THE FREQUENCY OF FORGETTING*

 **TITLE: THE FREQUENCY OF FORGETTING**

**CHARACTERS:**

 * **NARRATOR:** A voice like dry parchment and cold steel.

 * **ARTHUR:** A lonely night-shift radio technician.

 * **CLARA:** His wife (heard only through an old intercom system).

**(SFX: THE LOW, STEADY HUM OF A RADIO TRANSMITTER. STATIC CRACKLES IN THE BACKGROUND, RHYTHMIC AND PULSING.)**

**NARRATOR:** There is a silence that lives between the stations, a frequency where the discarded thoughts of the universe go to die. We think we are alone in the dark, but sometimes, the dark decides to broadcast back.

**(SFX: THE SHARP CLACK OF A HEAVY SWITCH.)**

**ARTHUR:** (Muttering, tired) Come on, you piece of junk. Just hold the signal for one more hour.

**(SFX: A LOUD, UNSETTLING BURST OF STATIC THAT SOUNDS ALMOST LIKE A HUMAN CHUCKLE.)**

**ARTHUR:** (Startled) What the—?

**(SFX: THE STATIC CLEARS. A VOICE EMERGES—IT IS ARTHUR’S OWN VOICE, BUT DISTORTED, SLOWED DOWN BY HALF.)**

**RADIO VOICE:** *Arthur… the light… it isn’t going… to come… back on.*

**ARTHUR:** (Breathless) Who is this? This is a private frequency. How are you accessing the board?

**RADIO VOICE:** *I am… the echo… of the man… you were… yesterday.*

**(SFX: AN INTERCOM BUZZES VIOLENTLY.)**

**CLARA (Over Intercom):** Arthur? Arthur, are you still there? The power just died in the whole neighborhood. And… Arthur, the sky. The stars are blinking out. One by one.

**ARTHUR:** Clara? Stay inside. Lock the doors. I’m seeing something on the monitor. A signal… it’s not coming from Earth. It’s coming from *inside* the house.

**CLARA (Over Intercom):** (Voice trembling) Arthur, there’s someone standing in the hallway. They look like… they look like you. But their eyes… they aren’t eyes, Arthur. They’re just more static.

**(SFX: THE TRANSMITTER HUM RISES TO A SCREECHING PITCH.)**

**ARTHUR:** (Panicked) I’m coming, Clara! Hang on!

**RADIO VOICE:** (Clear now, perfectly mimicking Arthur) You can’t go back, Arthur. You never left the transmitter room. You’ve been broadcasting for a thousand years. Look at your hands.

**(SFX: THE SOUND OF HUMMING STOPS ABRUPTLY. THE SILENCE IS DEAFENING.)**

**ARTHUR:** (A whisper of pure terror) My hands… they’re turning… to dust.

**RADIO VOICE:** Welcome to the quiet, Arthur. You’re finally part of the broadcast.

**(SFX: A FINAL, LOUD BURST OF WHITE NOISE THAT SUDDENLY CUTS TO COMPLETE SILENCE.)**

**NARRATOR:** We are cautioned against exploring the deep reaches of space, warned that the void is vast and empty. But the true terror is not what lies in the stars—it is the terrifying realization that we are merely signals, waiting for someone to finally turn off the dial.

**(SFX: THE FAINT, DISTANT SOUND OF A SINGLE, LONELY RADIO BEEP, REPEATING INTO ETERNITY.)**

**NARRATOR:** Tonight’s episode of *The Outer Limits* has concluded. Please… adjust your television sets. Or better yet… unplug them.

**(S

FX: FADE TO BLACK SILENCE.)**