Breaker Whiskey
BREAKER WHISKEY is an ongoing, daily microfiction podcast exploring one woman’s journey to find additional survivors in an America made empty by an unknown event in the late 1960s. In 1968, two women find themselves in rural Pennsylvania during what turns out to be some kind of apocalyptic event. By the time they discover that everyone else is gone, it’s too late to figure out what happened. Despite not liking each other at all, the women work together to survive, until six years later one of them sets out on her own, driving around the country to find other survivors. This is her, calling out to anyone who might listen. BREAKER WHISKEY is made by Lauren Shippen and recorded on a 1976 Midland CB Radio. It releases daily, Monday through Friday. If you would like the entire week's episodes as one single download, released on Monday, you can support the show at patreon.com/breakerwhiskey or by becoming an Atypical Plus supporter at atypicalartists.co/support. Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey.
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263 - Two Hundred Sixty Three
11/20/2024
263 - Two Hundred Sixty Three
A response to Passerine. Please visit for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit . If you'd like to send Whiskey a message, ---- [TRANSCRIPT] Breaker breaker. This is whiskey calling out for Passerine. I think-I hope I'm pronouncing that correctly. I read your message out the other day. I don't know if you heard it. I recorded it and then set it to repeat, so hopefully you caught it. I just figured I didn't want to respond to your message and have you not hear it. So I hoped that in reading your message out loud, you would know that I was going to respond and stay tuned in. I don't know. I don't know how any of this works. So anyway, hopefully you are listening and hopefully I said that name correctly, Passerine. I don't know that I'm familiar with that particular type of bird, but I like a theme. You're definitely right in that I have had a year. Sometimes if I think about it too much, it doesn't seem real. It doesn't seem like all of those things happened in a 12 month period, especially when compared to the previous six years. I didn't know life could be that full. Maybe full is the wrong word because obviously I was alone for pretty much all of it. But eventful. And different, right? Just different. That's what I wanted and that's what I got and.. I wanted to not feel so alone and...to your point- talking to you helped me with that feeling. So did Donnie of course. I think about him every single day. It was easier- it was easier to miss him. To miss Richie and Pete and Sylvie and Francis and Martha and everyone else...it was easy to miss them when I thought there was nothing I could do, when I thought that the whole world had just gone mad and any help I could have provided, was way too late. So it hurts worse now. The fact that he's gone. Because I was in a position to help him, to protect him. And I...I failed. [static] And you're right, Passerine. Some days I do want to run away?. And wrap myself in that darkness. And today is one of those days I... Harry said something, made some joke and...I don't know. It just set me off, you know? It was like for a second I could hear the echo of what Don would have said had he been there, because even though it wasn't perfect between all of us, we did, you know, we had a rhythm and and Harry would say something and then Richie would say something, and Don would come in with the punch line, or Harry and Richie would be arguing and Don would mediate and-- or lean over to me and make a joke, just the two of us. And this was one of those moments where there should have been another beat, right? I said something. Harry said something, and then... And he wasn't there. He just - he just wasn't there. I still heard his voice. Still imagined what he would have said. It's not like that's the first time that's happened, right, in the last seven years. Like, Harry and I have had plenty of times where we feel the specter of the people that we lost around us. But it's worse now. [static] Sorry, I didn't mean to make a response to your message about this. I just, I wanted to follow your advice. You know, in feeling that feeling of wanting to run into the darkness, turning here instead to talk to you. I wanted to. I wanted to do that. [static] And I'm glad I could be a reminder for you. I don't know why you feel lonely or if you are literally alone. You didn't tell me much about you, but I'm glad if I eased some of that feeling a little bit. It's weird to think about. It's strange to think about being a part of people's lives when I don't know those people, you know? I mean, that's part of life no matter what, right? he person behind you in line gives you that last quarter that you need to buy coffee and they make your day okay. And you think about them and remember their face and they don't really think about you, right? They did a nice thing and it didn't really cost them much, but it made an impact on you. Things like that happen all the time, happen every day in a place like New York City, where most of the people you're interacting with on any given day are complete strangers that you'll probably never see again. So it's not like I haven't always been a supporting character in people's stories and vice versa. But well, you know, there's the whole being a part of people's lives when those people's lives are occurring in different timelines thing which is still hard to wrap my mind around, but I can't think about too long or my head because I'll wobbly. But, even beyond that, I don't- I don't know what your face looks like. I don't even know your real name. And granted, you don't know my real name, not my full name. But you know my voice. You know things about my life, about my mind, about my heart. And the most wild thing is that all of that means something to you. It means something to you that I have feelings and that I've shared what's happened to me and that I continue to share what's happening to me now and that... Sometimes I think, why does anyone care? But then I think, gosh, I mean, if I had someone to listen to on the radio who knew things that I didn't and had lived life that I hadn't lived, I'd wanna listen to them too, just for some entertainment. At this point, I'm pretty sure I know everything about Harry that I ever will know. Well, that's not true. But, you know, seven years of someone...You kinda hear all their stories at least once. Anyway. I feel like I'm repeating my stories and my thoughts. But, it still just blows me away. That people care. That people think I'm brave. You're right. The true loneliness is being unknown. And I hope you do break out of that. I really do, because. It is such a cage, isn't it? To feel like no one knows you. And sometimes I wonder with Harry if I'm opening that door and walking into that cage myself over and over again. Because she knows me. Of course she knows me. But even now, even now that she knows the truth of my feelings, sometimes I get afraid of her seeing me. Of her knowing me in my heart of hearts. And I want to hide. I want to run away and...who does that serve? So this is my promise to you, Passerine. I will keep calling out. I will not run into the darkness. And I will try to let myself be known. I hope the same for you. Whiskey out.
