Breaker Whiskey – Détails, épisodes et analyse

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Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

It took me the better part of a day but I think I’ve done it. I think I’ve written out your whole message. It…I honestly have no idea what it says. I was so focused on the individual letters, barely any words formed from it as I went.

I…I should go get Harry. But she’s sleeping and…I think she needs the rest. After—we’re still working through things and I think—no, I know—we will be for a very long time. As we waited for your message to finish transmitting, we talked a lot. We maybe got a little…distracted from time to time, but she put it all out on the table, everything she’d been thinking and feeling that she didn’t tell me. Things she didn’t even write in her notebook. And I told her things…we aired grievances and shared the times when we thought we might get close to something, back in New York. She talked about how she felt about Pete and listened to me when I talked about him and…and she was really kind when I couldn’t parse the good from the bad, when I didn’t want to just write him off as a violent criminal. I mean, I don’t…well, there are a lot of things I need to work through and it doesn’t all have to do with Harry.  

Well. I could fill you in on all of it, on every detail, but…these broadcasts have been mine, separate from Harry, as much as anything in my life can be separate from Harry, and there are some things with her that are separate from the world. At least for now. 

I know I said I might stop transmitting now that we’re safe and I think…I think I am going to take a break. Disappear for a little while like you’re so fond of doing. I’m—well, I think I’m happy and I’m not totally sure what to do with that feeling. Especially since it’s laced with…well, Junior is still out there, we’re still trapped here and even though I know what it’s like to kiss her, to— I don’t think I’ve forgiven Harry yet, not fully. She knows that, she…she’s understanding of it. Genuinely. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try to get there. Especially since I know I haven’t been the paragon of healthy communication and perfect relationship behavior so there are things that I need to…that I need her forgiveness on and, well, I think she wants to try to get there too. 

All that said—well, I don’t know what I’m going to find in your message and I hope it’s not goodbye forever, but maybe this is a goodbye for now. I want only good things for you Birdie. I hope you get a little peace of mind. A little closure. I’m discovering eve the tiniest glimpse of it really does wonders. 

Okay. Here we go. 

“Dear Whiskey, 

I am sorry that we couldn’t meet. You find yourself in a watch tower of my own creation. I wasn’t positive it would still be functioning in this timeline—you never do know when an earthquake or a storm is going to cause something to come toppling down—but I’m relieved to find that it is. I do wish I could have been there myself, but we can only enter timelines through great pains and effort and I have already interfered far more than we are meant to. Though I suppose my hand was forced when I ceased to be the only one communicating with you.

The person you know as Fox is, as you guessed, a purist. They want all people in all places to be instead in one place, following one path. They do not believe that anyone should be free to make their own choices and live with the consequences. They would prefer to guide your hand into another choice you cannot take back, all in service of what they deem to be correct. They know what they are; they even told you directly. Though they are not the figment of an author’s imagination, they are as close to Eternity as one can get. Though in this case, they are not the norm, but a rebel.

And I cannot claim there is nothing to re—rebel against. It is not a perfect system. It is hard, to watch people suffer in the worlds of their own creation, with no obvious recourse. Sometimes these timelines correct themselves, merging with each other or disappearing entirely. But even we, the keepers and observers of these strands, cannot fully comprehend the intricacies of why certain shifts are created. 

As you know, you are not the first person for whom I have tried to bring comfort in a lonely universe. Not all alternate worlds are as empty as yours, but some are even emptier. And yours, was of course, becoming more empty all the time, though that may not be a bad thing for every person involved. 

Fox told you you’re too late because the timeline has shifted once again. I’ll explain that in a moment but first I need to talk about the shift that preceded it, that caused an angry man to seek vengeance. A few months ago, Fred Billings’ mother—“

Fred. That’s his name. Fred. Wow, I, uh—anyway—

“Fred Billings’ mother, who was her—who was here, vanished from this place and merged with her correct timeline. Both Fred and his father perished in a car accident on New Year’s Eve 1974, and the widow Billings’ life was forever changed. Fred woke up here one day to find that his mother—who he had lived with in some degree of contentment for the last six years—had vanished. Meanwhile, she was waking up in the place she was from, with no memory of this world. 

