The old station seems to be in good condition. It's dusty and most of the glass is gone. It's been stripped of anything the wanderers feel is useful, but nothing seems to be broken. When we flipped the power switch, we were certain the whole place would just explode. We crossed the wasteland for days searching for this place. Faced off with nomads, fled from the corps and most of all survived. If this station wasn't in working condition, or didn't exist, I might have put a bullet in my own my skull and one for Ratface too.
"Hey, we should play this one, or maybe this one," Ratface scrolls through a list of songs.
"Just pick a song, it's not like we've ever heard any of these old tunes."
I wipe away some of the dust on the old pilots chair. It squeaks as I sit in it, putting weight on it for the first time in decades, maybe even centuries. I'm not a historian. I wipe away the dust on the control panel, just barely able to read the old faded writing with instructions, labels and arrows. I flick the switch to go live across the airwaves. We'll be the first radio station in Neo Kitcham that isn't owned by a corporation. The only reason Farriver Corp didn't chase us further is because we're out of their boundaries. They didn't want to spark another war. They won't come here without weeks of negotiations and we'll know they're coming then.
"Hello Neo Kitcham," I speak into the microphone, pausing for a response.
"You can't hear them respond," Ratface says.
"Shut it. I know that, I was just thinking what to say."
"Tell them we're here to play old tunes and rile the people up with some illegal talk radio."
"Well you just told them since we're on the air."
"Cool. Here's some tunes. 'Jet Black Beauty' by Venom Johnson," Ratface presses play.
"How do we know it worked?"
"We just wait to see if anyone contacts us on The Nexus."
