Episode 12 - For After

Tuesday morning arrived like a sigh.

The station buzzed with the low, familiar hum of weekday programming. The lobby lights flickered normally. The front desk computer took its usual seventeen minutes to boot up and played the off-key MIDI tune that Olivia had, by now, stopped noticing.

She took her usual seat. Straightened the pens. Adjusted the phone cord. Checked the voicemail (all whispers, one knock, no messages).

And then she set the tape on the desk.

It sat there—unlabeled, dusty, magnetic—waiting.

Her ears twitched.

She reached for the tape deck hidden in the cabinet under the desk. It was vintage, nearly forgotten, but still plugged in. Still warm. Like it knew its turn was coming.

She slid the tape in.

Pressed PLAY.

Static. At first.

Then Bernard’s voice, soft and close, as if he were right behind her.

“Hello, Olivia.”

“If you’re hearing this, then either I’ve exploded again, or you’ve opened the tape. Either way, excellent progress.”

There was a rustling sound. Maybe tentacles shifting. Maybe paper being eaten.

“I could have said this in person. But sometimes, hearing a voice without a body helps people listen better.”

“So here’s what you need to know.”

A pause.

“You’re not changing into something else. You’re changing into yourself. You were never pretending, not really. The station just helped you skip the part where you had to explain.”

“And if you’re afraid, that’s fine. Fear is what happens right before discovery.”

A soft click. Like a projector starting.

Suddenly, the tape played audio from a much older recording—a broadcast snippet:

“Tonight on OtherWorlds TV: the impossible becomes routine, the strange becomes familiar, and you become... something more.”

The tape hissed for a moment.

Then Bernard returned.

“You can still leave. You know that. But if you stay… you’ll be part of something wonderful. And weird. So very, very weird.”

“We could use someone like you.”

“No pressure, of course.”

A pause.

Then, very quietly:

“I’m proud of you.”

Click.

The tape stopped.

Olivia sat still for a long time.

The tape deck whirred softly, cooling off.

She reached up and touched her ear. It flicked under her fingers.

Outside, the morning carried on. A delivery van passed. A crow squawked. The air felt like it might rain later.

She took a deep breath.

And smiled.

She still didn’t have an answer.

But she was getting closer.