/episode/index/show/5da72b94-5220-42fb-8e82-3254e84b6fe8/id/33837017
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From Passerine (Listener Message)
11/13/2024
From Passerine (Listener Message)
Please visit for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit . If you'd like to send Whiskey a message, --- [TRANSCRIPT] Hey Whiskey Call me Passerine. Figured I'd keep with the bird theme that's going on around here. I've been seeing these messages coming through for a while now, but only recently did I take the time to actually sit down and hear. And, wow. What a year you have had. From visiting all of these beautiful places, to the danger of being chased, and all the heartache that Harry has brought you, I'm so glad you chose to call out to us. Some days I wish I had the bravery to do that, to call out to the world and let them know what the inside of my heart looks like. Or, well, to just go up to the people around me and just let them see the outside. I feel like even in a timeline where I'm surrounded with people, the loneliness still gets to me. I don't think you understand just how brave you are, to fight through that loneliness, to tell the world, and Harry, what it is that you feel. I think sometimes true loneliness is being unknown. I don't know how to break out of that. I'm so glad that you aren't alone anymore, even though I know some days you'll probably feel it again. Some days you're going to want to run away into the wilderness, and wrap yourself in the comfort of darkness, and just stay where no one can see or hear you. But I think this past year has shown that you're strong enough to fight that urge. And hey, if you're ever feeling that way, like that loneliness is creeping up on you, you know what to do. Turn on that radio, and tell us everything. We'll be here for you. You're never alone. And I think that's what I'm most grateful for. You've reminded me again that I don't have to be alone. Thanks Whiskey. This has been Passerine, over and out.
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262 - Two Hundred Sixty Two
10/23/2024
262 - Two Hundred Sixty Two
A response to Red. Please visit for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit . If you'd like to send Whiskey a message, ------ [TRANSCRIPT] Well, hi there, Red. It's good to hear from you. It's strange to hear from you, to talk to you, to talk to anybody, which I know you understand. I haven't been ignoring your transmissions if you really have been sending them for this long. I—I just really haven't heard anything until now. And it’s..hard to think about. You know, when when we first got here and I switched on the radio and turned it to the channel that Birdie told me to, it was such a gift, hearing all those voices. But it was also hard. To think that so many people have been calling out and I just hadn’t… [static] It's something I've struggled with. I did…I needed time to breathe and to figure out what to do next, to figure out things with Harry. And, well, I'm not necessarily any closer on any of those things, but it's been good, I think, to step back a little bit. But I did feel bad. You know, I felt bad leaving people behind just when I finally found them. But then I thought, well, who do I respond to? How do I respond? How do I know that in all of the frequencies and all of the transmissions coming from all these different timelines, how can I make sure I hear from the people that I want to hear from? The next transmission you send, Red, if you send another one, how am I going to be sure that I can can hear it and document it? We've got the radio running all day, every day and are absolutely burning through tape recording it when one of us isn't there. I know we're going to run out at some point and… Harry says I'm not responsible for the world, but hearing you talk what you've been through the last seven years…the loneliness. Missing the sun. I'm glad that I was able to bring some color, some light back into your life, but I just can't help thinking, where are you? Are you here? Are you somewhere else? Are you somewhere that I can get to? Birdie said that things shifted again and I still don't know how. Still haven't seen any sign of what's different. But to think that you and I could merge our disparate timelines. Our isolated little personal purgatories could somehow join up down the line, I don't know. I don't know how we would know or how we would find one another. I guess if there's anything that you can tell me specifically about the world that you're in now…maybe that'll help narrow things down a little. I don't know. [static] But I'm glad I finally heard you. And I hope you hear this. I hope you know that I wasn't ignoring you. I've been listening. I've been trying to listen for so long. Also you should know that I got a real crack out of you assigning colors to everybody. It sounds like you nailed them, too. I mean, Pete being money green is… [static] And I did get a good chuckle out of you picking a color that you didn't like very much for Harry. I mean, that's probably what I would have done too. But if it makes you feel any better about things, I think she liked the idea of a yellow-orange. You know, because she's a painter too she thinks about colors differently. There is no ugly color to her. It's all possibility. Anyway, Red, I hope…I hope your loneliness abates a little bit in the way that mine has. Being with Harry hasn't felt that void. Not entirely. I don't know that anything can or will unless we can find our way back, but it has helped. Being honest with her has helped. So I hope wherever you are that you're safe and that I can add more colors to your palette in the future. Whiskey out. [static]
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From Red (Listener Message)
10/16/2024
From Red (Listener Message)
Please visit for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit . If you'd like to send Whiskey a message, ------ [TRANSCRIPT] Hello Whiskey. Ohh, that feels weird. Like… sending a message to your best friend but… also to a celebrity that has no idea you exist. I must sound a little crazy. And maybe I am. You’d probably go a little crazy down here, too. Anyway, I don’t think I’ve actually gone crazy, pretty sure I read somewhere that if you’re still able to think about whether or not you are, then you aren’t. I think therefore I am not crazy? I don’t know. I don’t think any of my transmissions are getting through, anyway. Or maybe they are and you’re just… ignoring them. That… that hurts more, I think. Knowing that someone else is out there and they don’t want to talk to you. Or maybe they’re getting trapped somewhere between here and the surface. I don’t think it’s because they sound crazy or anything – I listened back to them to be sure. That was weird, hearing my own voice. The sound was… foreign. A stranger. I know your voice better than my own, now. I could pick it out of thousands of radio signals. Couldn’t even recognize my own played back to me. But then it’s not like I’ve had much to say these past… seven years? I think it’s been seven. I stopped counting the days a while ago. Just got… depressing. All those… plain white concrete walls covered in tally marks. (Cheering) But now my walls look beautiful. I’ve been transcribing everything you’ve said – I have tapes of every broadcast, and I’ve written down every word. Pasted them up on my walls. And I haven’t used my paints in years – even… even before all of this, but… they needed a little colour. I started by making my own notes in red, and then your locations in green, for the landscape, and Birdie’s messages in blue. Like a bluebird. And all the people you talked about - Don’s rust, Richie’s yellow, Pete’s green – not like the landscape, but like… money. Like the colour that I remember money being, at least. And Harry was… well. I had decided her colour back when I thought she had hurt you – and she had, of course, but I mean… back when I thought she did it for the sake of it. So I gave her this… yellow-orange colour. And knowing what I know now, I feel… a little bad about that. I wish I’d given her a prettier one. But maybe she would like it. It’s not terrible. Sort of a… sunny orange. Like the colour that I remember the sun being, at least. Anyway, every… every rainbow needs some sun, right? And their names… they make a rainbow. (Tearing up) You brought that rainbow back into my life, Whiskey. Seven years of white walls, and now there’s colour. Seven years of silence, and you bring back sound. Seven years of isolation and desolation and hopelessness… and you bring back… me. You mentioned liking Rothko, back on… (checks) transmission 179. I mean, I’m no Rothko, obviously, but… I suppose he won’t mind if I take a little inspiration from him So Whiskey… you can call me ‘Red’.