That’s what would have happened if you had killed Junior. Or, at least, that is what Fox and I both suspected. That it would have aligned enough with the timeline of your origin and you would’ve been sent back. But you should know, if that were to happen, all of this would seem like a strange dream. Your memories of the last seven years would be filled with the experience of that other you. The events you’ve experienced here would not inform your life. I have not brought you here to keep you from making that decision for yourself, but because I thought you deserved to have all the information relevant to what Fox was asking you to do. They forced my hand when they told you to kill Fred—I could not let you do that without knowing the full consequences. 

However, it is a moot point. As I said, something in the timeline has shifted again. You have merged—you have merged with another offshoot, your circumstances have once again changed. I wish I could give you the information that would help you navigate this new world—I wish I knew if this meant more potential allies or if this meant that you were closer to getting back home than you were before. But we cannot see all. Fox has their ways of seeing more than most, but I suspect even they are uncertain of what this shift has brought. 

I do know that yours and Harry’s fates are irreversibly intertwined. I cannot think of a decision on any timeline that would separate you as you are now. In that sense, I take comfort in knowing you will never be truly alone. 

On that subject, I have a final gift for you. I know you are going to cease transmitting soon. And I understand that, I do. But before you go silent, look at the radio system in front of you—“

…okay… 

“Turn it on and tune to the very last frequency. Then switch on the delta tune to the positive and access the off-frequency just beyond that final channel. 

Through some error that I know my superiors would like to correct, your transmissions have been reaching out—have been reaching outside of your world. In the same way that visions of the world you came from have bled into where you are now—” The polaroids I’m guessing— “your words have reached beyond their usual bounds. It is why they were able to reach your friends from across the country and after a year of listening to you, I have yet to figure out why this is happening at all.

Perhaps now that you are no longer alone, you don’t need this particular comfort. But you have spent all this time calling into the dark, hoping someone was listening, hoping someone would call back. Hoping that someone out there would find you. 

You were found a long time ago. You were never really lost or alone. Many of them were alone, before they heard your voice. But the moment you called out, there were voices calling back, even if you couldn’t hear them. 

Your friend, 
Birdie”

What…I don’t…I don’t understand—

Okay, tune to the last frequency…let’s see

[turning to the frequency]

“You were found a long time ago”…Who found—

[gets to the last frequency and then—

a cacophony of different voices, all the messages that Whiskey has not been receiving, from infinite timelines]

(an intake of breath)

Oh my god.

[static]

[click]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Sorry it’s been a few days, Birdie—we spent a little time sightseeing. Now that Harry is out and about, she seems very keen on seeing whatever she can. I won’t tell you exactly what we saw, but it was a national park and it was breathtaking. 

Speaking of not saying things…you told me not to say things aloud—I’m assuming things in response to your messages—and then you said, very worryingly “You have gun too. Received.”

I’d been hoping that was some kind of error on your part, but even as an error it doesn’t make any sense. I received that message from Fox, but just like I told Fox, I don’t have a gun anymore, considering I had to abandon my car and everything in it. And, for what it’s worth, I haven’t picked another one up. Harry wants us too—lord knows we’ve passed enough places that stock them—but I don’t see the point, not when I’m still no good at hunting. I definitely don’t have any plans to use it on anything but a wild animal. And I’m sure as shit not teaching Harry how to shoot and if there’s one thing stupider than having a gun in the first place, it’s having a gun around someone who doesn’t know how to use one. 

So what exactly are you trying to tell me? You gave me numbers, numbers that I’m fairly certain are the first part of coordinates, but I’m going to need a lot more than that. I—

[a knock on the door]

Hold on, I think that’s Harry. 

