TRANSMISSION 001 — THE NUMBERS

The radio woke me at 3:14. Static, then a voice reading numbers, then static again. I wrote the numbers down. When I looked at the paper this morning the ink had run, as if the page had been left out in the rain. The window has not been opened in weeks.

I keep a log here now. It feels safer than keeping it in my head, where things tend to rearrange themselves. If you are reading this, you found the signal. That is either very good or very bad and I am no longer certain there is a difference.

The door to room 312 is still locked. The key is in my pocket. I have not tried it.

More soon. The hallway light is flickering and I would rather not be writing when it stops.