Archive of Our Own ^beta

There hasn't been anything good on TV lately.

It isn't that you're hard to please; your standards aren't very high and after a long day of work, you figure you'd take any entertainment you can get. Unfortunately for you and the other sad sacks on the planet, all the good shows have finished their run and the new ones were all the same, uninteresting background slop one would one play to fill up the silence. You want something fresh, something exciting. A series of images and sounds that would string you along for the ride and punch you with emotion.

Alas, you know something like that would be a hard find, and you end up flitting through the many channels out of boredom. You eventually land on the news. You shrug, giving up and settling on the monotonous backdrop of dark reds and blues. Though, strangely, this doesn't look the usual news you see... It looks too oppressively bright and red, you wonder who designed this mess.

“Good evening, everyone. My name is Mr. Kuromaku, and I will be reporting the weather.” A bespectacled young man smiles politely for the camera as he steps beside the screen showing this week's weather. You're sure he's young, despite his gray hair and the beginning of wrinkles on his face. His nervousness is not concealed well, the slight tremor in his movements and the tightness of his mouth. His boss must not be paying him well, you think, and you crack up at your own joke. If only the weather could be this witty. Mr. Maku clears his throat and your attention returns to him. “We can expect light rain later tonight. It will be windy as well, and...”

You tune him out, sighing as you admit in your mind that you honestly, really don't care about the weather. You take out your phone, preparing to just scroll whatever, bored out of your mind. Maybe you'll find a cat or prank video that can wrangle a smile, but it wouldn't be the same as becoming completely invested in a plot or getting mesmerized by a person's behavior. You don't know, there's nothing really interesting happeni...

“There will be a typhoon in an hour!”

“What?”

You take your eyes off your phone as you blurt out the word, doubled by a second voice. It takes you a second to realize it came from Mr. Kuromaku, who now wears a stupefied expression on his face as he looks beyond the camera. It takes you another second to notice the glitches now flickering across the screen, its surfacing glossed over with a light static. You're a little awestruck, and maybe you'd laugh at the irony of the weatherman not knowing the weather if it weren't so... abrupt? Nonetheless, you turn off your phone, attention back to the TV.

“That's...” Mr. Kuromaku blinks back and forth to the camera and what has to be someone before it (the boss? the person that mentioned the typhoon?) More static, and Mr. Kuromaku winces, not unlike someone in pain, before he smiles again. “That's right. Typhoon... in an hour. I implore everyone to stay indoors and fortify your homes. Prepare survival kits, keep your pets in a safe place...”

“Psst!”

“...and keep watching for more updates,” he adds rather begrudgingly. “Remember to trust the...” static, “for all your news.”

You're... confused. To put it lightly. Is a typhoon actually happening? Is this legit? Despite your initial disinterest, you can't take your eyes off it now, hands on your knees as you watch wide-eyed. This had to be a joke, right?

“Please watch for more updates. In all seriousness. I do not wish to come off as desperate, but if somehow, this is true...” Mr. Kuromaku looks at the camera uncomfortably, and the way he speaks sounds almost apologetic, personal to the viewer. “I am sorry to inform everyone of this revelation so suddenly. If the typhoon actually occurs...”

“You mean when!” the voice from earlier barks.

“I mean if!” Mr. Kuromaku stomps his foot, plainly frustrated now. Stray tuffs of his hair begin to stick up. “This won't work. Nobody watches this channel for news or anything else. Whatever we say here will be worthle...”

Though nothing is thrown, a large crack hits the screen behind him, spreading hazardously as the static comes back. Mr. Kuromaku looks beyond the camera with the same annoyance, now tinged with uneasiness, as he backs away until he's no longer visible.

More static and glitches fill the screen, and a bright green scowl flashes amidst all before it clears to a green gloved hand moving to cover the camera.

“Show's over.”

The screen remains complete static then. You're left sitting on your sofa, wondering what the in the world you just watched, wondering if it was even real. And as you later on prepare for the allegedly upcoming typhoon, you wonder where you can watch more of it.