[click, static for a while]

[click]

Alright, sorry about that but, uh, well, I think we’ve figured it out? Or Harry figured it out. You were trying to tell me the date that that message was received. Same thing as with the letter date. You’re giving me more numbers. Is that…is that right?

If this is all going to be dates, than I’m going to assume the year isn’t part of it. It’d be strange to have one-nine-seven-five or seven-four in multiple different places in coordinates. When I do have all the numbers, I guess I’ll figure out the hours, minutes, and seconds. I’m at least assuming you’re giving it to me in order, and I think it’s safe to say that we’re looking at the general northwest quadrant of the country. But correct me on any of that if I’m wrong. 

Thankfully, I know the date for this one too, given I write down every morse code message I get. And don’t worry, I won’t say it on here, but I I’m fairly certain I’m right. I guess you’ll just have to trust me. 

[click, static]

[beeps]

.--. .. -.-. -.- . -.. / -.-. .. - .-. ..- ... / ..-. .-. ..- .. -

Picked citrus fruit

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

“You are the stone”. 

[click, static]

Does that? Does that mean what I think it means? That…that all of this—what the world is now, the lack of people, Leann—are you trying to tell me its all my fault?

How could—how does that even work? If—if this really is about something I did…I mean, fuck, I don’t know what to do with that. Even though it’s something I’ve thought about, something I’ve worried about, I never actually believed I had that kind of power. 

Is it…is it because of…?

[click, static]

Jesus, why am I asking you? I haven’t even told you what I—

Wait, okay, if I’m the stone, I’m the one who made a ripple that somehow dragged Leann into all of this, then how do you fit into this, huh?

And by you I mean both you morse code lunatics. Are you connected to me somehow? I mean, you must be, right? Except you seem to know what’s going on here, even if you won’t tell me, so are you…

I mean, are you—

(laughing)

[click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

“There are others. Some connected, some not”. That’s what you said. 

[click, static]

Fuck, why am I still listening to you? You and Birdie both, you know just how to play me, know when to give me just enough tantalizing information that I find myself sitting by the radio, just waiting for your next transmission. 

It’s…(laughs) I’ve had this completely out there thought every now and then that you—one of you—is actually Harry after all. I don’t know if it’s just because she’s now my only reference point for people that aren’t me, or if it’s the psychological mind games, but there are just some moments…

It’s ridiculous, I know it is. Not only because of the information that you’ve both given me—I mean, some of it might be crap, stuff that Harry could’ve made up, but the coordinates sure as shit were real. It’s not just that though, it’s that…

I don’t think Harry is that cruel. She liked to play with emotions, that’s for sure and certain, but she wouldn’t…she wouldn’t get my hopes up like this, over and over again. Or, I mean, she did do exactly that a lot over the last fucking decade but—

Harry wants there to be other people just as much as I do. She might not admit it, might be too scared of the potential consequences to go and seek answers out herself, but she doesn’t like living in this world anymore than I do. She just…she’s just convinced herself that it’s penance. That being trapped with me, forced to look at me every single day but never—

[click, static]

You know, that’s what she said to me in that last big fight? One of the things she said anyway. That it was torture, for her. Sharing a space with me, orbiting around each other like planets on a collision course. But it was karmic justice, that she would have to be in the gravity well of the one person who has the best reason to never want to speak to her again if she told the truth. 

And, of course, she was right about some of it. I didn’t want to speak to her after she told me the truth. Especially since I’d finally told her the truth, the full truth that’s made every day since I met her a kind of slow burning agony—

[click, static]

Anyway. Harry wouldn’t mess with me, not in this way. She wouldn’t give me false hope, not when she’s holding onto her own with bloody fingers. 

So maybe if I can figure out the cause, the—the stone that caused the ripple for lack of a better way of putting it—maybe then I can figure out where those waves might have gone. And maybe on the other side of that ripple is other people. 

