I memorised the numbers, and deleted the picture on my phone. I'm getting a bit paranoid, I know something is up as there were no listeners at any of the desks when I arrived. The librarian watched me come in today, she's never even noticed me before and now I could feel her eyes boring at me. I'd kept my cans in my bag, but it was if she were staring at them regardless.
I tucked myself in at the end of a stack, out of sight and with one eye on the front desk and with varied means of escape. The broadcast was coming I knew, the chatter the head phones picked up was just talk, conversations dialled in through the atmospherics of the library somehow. I knew the RFID coil had something to do with it too along with the dewey decimal number. Together all these parts, along with perhaps the very heating and electrical system of the library enabled you to, (in some crazy clandestine Netflix narrative style) to dial in.
At 9.14 it began, the broadcast was quite clear and obviously, there was no preamble, no segway or chatter, this was stand alone. The first words were simple, but they struck me, and resonated to the core, it began with the last bars of Gill Scott-Heron, The revolution will not be televised.
You will not have to worry about a germ on your Bedroom
a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl
The revolution will not go better with Coke
The revolution will not fight the germs that cause bad breath
The revolution WILL put you in the driver's seat
The revolution will not be televised
WILL not be televised, WILL NOT BE TELEVISED
The revolution will be no re-run brothers
The revolution will be live
A second voice then began.
Thank you for dialling in, for our friends across continents and behind boarders, in libraries, in war zones, in mobile homes, in sleepy towns, in basement apartments, in public bandstands. Once you have the dewey code, dial in and listen out, for
But at that moment I felt a hand on my shoulder and behind me the librarian straddled by two security guards. . . . .