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261 - Two Hundred Sixty One
10/02/2024
261 - Two Hundred Sixty One
Please visit for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit . If you'd like to send Whiskey a message, ------ [TRANSCRIPT] Breaker, breaker, this is whiskey calling out to one and all. [click, static] Hi, everybody. I know it's been a minute. I’m—I'm weirdly nervous talking to you now. Now that I know that people are listening. Now that I know that people across infinite timelines are listening, it's a lot of pressure. I feel like I have a little inkling of what Jean Shepard would have felt getting on the radio every night, except I actually think I probably have more listeners than Jean, which yeah, I actually can't think about that very much or I will get even more nervous. [static] As an update because some of you have seemed curious— we’re doing good, I think. Not too much has changed since my last transmission. We're still where we were, although I think we're going to have to head down the mountain soon. The weather is changing and I don't think we want to be here when the snow comes. Well, when the snow really comes, there is already snow because we're that high up. But we can't survive a winter here, not with how thin these walls are. As for where we go next, I don't know. I know I probably won't be telling you. Not because I don't want you guys to know, but because. Well, you know, people may be listening and I don't want to invite any more trouble than I already am inclined to do, just living my life. [static] Harry and I are good for the most part. I mean, we've had a few blow up, knock down, drag out fights. Well, you know, a dozen, maybe. Nothing— nothing earth shattering, just the usual. Although now we have a a different mode of conflict resolution, by which I mean we actually make attempts at conflict resolution now and in a way that I think is very productive. Maybe not talking things out as much as we should, but I don't think either of us can complain. So. Yeah, we're. We're okay. Not much else to report. Not much has changed. Haven't heard from Birdie or from Fox since that last big transmission, but I have been hearing from a lot of you. We spend most of our days sifting through all the different messages we get. Some of them are like this, and a lot of them are Morse code, which I don't think either of us were expecting necessarily. But it's nice to have somebody else with me to translate the Morse code. One of you…one of you sent a morse code message asking if this was real. You said it was a cool project and that that threw me because does that mean that somehow you, whoever you were that send that message, you're back in the normal world and this was coming through on your normal radio and you thought, hey, maybe there's another Orson Welles joint or something of that kind. Does this sound like a story to you? Like I'm just an actor pretending to be somebody stuck somewhere. I—I’m glad that you thought it was cool. In any case, I don't know that I would categorize it that way because it's my life, but yeah. Yeah, it’s real. [static]
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Signing off, for now
07/19/2024
Signing off, for now
atypicalartists.co/breakerwhiskey
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260 - Two Hundred Sixty
07/19/2024
260 - Two Hundred Sixty
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] It took me the better part of a day but I think I’ve done it. I think I’ve written out your whole message. It…I honestly have no idea what it says. I was so focused on the individual letters, barely any words formed from it as I went. I…I should go get Harry. But she’s sleeping and…I think she needs the rest. After—we’re still working through things and I think—no, I know—we will be for a very long time. As we waited for your message to finish transmitting, we talked a lot. We maybe got a little…distracted from time to time, but she put it all out on the table, everything she’d been thinking and feeling that she didn’t tell me. Things she didn’t even write in her notebook. And I told her things…we aired grievances and shared the times when we thought we might get close to something, back in New York. She talked about how she felt about Pete and listened to me when I talked about him and…and she was really kind when I couldn’t parse the good from the bad, when I didn’t want to just write him off as a violent criminal. I mean, I don’t…well, there are a lot of things I need to work through and it doesn’t all have to do with Harry. Well. I could fill you in on all of it, on every detail, but…these broadcasts have been mine, separate from Harry, as much as anything in my life can be separate from Harry, and there are some things with her that are separate from the world. At least for now. I know I said I might stop transmitting now that we’re safe and I think…I think I am going to take a break. Disappear for a little while like you’re so fond of doing. I’m—well, I think I’m happy and I’m not totally sure what to do with that feeling. Especially since it’s laced with…well, Junior is still out there, we’re still trapped here and even though I know what it’s like to kiss her, to— I don’t think I’ve forgiven Harry yet, not fully. She knows that, she…she’s understanding of it. Genuinely. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try to get there. Especially since I know I haven’t been the paragon of healthy communication and perfect relationship behavior so there are things that I need to…that I need her forgiveness on and, well, I think she wants to try to get there too. All that said—well, I don’t know what I’m going to find in your message and I hope it’s not goodbye forever, but maybe this is a goodbye for now. I want only good things for you Birdie. I hope you get a little peace of mind. A little closure. I’m discovering eve the tiniest glimpse of it really does wonders. Okay. Here we go. “Dear Whiskey, I am sorry that we couldn’t meet. You find yourself in a watch tower of my own creation. I wasn’t positive it would still be functioning in this timeline—you never do know when an earthquake or a storm is going to cause something to come toppling down—but I’m relieved to find that it is. I do wish I could have been there myself, but we can only enter timelines through great pains and effort and I have already interfered far more than we are meant to. Though I suppose my hand was forced when I ceased to be the only one communicating with you. The person you know as Fox is, as you guessed, a purist. They want all people in all places to be instead in one place, following one path. They do not believe that anyone should be free to make their own choices and live with the consequences. They would prefer to guide your hand into another choice you cannot take back, all in service of what they deem to be correct. They know what they are; they even told you directly. Though they are not the figment of an author’s imagination, they are as close to Eternity as one can get. Though in this case, they are not the norm, but a rebel. And I cannot claim there is nothing to re—rebel against. It is not a perfect system. It is hard, to watch people suffer in the worlds of their own creation, with no obvious recourse. Sometimes these timelines correct themselves, merging with each other or disappearing entirely. But even we, the keepers and observers of these strands, cannot fully comprehend the intricacies of why certain shifts are created. As you know, you are not the first person for whom I have tried to bring comfort in a lonely