"Hello caller, you're on the air..." "They are out there, you know. They've been here for years, longer than us to be sure." "Now, among the red towers of brick and neon, concrete and glass, they emerge from the deep-dark. Hundreds, thousands, maybe more, come forth as legion. They come, however disjointed, they remain unified in spirit." "What are their goals? Nightly, they move from neighborhood to neighborhood, victim to victim, engaging in ten-thousand guerilla actions. Clad in their domino masks and black gloves, none know whom specifically, but there is little doubt in general." "And what happens when you confront them? Dead eyes shine in the dark, reflecting only that light they steal from the world. No emotion, but equally no peace." "Today, the naïve are unaware of the danger that pervades this city, their families, their own lives. Do they not think that the ambitions of these thieves does not rise higher? Higher

  “ Hello caller, you are on the air. ” “I took this job about 6 months ago, and it’s been tough going. I worked security back east for years before moving out here to the West Coast; apartments, scrap yards, abandoned buildings owned by some investment company that is nervous that someone might have the audacity to go into an empty building. My ops manager said something about ‘liability concerns’, but honestly I chalk it up to old dudes in pinstripes being stingy assholes.” “When I first came here, though, to my new site in town, I knew that there was something wrong here. They got me watching out at a waste dump; you know, like where shit flies outta the water system? It stinks, literally, hah! Slow work; easy work. At first. My first thoughts were that this was another warm-body site at another industrial zone where no one in there right mind, or their little brother’s, would ever think about fooling around. My first clue that this might not be true was in the post orders, whic

  “Hello caller, you are on the air.” “Whenever I get on the bus, I get nervous. Am I on the right bus? We’ve all done it—think we are boarding one line, and actually get on another. It sucks! It adds time, stress, and just messes with your entire morning. The worst part is the stares you get from others as you get more and more nervous. You  can always feel their eyes on me, and then the moisture starts, clothes cling, and they just stare. You try to notify the driver, but they just ignore you. Some of the more passive-aggressive drivers even tap the “no talking to the driver while in motion” sign. You just stand there. And panic.” “Sitting there, you think that you can pull the cord, and get off at the next stop. Sure, it’s nowhere near where you are going, where you started, or anywhere else, but it stops you from going farther away. You pull the cord… and nothing. The bus keeps going. You keep pulling the cord, and it keeps making that stupid little ‘ding’, and everything just

 “ Hello caller, you are on the air. ” “I have lived here for about a year now, fleeing the outrageous rent in the Bay area down south. Port Astor? Oh yeah, it’s affordable, but the rent is four-hundred dollars for a fuckin’ reason, pal. This city ain’t right. You ever look at the eyes of people from here? Most of them glassy-eyed, and dead. They wander aimlessly. And the ones that ain’t? There’s something really wrong with them. You got the ones that’ll dome you for looking at them too long, or the real friendly ones. Like, even in the South they’d be pushing it. But here? They stick out like red wine on a wedding dress. I avoid those the most. The angry ones want to attack you, but I don’t know what the hell the smiling ones want.” “Then, once in a while, you get someone that could pass as normal. I don’t get it. There’s nothing remarkable about them, which is what makes them remarkable. Their normality is abnormal. What the fuck is it? I’m driving down the street, and past the usual

 " Hello caller, you are on the air. " "Am I a bad person? I moved back home to Eugene after graduation. I got my degree in pharmacology, and to be honest, I didn't know what I was going to do with it. My mom told me, frequently, that she didn't know why I didn't go for pre-med instead. I told her it was because I just wasn't interested; the real reason was that I just couldn't bring myself to go into something that would eat so much of my empathy. What if I couldn't save someone? What would I tell a grieving spouse? 'I did all I could'? I could not tell her that I was a coward." "Am I a bad person? I couldn't take it anymore. I moved to Portland to get away. I got a job as a lab assistant at one of the universities in the city; better that than some retail pharmacy. I lived in an SRO building for a time. Truth be told, I kind of miss those days; me and the others there would get cheap sake and instant noodles from the nearby

 " Hello caller, you are on the air. " "Every morning, I cross the Nimitz Bridge from North Astor into the city. Every morning, I see the billboard for Mooredock, Donnelly, and Ross; their fake-in-their-perfection smiles. The sign reads that I need to call them." "Every evening, I cross the Nimitz Bridge from the city into North Astor. Every evening, I see the billboard for Mooredock, Donnelly, and Ross in my rear-view mirror; their eyes wide in a savage glee. They tell me that they know what I’ve done." "I drive up the hill that overlooks the channel up to my spacious home, minimalist in design and furnishing. I open the several locks that secure the door of my home, and just as quickly secure them once inside. The dark of the house in sharp contrast to the light peering in from the large bay windows, rendering the space in monochromatic amber and black." "Every night, I stare from my house at the Nimitz Bridge. Every night, I see the

 " Hello caller, you are on the air " "I can't sleep. I see my days play out in my mind; the banality of my life projected like old film upon the canvas of my closed eyes. The fine details lost under patina so heavy as to be entirely lost. And what plays on that movie? Which is so gray and dull as to be worn river rock? The small moments of each passing day, but utterly unable to be separate from one-another. Already lifeless as it is reduced to the mere physicality of brain matter and electrical activity." "But more than that, the failings of my life, none individually extraordinary, consume me in their totality. Lack of family, found or otherwise; the path of my life so lost in the weeds as to make me wonder if it was ever really there." " I can't sleep . As I lay there, watching that film, I fear that it will still be playing when I open my eyes; looming over me as I lay in the dark, illuminated by what little inner-city light that creep-cr