Voices on the Wind Voices of Protest
Servile air by Lars Samson Few people remember “dead” air. When infant TV and adolescent radio paused in the early mornings. Giving air a breather. Some TV channels still screamed at us and targeted our screens in traceable crosshairs. Others shook our boxes — rustling gray sand over monitors, so nothing could be seen. Cranking up the hissing, so none would watch for free. Airwaves no longer get time or holidays off — more full-time serfs of the American Nightmare. Enriching pockets of prosperity by feeding us dreams or fears. Squeezed into phones, slapped on walls, and implanted in an appliance near you. Few people remember silence. Some try to mimic it — tuning in unsold frequencies, so eyes can close. And ears can get as close to it as they understand.