TSP01
[Date: Nov/30/24]
[Cycle: SNOW PRIME]
[Barista: Peppermint]
[Subject: Business as Unusual]
[File Reference: TSP01]
Man—is this Diner or Cafe material? I’m leaning Diner. It fits, given the world we’re in, right? Eh, Sunshine’ll sort it out in the Archives if it’s not filed properly anyway. Oh, speaking of her—she’s fine now! Just had to acclimate to… whatever the hell this is. Hollywood, I guess. But not our Hollywood. This is Hollywood, Universal—Capital of the U.M.N.—the United Majors of the North.
Seems like in this Cycle, North America’s chopped up into just eight states: Universal, Walter, Elias, North Warner, South Warner, Sony, Goldwyn, and Paramount. Sunshine calls it “Snow Prime.”
And sensory assault doesn’t even begin to cover it. Towering screens and holograms claw for dominance like rabid pigeons in a breadcrumb storm. Ads layered over ads—what to eat, what to wear, and most importantly, what to watch. And watch. And watch. It’s endless. People live-stream their every second like it’s some kind of competitive sport.
And the glitches. Devil man, the glitches. The omnipresent broadcasts freeze mid-frame, crackle with static, and then…something slips through. I caught one during President Eisner’s speech last night. His mouth kept moving, but for a moment, the audio didn’t match. Instead, a voice said: “Truth lies beyond the frames. Tune in.”
Vanilla called it “anomalous interstitial encoding” or some other techy nonsense. Me? I just know when something’s off. And this Cycle? It stinks of off. The kicker? Last night, I was flipping channels while waiting for Sunshine to wake up. Just killing time, right? Figured a TV world would have something worth watching. But as I surfed, the screen flickered to static—not the regular white-noise kind. The weird kind. The Snow kind. And then, crystal clear, a voice said:
"Find the signal. Midnight. Channel Zero."
So—looks like we’ve got a channel to watch with a bit of comfort food.