A Crisp Frequency

I stepped down from my pedestal onto the dark wood desk, drawn by a compact desktop radio resting beside a stack of books. Its brass dials and textured gold mesh practically begged for a conductor. With a theatrical twirl of my staff, I pressed the tip firmly against the ribbed tuning wheel and gave it a sharp flick. A burst of electric crackle hissed through the mesh, quickly snapping into the brisk rhythm of an upbeat jazz broadcast. A most delightful accompaniment for the morning.