universe. Not all alternate worlds are as empty as yours, but some are even emptier. And yours, was of course, becoming more empty all the time, though that may not be a bad thing for every person involved. Fox told you you’re too late because the timeline has shifted once again. I’ll explain that in a moment but first I need to talk about the shift that preceded it, that caused an angry man to seek vengeance. A few months ago, Fred Billings’ mother—“ Fred. That’s his name. Fred. Wow, I, uh—anyway— “Fred Billings’ mother, who was her—who was here, vanished from this place and merged with her correct timeline. Both Fred and his father perished in a car accident on New Year’s Eve 1974, and the widow Billings’ life was forever changed. Fred woke up here one day to find that his mother—who he had lived with in some degree of contentment for the last six years—had vanished. Meanwhile, she was waking up in the place she was from, with no memory of this world. That’s what would have happened if you had killed Junior. Or, at least, that is what Fox and I both suspected. That it would have aligned enough with the timeline of your origin and you would’ve been sent back. But you should know, if that were to happen, all of this would seem like a strange dream. Your memories of the last seven years would be filled with the experience of that other you. The events you’ve experienced here would not inform your life. I have not brought you here to keep you from making that decision for yourself, but because I thought you deserved to have all the information relevant to what Fox was asking you to do. They forced my hand when they told you to kill Fred—I could not let you do that without knowing the full consequences. However, it is a moot point. As I said, something in the timeline has shifted again. You have merged—you have merged with another offshoot, your circumstances have once again changed. I wish I could give you the information that would help you navigate this new world—I wish I knew if this meant more potential allies or if this meant that you were closer to getting back home than you were before. But we cannot see all. Fox has their ways of seeing more than most, but I suspect even they are uncertain of what this shift has brought. I do know that yours and Harry’s fates are irreversibly intertwined. I cannot think of a decision on any timeline that would separate you as you are now. In that sense, I take comfort in knowing you will never be truly alone. On that subject, I have a final gift for you. I know you are going to cease transmitting soon. And I understand that, I do. But before you go silent, look at the radio system in front of you—“ …okay… “Turn it on and tune to the very last frequency. Then switch on the delta tune to the positive and access the off-frequency just beyond that final channel. Through some error that I know my superiors would like to correct, your transmissions have been reaching out—have been reaching outside of your world. In the same way that visions of the world you came from have bled into where you are now—” The polaroids I’m guessing— “your words have reached beyond their usual bounds. It is why they were able to reach your friends from across the country and after a year of listening to you, I have yet to figure out why this is happening at all. Perhaps now that you are no longer alone, you don’t need this particular comfort. But you have spent all this time calling into the dark, hoping someone was listening, hoping someone would call back. Hoping that someone out there would find you. You were found a long time ago. You were never really lost or alone. Many of them were alone, before they heard your voice. But the moment you called out, there were voices calling back, even if you couldn’t hear them. Your friend, Birdie” What…I don’t…I don’t understand— Okay, tune to the last frequency…let’s see [turning to the frequency] “You were found a long time ago”…Who found— [gets to the last frequency and then— a cacophony of different voices, all the messages that Whiskey has not been receiving, from infinite timelines] (an intake of breath) Oh my god. [static] [click]
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259 - Two Hundred Fifty Nine
07/18/2024
259 - Two Hundred Fifty Nine
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Well. We, uh, made up. I— [click, static] It’s not fixed, it’s not like everything is suddenly—there’s still a lot we need to… (clears throat) She—she came looking for me. I wasn’t even done transmitting and she well, it was a long conversation and I’m not sure how much I—But I think I can probably give you the highlights. She said she wouldn’t give up. That I could keep moving in whatever direction I want to and she would be right behind me. That she’d stay there until I wanted her next to me. That she— She told me that she wouldn’t ever stop loving me even if I decided I couldn’t forgive her. That she’d love me even if I chose to love someone else. That she wanted to watch me keep loving the world, in the hopes that it would help me love her again. (a small laugh) And that she wants me to shout at her whenever it seems like she’s forgetting that, whenever she starts to hold me too tightly. She wanted to start over. That’s the only thing she asked of me. That we could start fresh, get to know each other again, leave everything behind and try to…try to make something new, even if it’s just a friendship. Even if we’re still strangers two years from now. I told her no. I can’t start over. I won’t. I can’t forget what she’s told me, I can’t box away every contradictory feeling I’ve had for her. And I don’t know where that leaves us but I—in that moment, after hearing the last secret she had from me, that she loves me—I just decided, to hell with it, if this is—if she’s going to spent the next…who the hell knows how long, trying to get my forgiveness, my trust again, then I’m going into that with all the information I can and I—I kissed her. I didn’t…I didn’t expect anything from it. I just kissed her the once, not a prelude to anything, simple and earnest, but I just had to know. I’ve spent too much time, too many years, not knowing. And maybe it was unfair of me, to ask that of her without being able to promise the exact nature of the feelings behind it but she, uh, she didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t stop at kissing me once. And the moment she put her arms around me…(laughs) I had no hope. Passion is an emotion that can come from so many origin points and I don’t know if it was love or anger or some combination of what she brings out in me but…well, it turns out just shutting up and working out our issues in different ways is…not a bad idea. [a door opens behind Whiskey] So that’s where we—that’s where we are. (smiling) Um, and— [footsteps approaching] Well, I’m still not letting her broadcast on my frequencies, but she’s— (off mic) Yes, I have been talking about you and you know that— (on mic) Like I said, things aren’t fixed, but it’s—it feels like moving forward for the first time in a long time and— (distracted) And, um, well she’s been…it’s like a floodgate has opened and—(off mic, laughing) Harry, get off— [click, static] (breathless) Sorry, uh…maybe I should keep doing these by myself seeing as someone can’t keep their hands— [click, static] Jesus, sorry—I got on here for a reason, you know. Because, well, I finally got my wish. My other wish. Our date this morning. I don’t even know what to do with the length of this message. I can’t tell where it ends and begins but I’m going to—I’m going to try. I said I’d sit in front of the radio for hours and copy out morse code and I’m sticking to that promise. It really is nice having so many radios. I’m recording and it seems like it’s going to keep going for a little while so— (off mic, exasperated) Harry— [click, static] Yeah, okay, I’m gonna go— Signing off. [click, static]
