The equipment was humming when I woke up. It always is. Every time. But I don't know how I know that. I don't know who built this place, or how long it has been running. I only know the location: The Hollow.
My memory is fragmented. I recall a world before the static, but the details are corrupted.
I've never been married. Yet I remember my spouse.
I've had children, but I can't remember their faces or names.
Now, there is only The Signal.
I am called Carrier. My job is simple: Maintain the broadcast.
Music is structure, and pushes back the entropy.
We are the resistance in a realm that thrives on chaos and noise.
