Channel Sk1n Read Online Free Page B

It must have been on the whole time, just some trouble with the reception, that was all. Faulty signals.
    The mother was screaming, shouting. The father’s head was bowed down; the children in shock, saddened.
    Nola gazed at this spectacle in some kind of relief, she could not explain why. Her own fingernails were pressing hard into her palms, modelled on the father’s actions.
    His hands in close-up,
    nails digging into flesh.
    Nola’s own hands.
    The pain was good, and she felt the sudden gulping rush of a media high, old-school style, the pre-digital needle to the heart. And behind that, a nagging doubt, a fear.
    Unnameable as yet, unknown.
    That taste in the mouth.
    Skin tingles all over.
    Skullbuzz.
    Nola stood and walked through into the kitchen area, turning on the overhead strip-light. She poured herself a glass of water and drank it down with two aspirins.
    Powder on the tongue. Ice-cold liquid.
    Shiver of contact.
    Her fingertips burned.
    Mouth fuzzy.
    Feeling bad.
    Supposed to be working today.
    How was she supposed to...
    Headache.
    No matter what she did.
    Strange.
    She steadied herself, grabbing hold of the kitchen counter.
    The room lost focus.
    Click.
    Back in place.
    Maybe it was time, maybe go to the doctor.
    Soon.
    Yes. Talk to Christina about it.
    Maybe.
    Click.
    Room blur.
    Click.
    Clear once more, every detail of sink and countertop and cooker sharp, real, overly real.
    Nola walked back into the living area.
    The wall-screen played on.
    Commercial break. Some minor celebrity figure dashing through a house of treasures, speaking of facts, numbers, units sold, usages thereof, the life sparkle, the one hundred different usages of this one, brilliant product. Images of switches being pulled, buttons pressed, a child’s face all smile, all need, all shining pink happiness. The product itself unseen, only talked about, only fantasised over. Now the logo, the final line:
    Purchase now, before your friends do.
    Be the first! Become the subject of discussion at work and in the home!
    Yes.
    All is good.
    The Bliss Machine lives on.
    Here we are gathered...
    A presenter spoke in reverent tones of programmes to come, all the mystical pleasure to be viewed and reviewed later on this day, into the night, next week, oh such delight to be accessed at your leisure, when and where you wish!
    Nola sat down. She heard secret prayers, the chatter decoded.
    Dearest viewers,
    Here we meet on each side of the glass
    To sizzle and purge
    and plug our souls in.
    To lick the screen for static
    To burn our eyes with dazzle.
    Daily, nightly, twenty-four seven
    Week upon week
    Life-long
    We will download, upload
    and drown ourselves gleefully
    At the electric well
    Of glitter,
    Of poison and moonshine.
    Why not join us?
    Nola found the remote.
    Click.
    Gone. All silent, all blank.
    She leant back on the couch. Maybe grab a snack. Need for sugar.
    Shhszzsssssss...
    What?
    Noise.
    What was that?
    Tingle dizzy.
    Moment of.
    Blur.
    Something wrong. Something is wrong.
    The noise again, quieter now.
    ...shhzzhsshsss...
    She stopped. Held herself still, alert.
    The skull hum?
    No, not that. This was different.
    The screen, maybe?
    No, still turned off. Definitely turned off.
    So listen. Listen now...
    Shhhhhshs.
    There.
    There it was. Slightly louder now.
    Shhhhszss...shszts...sshskjszsss...
    Words?
    Listen!
    No. Not words, not as yet, and not even a whisper. Only a murmuring or a faint hissing sound that seemed to come from a slightly different direction each time she moved her head.
    Nola closed her eyes, concentrated.
    Was it a voice? Was it somebody speaking?
    Sth...sh...ha...t...he...mho...istu...shn...
    Somebody trying to speak? A child perhaps? A young boy?
    Nola could not tell for sure.
    She felt a tingling sensation on her abdomen, which she scratched at without really thinking, her fingers digging in under her shirt. The skin felt warm and sticky.
    What?
    Fingers searching, pressing.
    What in the hell is that?
    She leaned back