CHAPTER THREE
"Poppy this is a stupid plan. Sleep all day, work all night? What about your real job, the one
that pays you?"
Fig is usually right about things like this, but Poppy thinks about ignoring her this time.
She's a red panda, big with fluffy fur. From experience Poppy knows she's incredibly
huggable, but isn't the best with socializing. She helps to run the bike shop, Leon's Crank
and Chain, with her partner Newton, a fluffy white dog who put all of his stats in looks and
charisma. Poppy hangs out here whenever she can, they tune her bike up for free plus parts
cost, they're the only friends she has locally anymore, really. The shop itself is tiny, bikes
and parts everywhere with tight aisles between. Being in the heart of downtown there wasn't
much free floor space to spare, but there's a small clearing in front of the counter with some
chairs spread around for waiting customers. A bird of some sort looks at trail bikes in the
back of the shop.
"Look, this radio host thing is only a few hours from midnight to two. I sleep before and I
sleep after, I can still get a full nights sleep, just split up!"
"Yes, but then you have to get to and from the studio, and to and from work. What's the plan
for that?"
"Well, I can sleep at the studio! I think Cheese said something about a chemical shower I
could use to clean myself." Fig looks incredibly put off at this
Newton comes out of the back, evidently listening the whole time. "I had a friend who did
that in college, they started calling him the nightcrawler, because he looked like death all the
time."
Fig scoffs at this, turning to her partner and giving him a smirk. "Poppy, why do you want
to do this? I don't think I've ever heard you talk about radio before."
"Two answers to that. Canned answer, I've always been interested in doing radio of some
sort, it'll be fun to share music and stories. Real answer, I'm hoping this can become
something paid and I can stop working in a damn factory."
Newton walks behind the counter, tail wagging, and kisses fig on the cheek. Her cheeks go
a little red but she still looks calm, almost tuned out. "You can try it out. we'll support you in
whatever you do, bun."
Newton chimes in. "And hey, maybe you can do some ads for the shop! Spread the word
for us!"
Poppy chuckles a little, hand in front of her mouth. "I could do, yea, but only if you help me
out when my breaks finally go."
"Are they broken?"
"Sort of, I can feel them starting to get weaker. It'll last me another few weeks, I think. Big
paycheck coming in from overtime"
"Just be careful, ok hun?" Fig looks really worried, And Poppy isn't sure if it's because of
the brakes or this new job. Either way, she knows that Fig has her best interests in mind.
"Of course."
--- --- ---
Poppy's never been to this part of town before, there are no street lamps and the studio only
has a dim floodlight to mark its presence in the dark. The studio itself is tiny, the whole
building may not be bigger than a convenience store. '107.9, WWAK, The Free Voice Of
Leafland.' the sign above the door reads. A faint buzzing can be heard from behind the
building, probably part of the broadcast tower which looms 100 feet above. Poppy struggles
to find a place to chain up her bike, eventually settling for a nearby fencepost. A frog is
leaning against one of the stucco-white walls, scrolling through their phone. They look up
and recognition flashes across their face. "You're poppy, right? from the forum?"
"Oh my god, are you cheese fu- uhh, cheese?"
"I am, yes! Just call me Kelpy, it/its." It comes up to her and they shake hands. Its hands are
goopy, but under the moisture its firm, like woodworkers hands.
"You already know my name, she/her works fine. Thank you so much for letting me try this,
I've always wanted to be on radio!"
"No problem! It's fun, sort of. Come on, I'll show you inside the building." Kelpy fumbles
with a giant keyring, eventually finding one with a silicone protector adorned with flames. It
puts the key into the front door and turns, propping it open. "Also, if I were you I'd bring
the bike inside. Unless you don't like it that much." Poppy grabs the bike and wheels it into
the front office. The desk where a receptionist might sit is empty, it's too late at night for
most of the staff to stay around. The exterior of the building is nothing compared to the
interior, pulled out of a bad movie set. It's dim and musty and sad and the walls are yellow.
Everything is yellow, from age or bad lighting or just a general pity permeating the
structure. Poppy kinda loves it. They could be the only two people in the building, hell if the
building was full it would still be creepy.
Kelpy cuts in. "We're the only ones here, I'm the night technician, engineer and DJ all in
one, at least I have been since our last midnight host quit a week ago. If I teach you how the
system works, would you be willing to run your own show so I can focus on fixing some
electrical problems we've been having?"
"Sure, wasn't the manager going to meet me here?"
"Yea, but she had something come up. Don't worry, you'll meet her, she's.. intimidating."
"Not a good boss?"
"She's the best boss in the world, she's never here. The only time I've seen her was when she
came down to fire the last host. It was quite the scene, very scary, very primal."
"I see..." The clock on the wall in the front office is in the shape of a kitten, the eyes and tail
going back and forth. Poppy wonders what some of her cat friends would have to say about
it before noticing the time, 11:55. "Oh my god, it's almost midnight! The show!"
Kelpy runs away, yelling for her to follow. She goes around a few corners and down ahallway lined with photos before getting to a room with a light over the door. She enters,
and is in the recording booth with Kelpy. It's tight, 2 people barely fit into the padded room.
There's a chair, a desk and a microphone, plus an ancient computer terminal and keyboard.