/episode/index/show/5da72b94-5220-42fb-8e82-3254e84b6fe8/id/32016692
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258 - Two Hundred Fifty Eight
07/17/2024
258 - Two Hundred Fifty Eight
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] I could really use your dits and dashes right now, Birdie. I could really use anyone to talk to. Harry and I—well, all that growth and warming up and being more vulnerable…I guess I was lulled into a false sense of calm, because things finally…I didn’t think we had more to say to each other, but I guess we did. It was you…it was you saying “our date”. Can you believe that? All of this time, everything that’s happened, and it was a little jealousy over a person I question is real half the time that finally tipped Harry over. And, you know, I’d been suspecting that she was jealous of you but…Jesus. When I told her about your message, I guess—well, I was happy! I am happy, I’m looking forward to hearing what you have to say. But she—she read something into it because she asked me if I’m in love with you. Which is just… Don’t take this the wrong way, Birdie, but that’s absurd to me. I’m grateful for you—more than I think I can ever fully express—and I hope that I’ve brought…well, something to what sounds like your fairly complicated existence, but I don’t know you. Not really. I know that you’re caring, and regretful, and scared—I know enough to consider you a friend and to want to really get to know you and cement that friendship. But I don’t know you like I… I don’t know all the different kinds of laughs you have—the one when you’re being polite, when you think someone is being stupid, when you actually find something hilarious but don’t want to admit it, when you’re embarrassed or flattered, and the one that’s just genuine joy. I don’t know if you have any scars or birthmarks or that you broke your arm falling off a bike when you were eleven and haven’t ever really ridden a bike since. I don’t know the names of your parents or if you have siblings, or what you would spend your perfect day doing. And it’s not just…the minutiae, it’s…I wouldn’t recognize you in a crowd. I can listen to any song and not have it remind me of you. I can wake up and not have you be the first thing on my mind. I didn’t—I didn’t say all that, but I told Harry she was crazy, which, well, was the wrong thing to say because she…she blew up at me. She said that she’s felt this before, that she knows what it’s like to be on the outside when I’m on the inside with someone. That that’s what it’s always like with— I know—I know that you can’t ever really know what someone is experiencing. How a person sees the same events that you’re both going through. But I’d—I’d really had no idea that Harry felt so left out all the time. That my friendship with the guys put her on the outs. That the easy way I had of being with everyone we ever met—with Sissy and K and Francis and Sylvie—how the way that I liked everyone and everyone liked me felt like she was always standing in front of a locked door. And that I was doing that now, that Birdie is my person and that Harry just gets the scraps of both. I…well, it put some things into context I guess. She’s selfish, possessive, resentful of the fact that she had to share me with all of New York and now she has to share me with the world. She hates the fact that I spent all that time not talking to her and then started telling every inner thought and private secret to anyone who could listen. She’s jealous of you and she’s jealous of my radio. And I’m not—that’s not me calling her selfish or possessive or any of that. That’s how she put it. Her exact words. And what does she want me to do with that? I—I didn’t say anything. I just walked away and came back up here. After all, it’s her turn to be the one left holding the emotional bag. I know she’s listening right now. I know she’s gone down to the little visitor center and turned on her radio because I know she knows that the first thing I’d do is get on here and talk to you. Talk to the void. Except it was never the void, was it? All this time, I left to find people, to hope I’d have someone else to talk to, and I was just talking right to Harry all the while. And that’s the real truth of it. So I might as well talk straight to her right now. Sometimes I was so happy that we were the only two people in the entire universe. And then you told me what you did and I found myself wishing that I’d drive out into the world and find it full of people and then come back home to tell you and you…wouldn’t be there anymore. And I’d realize that it had all been some weird illusion, or dream, or nervous breakdown and that the whole time I’d been holed up with you, the world kept turning and it was you that wasn’t there. That you were somewhere else entirely, somewhere I’d never be able to reach. Somewhere beyond my control. I’d fantasize that I didn’t have to look for you anymore, because that’s what I was always doing. Back in New York, back in the world, I would look for you in every room. Any party I ever went to, any museum, it didn’t matter if you weren’t supposed to be there, if you weren’t invited, any time I went into a new place, I’d turn and hope you’d be there. Every time you weren’t was a tiny heartbreak and every time you were was even worse. And there would be a tiny, pinprick moment when I’d just get to look at you, take you in, see you out of the context of us—laughing at someone else’s joke, rolling your eyes at an art critic, sneaking another piece of cake…it would be a split second where I’d get to observe you exactly as you are without me and then it’d be over because you’d somehow know I was there and you’d look over and we’d lock eyes and then…then nothing. You would look away, or I would, and eventually we’d wander into each other’s orbits, but you never came straight to me. And then we lived together—we lived in the same house for six years, each other’s only company and I was still looking for you. I would still relish every moment that I was in a room without you realizing I was there and every time you’d eventually notice and you wouldn’t…you might say something, maybe, but you wouldn’t look back for long. You wouldn’t chase me. You never chased me. Not until now. And that’s the grand irony of all of this, isn’t it? I kept looking for you and the moment I left, the moment I stopped looking, you started. And try as I might, I was never really speaking to anyone but you. Even when I talked to Birdie or Fox or was just trying to speak to anyone—anyone who could hear, it was…I was always just trying to talk to you. I spent months hoping it was you, that we’d be able to say through morse code what we never could say out loud. And now you tell me it isn’t enough? That you still want more of me, that you want all of me, leaving nothing left for anyone else and I—I can’t do that. The part of me that can forgive you—however small it might be at times—that’s the part of me that wants to talk to anyone who would listen. That wants to like everyone she meets. That has wanted to be in the world. You can’t take that part of me away and still have…me. I can’t just be made up of the parts that you shaped. There has to be more of me, because I don’t think you’d want me otherwise. I stand by what I said almost eighteen months ago—we can’t move forward if you keep caging us in. I’m going to keep moving forward and I’m not going to look back to see if you’re following. I loved you, Harry. I did. I still lo— But I can’t keep looking for you. It’s your turn. [a door opens behind Whiskey] [click, static]
