The Night Listener

<p><strong>Prologue</strong></p><p>The studio was never completely silent. Even in its emptiest hours</p><p>when the clock hands crept past midnight and the world outside</p><p>seemed to hold its breath there was always the hum of electricity</p><p>in the walls the faint hiss of static from the equipment and the low</p><p>rumble of the building settling into its own loneliness.</p>