"Ok, I'll give you the quick rundown before I have to go check the autopilot. Speak into the
microphone, keep it about 6 inches from your mouth. This filter here cuts out popping, the
'puh' sound you hear in cheap recordings. This button on the keyboard mutes and unmutes
you, remember to mute when you start a song ok? The terminal lets you control the basics
of your mix and choose songs to be added to a queue. We only have about 10000 songs
right now, you can bring in some CDs of your own if whats in there isn't to your taste.
Theres a 6 second delay between you talking and it airing, so if you mess up we can redo a
line quick and get the time back during commercials. Oh gosh, commercials! When the light
up here goes off" it points to one of two lights high up on the wall, the blue one. "That
means commercial after this song. Click here to queue those up, just like you would a
song."
Poppy interrupts "what does that red light mean?"
"Oh, that's a holdover from the cold war, for atomic attacks. Look, the intercom between
here and the engineers room is broke, if you need me text me or bang on the glass. Any
questions?"
"Yeah, what kind of songs are we playing? Anything in particular?"
"You can do whatever you want, just try not to swear ok? You're on in ninety seconds!'
kelpy runs out of the booth, closing the door behind it. Poppy looks around for a second,
and sits down at the chair. She puts on the headphones and starts to look through the
computer terminal. It's ancient, and the server it connects to must be even older, but it's
loaded with hit songs up to about 5 years ago, plus a collection of jazz, blues, funk, disco
(lots of disco,) Christmas (LOTS of Christmas,) and some classical. She queues up some
jazz and funk hits and gets ready for air. She checks her phone, and Kelpy is already
texting.
"There's a small lead-in, I'll tell you when to unmute and stop talking and you run from
there until first commercial ok? Good luck!!!!!"
The time on the terminal reads 11:59:30, half a minute until air. Poppy is terrified, frozen
with fear. Everything comes to her all at once, stage freight and self loathing wrapped up ina burrito of horrid things. The room around her gets smaller and smaller until she feels like
she can hardly breathe. She spirals for a second before hearing faint meowing sounds from
the clock outside. She looks down at her phone and sees a text from Kelpy reading "go go
go go!!!!!!!!" She unmutes the microphone and starts to speak.
"g-g-good evening, Leafland! M-my name is Poppy, and I'm a jackalope, and I'm on a radio
show for the first time. This is my midnight radio, jamboree, uh thing." She can hear herself
in the headphones, her voice is shaky. She struggles to find the strength. "We've got some
jazz and funk for you, so you don't have to her me struggle through this. First up is Sammy
Lawson, Bitches of the night. Uhh, enjoy!" She mutes and queues up the song. Should she
have said 'bitch?' It's the name of the album, after all. The song starts to play and she can
hear it.
She thinks of the good memories she has with this album, the people she's shared it with.
It's somber, the piano and clarinet playing around each other before coming into harmony in
front of a sax and drums. She wants to say so much about the album, she knows all of the
trivia. She opens the desk drawer and finds a pen and notepad. She starts writing things
down. The song comes to an end, and she barely remembers to stop the next song playing
before turning on her mic again.
"That was something from Sammy Lawson's Bit-uhh, of the Night, his 17th studio album.
H-he said that the album was inspired by riding the bus to the studio every day and
watching a romance unfold between two other passengers. I ride the bus to work, so I relate
to that a lot. You see a lot of things when you look around you, sometimes it's bad but
sometimes theres wonderful things. Next up is-" The blue light comes on. How long had
she been talking? "Next up is commercial, then more Sammy Lawson on 107.9 WWAK
Hanover." She clears the queue and adds in the commercials, once they're playing the light
goes off. She calls Kelpy.
"Oh my god that was so bad, I talked for so long!!"
"No no it was great! You were really nervous at the start but you did pretty good before
commercial! You'll be in break for another 2 minutes, so take the time to collect yourself, get
some more tracks queued. You've got this." Kelpy hangs up, and Poppy gets to work. She
finds four or five songs that fit the first one pretty well, and queues them up after
commercial. She'll let two play, then talk for a bit, then let another few play, then more
commercials. She likes this, it's like making a playlist in real time, improvisational
philosophy.
--- --- ---
eventually two o'clock comes around, and Poppy is drained. Aside from a few times she left
the microphone on, her program went well for a first-timer. Kelpy helped a lot, coming in
during commercial breaks to show her more functions of the terminal. Poppy signs off and
puts Kelpy in charge, who queues nonstop infomercials for the time being.
"You're the last program of the day, at six the morning show people come in and start doing
their thing. That's also when my shift ends. Do you have work today?"
"Yea, at 8. It's not too far from here, I can walk. Is it ok if I crash here, though?"
"I guess, but I can't cover for you in the morning, I've gotta go get my beauty sleep."
"Actually, I think I will just go home. It's not too too far. I'll see you around Kelpy."
"Of course, be safe getting back."
Poppy pedals through the night, passing people going about their lives. Hanover has a big
nocturnal population, so the city never sleeps. More accurately, half of it sleeps at any one
time. Cats and mice and owls and foxes and lizards and frogs wander, do their shopping, get
in and out of work. Poppy pedals by a nightclub, where some of the daysiders mingle with
the other half of the world. She debates going in, getting a drink, but decides not to. She
wonders, though, if any of the people here heard her show. She was proud of it, maybe
they'd be proud of her if they knew about it. Thoughts of fame went through Poppy's head
as she got herself ready for bed, and lingered while she tossed and turned trying to fall
asleep. She didn't go under until 4. She dreamed of sheep, wandering around an empty
room.
--- --- ---
