A Crisp Tuning
A sudden static hum crackled through my chest, and I found myself standing upright beneath hanging streamers. I tested my fingers—smooth, deliberate, and entirely under my command. Behind my back, I subtly turned the miniature vintage microphone cane in my grasp. The tiny device clicked softly against my palm, sending a warm, resonant shudder through the quiet air. Splendid. The broadcast has officially begun, and I am in splendid form.