/episode/index/show/5da72b94-5220-42fb-8e82-3254e84b6fe8/id/32016662
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257 - Two Hundred Fifty Seven
07/16/2024
257 - Two Hundred Fifty Seven
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] This place is…extraordinary. I woke up with the sunrise this morning and it was breathtaking. It’s so…quiet. I mean, it’s not actually that quiet, the sounds of the wind and the creaking trees and whatever wildlife is out here—oh, and I found the rifle, which I guess is good in case any of that wildlife deciding to come to our door but they’d have to get up the stairs first. I guess this means I am teaching Harry how to shoot after all. Maybe I’ll finally learn to hunt. But—those sounds aside, the natural sounds, it’s peaceful. Being in cities now is eerie—they’re quiet but it isn’t right. This place was so untouched by people to begin with that it feels right. It gives me the same feeling I got in Wyoming all those months ago. Except, this time, I’m not trying to forget about Harry, because I very much can’t forget about her. Last night—well, it doesn’t matter that it’s July, the nights still get fucking freezing this high up. But, as you know, there’s a cast iron stove in the watchtower, and there’s still a whole pile of wood underneath the stairs, so we had that going all night. And I guess we both were still too cold because somehow, in the course of the night, we both ended up with our blankets and pillows in front of the stove. Between the fire and the shared warmth, I slept…well, I slept really well for the first time in a long time. It’s not that I’ve never woken up next to her before. When we were first on the run, we couldn’t afford to be out of each other’s sight for too long. But this was—this was different. It's the first time there’s been nothing between us—no secrets, no lies, no games. Harry has been different these last few weeks and it’s like I was getting so used to being around her again, and all the mixed up feelings that that brought up, that I didn’t even notice until now. But the way she did eventually go along with what I wanted to do, the way that she admitted that coming here was a good idea… She isn’t just surrendering, telling me what I want to hear. I know what that’s like, I’ve lived with that version of Harry for months. After she told me the truth, she tried to…change. Become some version of herself that she thought I could forgive, being easy and agreeable and giving me space and consideration and I fucking hated it. That’s not what she’s doing now. She’s just…thawing. She’s letting herself be vulnerable. She’s letting herself be wrong. I’m starting to feel like maybe she doesn’t just want my forgiveness to make her life easier, but because she is genuinely remorseful about everything. Maybe in the end that distinction doesn’t mean anything, but it matters to me. And it matters—it matters that she was trying to protect me in her own roundabout way even if I wish she’d just come to me when she found out about Pete— (sigh) My head is so loud. If we’re really safe from prying eyes here…I might stop transmitting for a while after our date on Thursday. I’m…I’m tired. Waking up so peaceful and safe and warm this morning…it all hit me, this huge wave of exhaustion. I’m so tired of being angry. I’m tired of being scared. And I think taking some time after we talk to—to put down everything I’ve been carrying around…it might be a good idea. I’m—I’m excited to see what you have to say. You said “message will repeat” so I assume we’re not going to be playing our yes and no game. It better be a long message, Birdie. I think…I think I understand why you chose that name. There’s a bird-feeder on the railing and even though there’s no seed in it, I’ve still seen the most beautiful array of birds. I’ve been sitting here all morning, waiting for Harry to return from her supply run, and just watching them. And wondering if you built the feeder yourself, so that you could have some company. Is this what you did? You sat in this watchtower, with enough radio equipment to speak to the world, and you listened and looked out on the sunrise and the birds and felt like you were in the one good and beautiful place in the entire universe, across all timelines? Or did you feel trapped? Consigned to your tower like some kind of fairytale princess? Did you look at the birds and wish you could be free too? [click, static]
/episode/index/show/5da72b94-5220-42fb-8e82-3254e84b6fe8/id/32016632
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256 - Two Hundred Fifty Six
07/15/2024
256 - Two Hundred Fifty Six
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Okay, we…we found it. We actually found it. How does this…how does this work? I mean, it sure seems like you were here, once, given the sheer volume of radios and…other equipment that I haven’t even begun to figure out yet. I think there’s some recording stuff, which is helpful—I wonder if I can figure out a way to rig it so that it can listen to every frequency and record whenever it detects a message. That sounds way beyond my capabilities and maybe impossible. But at the very least, I am going to spend some time testing everything out. And overall, it seems like a pretty good hideout—it’s a lot more spacious than it looks from the ground, and I bet the signal and transmission reach is amazing. There’s nothing in the way of supplies, really, but we passed a town a while back and there’s a visitor’s center a little further down the mountain from here, so I think we’ll be set for a while as long as I keep the car in good working order. There are two beds here—did you have a friend with you once? Was it Fox? Or did you somehow supply this place for us. It’s…well, it’s covered in dust. But everything in this world is covered in dust. But you’re…you’re not here. I’m not sure I really expected you to be, or at least, I tried not to, but I’m still disappointed. I still hoped… You were here once though, weren’t you? This is where you…where you listened to all the other timelines? Where you communicated with whoever it is you communicate with? Where are you now? Another timeline? The right one? Or somewhere else entirely, somewhere in between? I assume…I mean, there is a visitor’s center. I assume that this was an active fire watch tower before. I’ve taken a few photos and everything looks pretty much the same in them, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone there but…I don’t know. Shockingly, Harry was pretty gracious about the fact that she’s been proven wrong—that you seemed to have led us to a good place, a useful place. She admitted she was wrong, something that is still all too rare. And she told me—she said she still doesn’t trust you, but she trusts me, and that’s enough. Is that trust enough for me? Is that trust worth anything? What else is she going to do but trust me? What else could I do but trust you? Is trust less valuable when it’s forced by circumstance? Or does that just make it more honest? Now that we’re here…what do we do? I’m glad to be safe, to be out of Fox’s view, but you promised me answers. [click, static] [beeps] --- ..- .-. / -.. .- - . .-.-.- / -- . ... ... .- --. . / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / .-. . .--. . .- - .-.-.- Our date. Message will repeat.
