KRVN-AM 1420 broadcasts from a cinderblock building at the end of a gravel road outside Ord, Nebraska. Dale does midnight to six—the Static Hour—for an audience the ratings service can only render as an asterisk. Which means nobody.
Then, at 3:12 one January morning, the request line rings.
The caller says his name is Ray. He knows the desk lamp is on. He knows the overheads are off because they buzz. He knows about the coffee ring on the console, the dead wasp on the windowsill, and the woman Dale has never once mentioned on the air.
Ray isn't in the parking lot. He's a lot closer than that.
He calls every night after that. He never threatens. He never asks for anything. He's good company—and that is exactly the problem. Because Ray has a theory about where a voice goes once it leaves the microphone, who is out there listening, and how much of Dale has already made the trip.
A signal doesn't stop. It just gets thinner.
A complete short story of quiet, creeping horror. Roughly one sitting. Book 8 of The Unquiet Collection—standalone stories that can be read in any order.