CHAPTER 3

"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 runs the bike shop 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. Theres 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 2 hours from midnight to 2. 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 work! 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."

"2 Answers, 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 darn factory."

"Real, real answer?"

"Dying a forgotten nobody scares the hell out of me."

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 looks like he just had the greatest idea ever. "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."

"Why, are they broken?"

"Yea, I can feel it starting to get weaker. It'll last me another few weeks, I think. Big paycheck coming in from overtime"

"Be careful, ok hun?" Fig looks really worried, and Poppy sort of understands why. She's not really known for taking risks and trying new things like this, at least not since college. Life was too short to try and fail over and over.

"Of course."


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The studio is tiny, the whole building may not be bigger than a convenience store. In the dim of the night Poppy struggles to find a place to chain up her bike, eventually settling for a fencepost. "107.9, WWAK, The 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. 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 can call me poppy, she/her. Thank you so much for letting me try this, I've always wanted to try radio!"

"It's fun, sort of. Come on, I'll show you inside the building." Kelpy fumbles through a giant keyring, eventually finding one with a red rubber tip on the end. It puts the key into the front door and turns, propping it open. "Also, if I were you I'd take the bike in. 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 building is ancient, probably built in the 70's. 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 both the night technician, engineer and DJ. The last host quit a week ago and doing everything myself has been a nightmare. If I teach you, 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 great, she's never here. The only time I saw 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 a hallway 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 monitor 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 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 tomorrow. 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 a blue light near the ceiling "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?" Its on the wall, next to the blue light, caked in cobwebs.

"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. Any questions?"

"Yea, 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 two minutes!' 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 forum 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 in a 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 station 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, I'm sorry if it sounds like I'm scared. First up is Sammy Breck, 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 playback before turning on her mic again.

"That was something from Sammy Brecks'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 2 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 was that song? "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 4 or 5 songs that fit the first one pretty well, and queues them up after commercial. She'll let 2 play, then talk for a bit, then let another 2 play, then more commercials. She likes this, it's like making a playlist in real time, improvisational philosophy.


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eventually 2 o'clock comes around, and Poppy is drained. Aside from a few times she left the microphone on, her program was pretty well put together. 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 muzak until 6 AM.

"You're the last program of the day, at 6 the morning show people come in and start doing their thing. That's also when my shift ends. Do you have work tomorrow?"

"Yea, at 8. It's not too far from here, I can walk. Is it ok if I crash here, though?"

"Sure, 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 talk to you later 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 dayside animals mingle with the other side 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 if they knew about it. Thoughts of fame went through Poppy's head as she got herself ready for bed, and stayed 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.


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