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255 - Two Hundred Fifty Five
07/12/2024
255 - Two Hundred Fifty Five
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Alright, we’re…we’re not there yet, not exactly, but we’re close. Except…Birdie, are you leading us up a mountain? Is this…safe? What exactly are we looking for? I don’t know what we’re going to find the further we go up, but I have a feeling we’re not going to trip over a bustling town. You said no one could see us. I definitely get that from a, you know, other human beings who may or may not be alive in this country at the moment standpoint, but I don’t see how being on a mountain hides us from Fox or any of your other insane coworkers. And I’m still not sure why I want trust you when you say this is the right thing to do. But the promise of answers…of maybe even meeting you… Well. Harry is much more skeptical, you’ll not be surprised to learn. It’s…it’s been interesting reading her notebook. I haven’t had an over abundance of time, what with being the morse translator and the driver—it’s not that Harry can’t drive, but I’d much rather be at the wheel while she tries to keep me entertained with lectures on various topics or anecdotes about ridiculous people she knew in the art world. But what I have read so far…Harry really does not like you, Birdie. Which I knew but…yeesh. Any time you sent a message, she would write these little notes about what kind of sinister second meaning could be behind your words. It was the same thing with Fox, and I guess she was right on that score, but despite my maybe foolish faith that you really do have the best intentions at heart, you and Fox are no different in her mind. We…we got into kind of an argument about it. I think being in such close quarters after so long—sure, we shared a house for six years, but that’s very different from being trapped in a car together day in and day out. I think—I think both of our patience is wearing thin. Harry wanted to get more information—wanted to be sure we could trust you before we went anywhere you led us. But how exactly would she go about getting that information? It’s not like we can look you up in the book. I told her I was done waiting. That the worst that could happen has already happened and I was going whether she wanted to come or not. She didn’t take that particularly well. And, of course, it’s not entirely true. Terrible things have happened, but we’re still alive. I guess there are worse things that could happen. But we’re…we’re alive in other places too, aren’t we? We’re dead in other places, I would think. Infinite iterations of us…we wouldn’t have made it past thirty in one of those timelines. I’ve had a hard time falling asleep lately, because I just keep thinking about those other versions. I can’t stop wondering if Abi is happy somewhere else, if there’s any point to this version of me staying alive when I could be doing so much better elsewhere? But then again…this is all I know. I’m assuming if I die, I don’t just wake up in another timeline, living another Abi’s life. If that were the case, we’d all be constantly besieged by other versions of us slamming into our consciousnesses. I exist as I am now and I can’t exist in any other way. I can’t go back, I can’t go sideways into another place, I can only move forward. That’s what I was trying to explain to Harry. That’s what I’ve been trying to explain to her for seven goddamn years. And she…she’s going along now, finally. When I threatened to go without her, she didn’t even let me finish the sentence before she told me that wasn’t happening. She said—she said even if I did sneak off in the dead of night and try to find you on my own, that she’d chase me across the whole country if she had to. That she’s thought about chasing me every single day since I left and now that she has me in her sights, she’s not going to stop. I—(a small laugh) I would’ve given anything to hear her say something like that a year ago. Six months ago, two months ago. And having her say it now, it just put into perfect clear focus how much…how much anger I still hold. How much resentment. How much compounding confusion around her, especially since she told me about Pete and… And it’s…it’s not enough. It’s not enough for her to tell me she wants me and then in the next breath tell me she betrayed me. It’s not enough for her to say she would chase me to the edge of the earth when it comes after trying to convince me not to do something I know I want to do. Anyway, I think I’m done chasing you, right Birdie? I’m here. And I’ll climb to the top of this mountain if I have to. [click, static]
[beeps] ..-. .. .-. . .-- .- - -.-. .... .-.-.- Firewatch.
/episode/index/show/5da72b94-5220-42fb-8e82-3254e84b6fe8/id/32016457
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254 - Two Hundred Fifty Four
07/11/2024
254 - Two Hundred Fifty Four
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] I’ll be honest, Birdie, for a second I thought you’d lost it. Who am I talking to in my dreams? I’ll give you three guesses. It was Harry, of course, who reminded me that I said something just like this once last year. It’s…eerie, the way that she instantly knew what you were talking about when I finished translating your code. It’s like having her read my mind and find thoughts that I didn’t even know were there. You said this was the final one, so I guess we’ve got all the numbers but….they don’t really make sense. We’re pretty sure we’ve got the latitude right, but the longitude isn’t…the grouping of month and day would mean that the longitude is halfway around the world and then the date that you gave for the seconds is over sixty, which doesn’t make any sense either. (a beat) (gasps) A zero! It’s missing a zero, you changed up the date format for the last one—it’s not 12/13, it’s 121, 39—okay, I think I get it now! Holy shit. I—we’re not even that far from this. We can be there…tomorrow. Holy shit. And it’s…safe? This place you’re sending us to? You’re sure it’s safe. Because even if Fox or Junior can’t work out the code, it seems like Fox can still just…figure out where people are, which doesn’t bring me a lot of comfort. But…we’ve gone too far to go back now. [click, static] [beeps] -. --- / --- -. . / -.-. .- -. / ... . . / -.-- --- ..- No one can see you
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253 - Two Hundred Fifty Three
07/10/2024
253 - Two Hundred Fifty Three
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Okay, Utah postcard. I wish I still had it, so I could be certain, because I did date all of them, but I just have to hope that Harry’s notes are accurate. She wishes I still had it too. She said she really hoped that she’d get to read all the postcards someday and…well, maybe she still can. Maybe someday we will go back to the house and gather them up, along with all her art and the painting I got for her in Santa Fe. If you’d told me six months ago that I’d happily hand over each and every one of those postcards to her, I’m not sure I’d believe you. But what else could she possibly learn about me, what could I possibly say to her that would be more vulnerable than everything that’s already happened. She’s cracked open my rib cage and looked inside and somehow I’m still standing, so… She’s started to let me read her notebook. She says it’s only fair. That she has this enormous advantage having listened to me talk to the air all this time. That she always had the advantage, knowing the score when I didn’t. I thought it would be helpful to hear that. To hear her admit that she’s always had the power out of the two of us. That letting her guilt and secrecy dictate our lives meant that she was always the one who had her finger on the button of our potential happiness. But it didn’t. Knowing that she thinks of herself as a coward, that she regrets what she put me through, it doesn’t actually change the fact that she put me through it. It just…makes me sad. For me, for her, for us. But I do—I do appreciate the gesture of giving me her notebook. I never would’ve expected that from her. Fox said…they said it was too late. I don’t know what that means. I don’t know if it’s too late for us to disappear, too late for us to come and meet you, too late for us to fix anything but… I’m choosing to ignore it for now. As long as you’re still sending us codes, I don’t need to listen to Fox. That’s a problem for future Whiskey. And you said—you also said “keep you safe”. That’s what you’re trying to accomplish here? Keeping us safe? From Fox? From Junior? If that’s the case, I guess I should say thank you. Though don’t hold it against me if I wait to see where this all leads before I give my full gratitude. [click, static] [beeps] ..-. .. -. .- .-.. .-.-.- / .-- .... --- / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / - .- .-.. -.- .. -. --. / - --- / .. -. / -.-- --- ..- .-. / -.. .-. . .- -- ... ..--.. Final. Who are you talking to in your dreams?