[click, static]

[beeps]

You are the stone

-.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / - .... . / ... - --- -. .

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Okay, this sucks. 

[click, static]

Not talking about where I’ve been driving…it sucks. I want to talk about what I’m seeing, the landscapes, the funny town names, the strange roadside attractions. But I worry that if I do, I’ll easily give myself away and then…

Well, I’m not sure what I expect the worst case scenario to be, but I’m getting…paranoid again. A bit how I was when we first escaped. A bit how Harry always is. 

I did find something today that I don’t think would give away much, because I’m sure this isn’t the only one that exists but…it’s a tiny little church. Like, tiny tiny. Basically just an altar and enough room for a few people to stand. What on earth is this for? The world’s smallest parish? Private prayer? They’re certainly not filling the pews on Sunday, there aren’t any pews. 

It’s overgrown, like everything else, and it’s even more lovely because of it. Like it's not a house of worship for god, but for nature. As small as it can be so as not to intrude on the free landscape around it. 

I have very rarely thought about what my imaginary wedding would be like, mostly because, well, I never really thought I’d have one. Not only for the obvious reasons, the, you know, legal reasons, but because even if it was allowed, or we just wanted to do it for us, fuck whatever the law or the church says…I don’t know that I ever really thought I’d find someone for life. And then, when I did meet somebody who—

Well, there were other problems, weren’t there?

But if I were to have a wedding ceremony, even just for the hell of it, I certainly never would have picked a church. But I think I could see a wedding happening here. A tiny white chapel, surrounded by green, just big enough for the people you trust the most. Pocket-sized and private. 

It’s a silly thought. I doubt they ever had weddings at this chapel. Most people want a lot of people at their weddings, a big celebrations. This church couldn’t hold all of that. 

[click, static]

I just want to be able to share this with someone. For finding the other survivors to finally become easy. For there to be others to find. 

[click, static]

[beeps]

There are others. Some connected, some not.

- .... . .-. . / .- .-. . / --- - .... . .-. ... .-.-.- / ... --- -- . / -.-. --- -. -. . -.-. - . -.. --..-- / ... --- -- . / -. --- - .-.-.-

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

I feel a little bit like I can breath again, being back on the road. Even though I never slept in Leann’s house, I spent a lot of time in there, at all hours of the day, and it got…oppressive. Even after days of the windows being open, fresh cold air coming in, it still…

Well, I’m happy to be out of there. 

[click, static]

I think I can safely say that ghosts aren’t real. Or at least, Leann’s ghost was nowhere to be seen. I’m glad that her…spirit or whatever it might be isn’t stuck here, but it really doesn’t help me understand what the deal is with Este’s Park or the Denver photos. 

The Denver polaroids…I keep looking at them, trying to find more anomalies, trying to make out the finer features of the faces, but nothing reveals itself. They just start to look odder and odder the longer I look at them. Like everyone is…wearing a costume, or something. Like everything is just slightly off. 

They still don’t seem like ghosts. It feels more like…looking through a window, into somewhere else. Standing in the doorway of Dorothy’s home, all sepia-toned and shadowy, and looking out into the colorful world of Oz. Except I can’t step through. I’m just stuck inside. 

Maybe the camera is revealing something I can’t get to. Maybe…maybe I really am dead after all, behind some veil that makes me invisible to the living world. Maybe the man I saw in Estes Park wasn’t a ghost at all, but a living man, surprised to see me, a ghostly figure in his otherwise normal hotel room. 

[click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

I know I said I wasn’t listening anymore, but you’re the one who knew Leann existed in the first place so…not that I’m going to take your word for it, but:

If I understand what you’re telling me…Leann was just collateral damage of some bigger ripple. Which, yeah, thanks for stating the obvious. Clearly something bigger than all of us happened and we’re the suckers that got hit by the waves. So does that mean that everyone else…drowned?

