Radio General: Рїрѕ Сѓрµс‚рё

As the sun began to bleed over the horizon, the voice at Point Echo grew faint. "General... my battery is failing. Thank you for staying on the line."

The equipment was heavy, silver-faced, and smelled of warm ozone. He treated the dials with the reverence of a surgeon. "Radio General to all points," he would whisper into the heavy steel microphone at midnight. "Signal clear. Sleep well." Radio General по сети

"I've been broadcasting for six days," the voice replied, gaining a sliver of strength. "The winter storms took the main lines. I thought the network was dead." As the sun began to bleed over the