WE WERE ALONE IN THE GROUP TEXT THE OTHER NIGHT AS YOU WERE DELVING INTO AN ARCHIVE OF THE LATE ART BELL, WHOSE PARANOID RAMBLINGS AS THE HOST OF COAST TO COAST HAD SCORED SO MANY OF MY SLEEPLESS NIGHTS. AND AS I MIGHT HAVE SAID DURING OUR NOCTURNAL BACK AND FORTH, THERE ARE MORE SHOCKING SOPORIFICS ON THE AIR, BUT NONE WITH QUITE THE DEMOCRATIC TEXTURE OF BELL’S CALL-IN COLLAGE—HIS SINISTER LIBERTARIAN THESIS OF ABSOLUTE DISTRUST DISTRIBUTED ACROSS SO MANY VOICES THAT IT EVADES ATTRIBUTION ALTOGETHER. THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE, A POPULAR SLOGAN INSISTS; BUT AT SUCH DISTANCE FROM ANY APPREHENDING BEING THAT IT MIGHT AS WELL BE RELATIVE. THIS TRANSFERENTIAL CANVASSING OF SPACE, OR POPULAR OPINION, SEEMS CLOSELY RELATED TO THE PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY THAT BELL, LESS SO HIS SUCCESSOR, FORMALIZES. AS LONG AS THE POINT IS HEARD, IT HARDLY MATTERS WHO SPEAKS IT.

BECAUSE RADIO DOES SEEM AN APPROPRIATE VEHICLE FOR DESPERATE SPECULATION ON UNCERTAINTY, INDEFINITELY ONE-SIDED. HAVE YOU READ ABOUT THE ARECIBO MESSAGE? IT’S THE LONELIEST PROGRAM I CAN THINK OF, TRANSMITTED IN THE 1970S FROM AN OBSERVATORY IN PUERTO RICO AND INTENDED TO ATTRACT THE ATTENTION OF AN UNVERIFIED EXTRATERRESTRIAL INTELLIGENCE. THE MESSAGE INCLUDES EARTH’S COORDINATES IN THE SOLAR SYSTEM, ATOMIC NUMBERS FOR THE ELEMENTS OF DNA, EVEN A BIPEDAL STICK FIGURE, CRUDELY PIXELATED. DIRECTED AT THE STAR CLUSTER M13, THIS INFORMATIONAL CARE PACKAGE IS SET TO ARRIVE IN NEARLY 25,000 YEARS, BY WHICH TIME ITS DESTINATION WILL HAVE MOVED ANYWAY.

COAST TO COAST ALWAYS FELT LIKE AN ONGOING AND MASSIVELY DISTRIBUTED INTERACTIVE EVENT, SUCH THAT IT WASN’T SO IMPORTANT THAT ONE LISTEN, ONLY THAT ONE TUNE IN. MY HALF-ATTENTION WOULD AWAIT THE HIGHLIGHTS: ACCOUNTS OF NEO-BIBLICAL VISITATIONS FROM AFAR, SPECULATION AS TO THE ARCANE SYMBOLISM OF CROP CIRCLES, CRYPTOZOOLOGICAL ELUCIDATIONS; BARELY CONCEALED OVERTURES OF GAY AND RACIAL PANIC. EVEN SO, SOMETHING CHANGED FOR ME AS THE AMBIENT PARANOIA OF THE NIGHTLY COLLOQUY GAVE WAY TO MORE FORTHRIGHTLY LURID FAR-RIGHT POLITICKING. YESTERDAY WE HAD DISCUSSED CONSPIRACISM AS A MISPLACED INTIMATION OF TOTALITY, AND I AGREE WITH YOUR DIAGNOSIS. I DO NOT WRITE THIS TO REMIND YOU OF YOUR OWN WORDS, NOR TO PUT MINE IN YOUR MOUTH, BUT FOR THE BENEFIT OF A PROSPECTIVE READER – LIKE THE MAN BEHIND THE MICROPHONE, I ASPIRE FOR OUR CONVERSATION TO BE OVERHEARD.

ONE NIGHT WHEN I WAS TWELVE, I SAW A UFO. I WAS WITH MY FRIEND MICHAEL AND HIS PARENTS, WHO WERE DRIVING DOWN A NARROW ACCESS ROAD IN NORTH ONTARIO, WHEN WE SAW A GLOWING GREEN DISK PASS BELOW THE TREE LINE AHEAD AND ERUPT IN RADIANCE. FOR A MOMENT IT WAS BRIGHT AS DAY, THEN DIMLY SHIMMERING, THEN DARK. WE PULLED OVER IN COLLECTIVE AWE AND WAITED FOR FURTHER DEVELOPMENTS. NOTHING ELSE HAPPENED, AND BY THE TIME WE REACHED THEIR CABIN IN THE WOODS I ALREADY FELT PROTECTIVE OF MY OWN INTERPRETATION. I CULTIVATED THIS STORY FOR YEARS UNTIL I MET SOMEONE WHO’D HAD THE SAME EXPERIENCE, WHO REFERRED ME TO A WIDELY DOCUMENTED METEOROLOGICAL EVENT VISIBLE IN THAT PART OF THE WORLD ON THAT SAME WEEKEND, AND THE MEMORY DIMINISHED IN BOTH VIVIDNESS AND RELEVANCE. FOR ME, EVENTS ARE CONSUMMATED IN THEIR EXPLANATION. I DON’T HAVE A SENSE OF NATURAL WONDER.

DON’T KEEP ME WAITING.