Leann didn’t do anything, she’s not connected…and all I can think is that I am connected. Is that what you’re trying to say?

Not every ripple affects every pond in the world. Obviously, some things are big enough to destroy everything, the meteor killing the dinosaurs. But maybe…maybe it’s not about everyone being bowled over by a wave, but about certain people in a certain pond…not connected directly but swimming in the same soup…maybe those people are all here because of some rock that got thrown into that pond. 

Jesus, that makes no fucking sense. And even if it did make sense, it wouldn’t help me figure out what the fuck pond I’m in. 

[click, static]

I am heading out today. Getting away from North Dakota, leaving Leann in peace. I don’t think…I don’t think I’ll be telling you where I’m going. If anyone out there—any other survivors, real human beings who want to talk to other human beings—if any of you hear this, tell me where to meet you and I’ll drive to you. But I don’t think I’m going to be detailing my own movements, at least for a while. All of this…none of it feels right. I’m not taking any chances that aren’t necessary, not anymore. 

[click, static]

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

There’s nothing for me here. All I’m accomplishing by staying is intruding on Leann’s privacy and making myself lonelier. 

I don’t believe in the afterlife. Or, at least, I haven’t as a general rule. But Leann did. She believed in God, believed that dying was just an inevitable next step in a long journey. Toward the end, she welcomed death, even if she was beginning to have doubts about where she was ultimately headed. 

I think it’s unavoidable, in circumstances like ours. Thinking of hell, I mean. Whether you truly believe in it or not. I didn’t read all her final entries over the radio, it didn’t feel right when…well, I don’t know if it was a fever or if everything just finally got to her, but her last words didn’t make a whole lot of sense. I felt strange enough reading them, I wasn’t about to broadcast it. 

But it was obvious where she thought she was going next. And that makes me so…she didn’t deserve to go out thinking that. To die alone, so full of fear. No matter what kind of person she was. 

Not that there’s any evidence to suggest she was anything other than a good person. But she wondered this plenty, and I can’t help myself from wondering either—

What did she do? To find herself here, in this terrible hollow shell of a world. 

What did you do, Leann?

[click, static]

[beeps]

[click, static]

L did nothing. Not connected. Ripple big.

.-.. / -.. .. -.. / -. --- - .... .. -. --. .-.-.- / -. --- - / -.-. --- -. -. . -.-. - . -.. .-.-.- / .-. .. .--. .--. .-.. . / -... .. --. .-.-.-

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

“September 12th, 1974. I am not well. The last few years have been harder on my body than I ever expected, but I’ve made it through, against all odds. But it seems to finally be taking its toll. 

I do not know what it is that ails me, but I know it is serious. I am faint and weak, and though I have no appetite whatsoever, I do my best to feed myself. But it becomes harder and harder each day. Writing just these few sentences has already taken more energy than I can fathom, but I have to finish these thoughts before they flee my mind forever.  

I’m coming home, Harry. It is my deepest and last wish that I should see you again, but there is a secret fear inside of me that I won’t. I know where you are. You went into the arms of the Lord in Heaven above when you went to your eternal rest and it was always my plan and solemn vow that I would join you there one day. 

But what kind of loving God would do all of this to a devoted servant? Why would He leave me here without you, without our girls, without a friendly face in the world, if not to punish me for something I’ve done. I once thought that this was a test, a trial to show my strength and devotion to the Lord, but there is no glory in the death that stands in my  doorway now. I do not feel like a martyr upon the cross. More like a sinner cast onto coals. 

What have I done to deserve this hell? There’s a rattle in my lungs and a fog in my head most moments I am awake, but I think it is the loneliness that is killing me once and for all. I’m so sorry, my love, I tried to be strong for you, to be brave, but I cannot bear it any longer. 

If I have failed in my test, I am sorry for it. But I have to think that hell is full, and warm, and that that might be better than this place.

[click, static]