"Where am I?" intoned the frightened archaeologist, his vision impaired to total blindness, "why can't I see? Is anyone there?"
The archaeologist had been tasked with heading an expedition to the ancient ruins of a once great empire; remains of a civilization that was sprawling and massive, and yet so small—its creators could only see growth through expansion. The archaeologist was alone here, his colleagues having perished in the complex's impenetrable traps. Somehow, our hero survived. He fumbled helplessly in the dark hoping to find his flashlight. He grabbed a section of the wall to pull himself up when he heard the wall shift under his bodyweight.
Suddenly, a rumble shook the ground, debris fell from all around, and a single ray of sunlight from the clear sky above shot through the ancient stone and ruin, illuminating a small recessed glass dome, the light glinting off of the ancient crystal like the light from a distant star.
"We are here" boomed a voice out of the deep and dark gloom. The voice seemed heavy and confident, loud and proud, and gurgled with a rolling rasp like a person who had years of tobacco filtered into their lungs. It had an inhuman quality to it; as the voice spoke, the room seemed to hum and click with a new cacophony of sounds.
The archaeologist was baffled and flabbergasted; he was not expecting this.
"Wh- who are you?" asked the archaeologist, "be you friend or foe?"
"We are friend to all" the voice boomed in return. The room filled with the sounds of humming and chimes, "We are the alpha and omega and all matter in between. So long as you have made a contribution to your local NPR station, we will continue to service you as well." There was a momentary pause in the voice—it seemed to be thinking, plotting, calculating.
The voice boomed once more: "Please identify yourself, caller; we are on the air".
The archaeologist stuttered in thought, what is going on? Why hadn't the previous expeditions mentioned this entity? He remembered the voice's request: "Er, Dr. Parnsley Speck". This was not his name, but in his excitement and confusion, the archaeologist forgot his name.
"Good to have you on Parnsley," exclaimed the voice, its voice changing in ways inperceptible, "Okay Carl, who will Parnsley be playing for tonight?" The voice once again shifted, becoming deeper and slightly slower, "Dr. Speck will be playing for Amanda Sothers from Indianapolis." The voice changed back, "Okay then, Parns-" The voice was cut off.
The archaeologist stood up in the dusty room. What was the voice? Where did it come from? Why was it here? What was its purpose? He searched the room in hopes to find what triggered the voice but to no avail. Whatever it was, it was now extinguished forever.