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Long hours pass before I feel able to turn the radio on again. I don’t know what is incapacitating me, but I have a hunch that the radiation circulating inside this glass cubicle is affecting my brain.

Last night I managed to sleep a little longer than usual. That was because I lay down a little earlier than usual. I try to respect the circadian cycle, but the fact that there is no distinction whatsoever, however faint, between night and day, makes the task exceedingly difficult. To know whether it is day, I tell myself it is not night, and only in that way do I distinguish when the sun rises and when the sun sets. I could say, “I’m going to watch the sunrise of the sunset”, and I would not be committing any inaccuracy.

Today the radio is producing an imperceptible noise. More imperceptible than the one it usually puts out. I’m afraid there may be a source of electromagnetic interference responsible for what’s happening. I’m searching, with a portable SDR and a telescopic antenna connected through an SMA connector, for the source of this imperceptibility. I want to try to soften and weaken this interference, because it’s as if it were draining the life out of me.

I found a rheostat in the corner of the radio room, beside the non-existent skirting board, that I had never seen before. I tried to turn it to the right, but it was at its limit. I tried to turn it to the left, but the resistance it offered was proportional to the fatigue I was feeling. At last, I felt that resistance fade away, and I could see, if only for a few brief moments, that the light flooding the radio room had dropped a tone. And then, another half-tone. Finally, I turned the rheostat counter-clockwise, until darkness fell.

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