, but I should probably tell her, right? It's nice to get to say these things first to you. To have you know me in this way, even though I barely know you. I still-- I like having these things just be mine. Just be ours. So, thank you, Herm. For saying that I mean a lot to you. And you haven't been intrusive. I have been putting my diary out for the whole world to hear. So, you know, don't worry about it. You're not violating any kind of privacy line. And I'm not sure that there's a point in comparing the experiences. You're allowed to complain however much you want to complain, and if it makes you feel like a child, then I say embrace that. I haven't felt like a child in so long. And. I don't know. Maybe...maybe that'll be a goal of mine. To feel more like a child. All right, Herm. Um. Thanks for...thanks for reaching out. For letting me matter to yo. And you mentioned missing someone. I think Arthur maybe was the name, and I just-- I hope you find them. Whiskey out.
