Daniel Alarcon - Lost City Radio

Norma cringed. They were on the fifth or sixth take. The actor had Shakespearean training, or so his résumé claimed. Each time he finished, he looked up hopefully at Len, who looked at Elmer, who shook his head. Next take. Norma took her headphones off and sighed. Elmer let the smoke filter from his open mouth. He looked bored. His brown suit was worn to a dull sheen at the knees and elbows. Victor seemed to be enjoying himself though, laughing and even correcting the actor when he mispronounced a word. Now, with her headphones off, Norma felt the true absurdity of it: the actor dove into another take, looking down intently at his text, reading soundlessly behind the glass. Halfway through, Elmer was already shaking his head no. Len tapped the feckless actor on the shoulder. The man put his paper down, and left the sound booth, dejected. Victor laughed.

“The promo’s on in thirty,” called Elmer on the intercom after the actor had been shown out. Len clapped twice. Victor had been told not to touch anything, but he’d never seen a place like this, and obviously his own curiosity was strangling him. He interrupted a few takes by pushing the wrong button. He apologized, everyone except the actor laughed, and then a few minutes later, Norma caught Victor staring at another blinking light, as if daring himself to touch it.

“It’s like a helicopter,” he’d said over and over when they first showed him in. He’d seen them floating in the skies above the village, he said. Drug eradication programs, Norma supposed. He’d drawn a picture and asked his teacher what they were. “There’s an Indian word for it, but I wanted to know the real word.”

“What was the Indian word?”

Victor thought for a moment. “I can’t remember,” he said.

Now the boy played. She could see it in his eyes: the station was a chopper, this control room speeding around the nation, over valleys and rivers, along its coastline and over its deserts. She was dreaming with the boy, and it made her happy to see him distracted. He seemed suddenly young for his age — or was it only that yesterday he had seemed so old?

Len tuned in the station. A commercial for detergent faded out, the sounds of children playing. They all settled in to listen. There was a crackle as it began, then the plaintive sound of a violin emerging from a low, gravelly rumble. The voice-over began:

This Sunday on Lost City Radio…From the jungle comes a boy…To tell a story you won’t believe…It will touch your heart…Bring you to tears…Bring you joy and hope…Hear the harrowing tale of his journey…By foot to the city…And the dreams that brought him here…Can Norma help him find his loved ones…? This Sunday, on a very special Lost City Radio…

Here the violin gave way to nature sounds, birds chirping, water bubbling steadily over smooth stones, and then, the boy’s trembling voice, saying simply: “My name is Victor.”

Len clapped. Victor beamed.

“Bravo!” said Elmer. “Norma?”

“It’s fine,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Are you kidding? He did it in one take! The boy’s a natural.”

Victor fiddled with a knob on the console, and a wave of sound streamed from the speakers, then disappeared. They all turned to the boy. “I didn’t walk,” he said.

“Of course you didn’t walk.” Elmer scratched his forehead and lit another cigarette.

Norma stood up and pushed her chair to a corner of the small control room. “It’s not even possible, is it?”

“It sounds fine,” said Len.

Elmer cleared his throat and sent the boy out with the promise of food just beyond the door. Victor rose without complaint. Len turned the volume down and followed the boy out. The door swung closed behind them.

“What’s wrong, Norma?” Elmer asked once they were alone. There was a low buzz from the speakers, like the sound of a balloon deflating. Elmer ran his fingers through his hair. Norma didn’t say anything right away. He loosed his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. “Talk,” he said. “I’m listening.”

“I’m tired.” Norma slumped back into her chair. “I’m no good at this. He woke up crying this morning.”

“Children cry, Norma. What can you do?”

“That’s it exactly. I don’t know.” She bit her lip. Rey used to cry the same way, used to wake up in a sweat, a fever, a fit. Those nightmares.

“This show bothers you?” Elmer said. He pulled off his suit jacket and draped it over the console, burying the little red lights.

“He didn’t walk, Elmer. And we can’t send him back. We can’t trick him.”

“Norma, you know how this works.”

“Promise me.” She looked him in the eye. In spite of it all, he had a kind face, round and pudgy, an almost featureless softness to it. When he smiled, as he did now, his cheeks bulged, his eyes shrank to a squint. He’d aged, but they’d been friends. Once, on a day when her sadness had been so profound she could scarcely speak, Norma had even allowed him to kiss her. It was after the prison, when everything was lost. This was years ago and so far in the past she could barely remember it.

“I’ll try,” Elmer said.

“Thank you.”

He stood up, fumbled through his pockets for a cigarette. “What will you do with him?” he asked. “Does he talk?”

“A bit,” Norma said. “He seems nice enough.”

“Careful he doesn’t steal anything.”

Norma smiled. “What is there to steal? You don’t pay me enough.”

“Complain to the government, not to me,” said Elmer, cigarette dangling from his lips. “I can’t do anything, Norma, you know that.” He offered her a smoke, but she shook her head.

“Let me look for his people,” she said. “I’ll take the list and go.”

Elmer looked up. “Why?”

“He ran off last night. Got off the bus and ran into a neighborhood down by The Cantonment. Can you imagine how scared he must be?”

“He didn’t seem scared in here.”

“Elmer, you’re not even listening to me. He woke up screaming this morning.”

They were quiet for a moment. Elmer scratched his head. “What did I promise you? A day off?”

“Two.”

“Have you looked at the list?”

“No,” she said. “Have you?”

“Haven’t had time.” He sighed. “We have nothing on these people, you know? Not even districts. Just names. I could guess that they’re scattered somewhere in Newtown, but beyond that, who knows?”

The city was an unknowable thing, sprawling and impenetrably dense, but there were nearly sixty names on the list, and some of them must be alive.

“I’ll have to run it by legal, of course. Vet all the names first,” he said.

“Of course.”

They were interrupted by a rap at the window. Victor had entered the recording booth through the side door. Len stood behind him. The boy waved. Elmer and Norma waved back.

Elmer pressed the intercom button. “How you doing there, kiddo?”

Victor grinned. Len gave a thumbs-up. His voice crackled back a few moments later. “He wants to know when we can leave.”

Elmer smiled at Norma and hit the intercom. “Where does he want to go?”

The boy gave a soundless answer, and then Len was back on: “Every-where. He says he wants to go everywhere.”

“Isn’t that something?” Elmer said to Norma.

“It’s great.” She could see the boy was happy. “It’s wonderful.”

“It’s progress,” Elmer said. “Go on, Norma. Do what you want. It’s not what I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’m not sure exactly. I’m tired of seeing you sad. That’s all. I thought this might be good for you. You’ve been in a rut.”

“It’s not like giving me a puppy, Elmer. He’s a child.”