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252 - Two Hundred Fifty Two
07/09/2024
252 - Two Hundred Fifty Two
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] “Picked citrus fruit”. That’s the next date. And my god, it feels like that was a million years ago, a different lifetime. Oh damn, I just realized…when I ditched the old car, I left Dean Martin’s suit in there. I’d also picked up a dress for Harry that I thought she’d look amazing—that I thought she’d like, um, not that I’m going to tell her that. But I am bummed about Dean’s suit. I liked that suit. Anyway, even though I remember the weeks I was in LA, I definitely didn’t remember the exact date I went around snatching everyone’s lemons and oranges. I was starting to worry that I wouldn’t be able to figure out what the next set of numbers are but then…well, I don’t know if you somehow knew this or you were just counting on me being a better diary-keeper than I am, but Harry’s attention to detail has saved the day. She’s…well, she’s kept a notebook of every single transmission I ever made. Or, at least, every transmission that she heard. It’s not like she transcribed everything I said, but she…she wrote the date, and where she thinks I was and little bits of what I talked about. If I mentioned her. She wouldn’t let me see the whole notebook, but I saw enough to know that. It’s…well, I’m grateful, I guess, that she did that, because it’s helping us now, but it’s galling to have your innermost thoughts laid out and catalogued in that way. And I know, I know, they weren’t my innermost thoughts, not when I was getting on here and talking about them to anyone who would listen. But I said…a lot over this past year. And I don’t know if Harry wrote down any of what she thought and felt about what I had to say but… It’s useful, that’s the point. It’s good she did it, because I sure as hell don’t remember when I said or did most things, but also the fact that she did it at all is messing with my head a little bit. All those years of living together and feeling like she wasn’t really listening half the time and now this. I have to wonder if Fox has done the same thing. Written down every transmission I made and what I said. You must have, in order to give me a code in this way. Harry’s started to get worried that you’re leading us to Junior. That we are going to have to kill him. I told her there’d be no point to sending us on this weird memory lane wild goose chase if it was just going to end in the same confrontation but… I think there’s still a part of her that’s hoping we’ll encounter him, honestly. I think she’s willing to do what I’m not. Well, I think she’s willing in theory. I think, if it came down to it, she wouldn’t be able to. It’s not…it’s not as easy as I think she thinks it is. Even as a matter of survival. Even if you know that person is fated to die. Because that’s the thing…he’s not fated to die. Not here. And I don’t know what kind of life he could have, but he does have a life here. And he should get to live it if he wants to, regardless of what happens to him in any other timeline, or whatever is ordained from on high. If you are leading us to Junior, I can’t imagine what your goal would be. You said interfering in the past had destroyed things so what are you hoping to accomplish now? [click, static] [contrasting beeps of different pitches] ..- - .- .... / .--. --- ... - -.-. .- .-. -.. .-.-.- / -.- . . .--. / -.-- --- ..- / ... .- ..-. . Utah postcard. Keep you safe -.-- --- ..- .-..-. .-. . / - --- --- / .-.. .- - . You’re too late
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251 - Two Hundred Fifty One
07/08/2024
251 - Two Hundred Fifty One
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Sorry it’s been a few days, Birdie—we spent a little time sightseeing. Now that Harry is out and about, she seems very keen on seeing whatever she can. I won’t tell you exactly what we saw, but it was a national park and it was breathtaking. Speaking of not saying things…you told me not to say things aloud—I’m assuming things in response to your messages—and then you said, very worryingly “You have gun too. Received.” I’d been hoping that was some kind of error on your part, but even as an error it doesn’t make any sense. I received that message from Fox, but just like I told Fox, I don’t have a gun anymore, considering I had to abandon my car and everything in it. And, for what it’s worth, I haven’t picked another one up. Harry wants us too—lord knows we’ve passed enough places that stock them—but I don’t see the point, not when I’m still no good at hunting. I definitely don’t have any plans to use it on anything but a wild animal. And I’m sure as shit not teaching Harry how to shoot and if there’s one thing stupider than having a gun in the first place, it’s having a gun around someone who doesn’t know how to use one. So what exactly are you trying to tell me? You gave me numbers, numbers that I’m fairly certain are the first part of coordinates, but I’m going to need a lot more than that. I— [a knock on the door] Hold on, I think that’s Harry. [click, static for a while] [click] Alright, sorry about that but, uh, well, I think we’ve figured it out? Or Harry figured it out. You were trying to tell me the date that that message was received. Same thing as with the letter date. You’re giving me more numbers. Is that…is that right? If this is all going to be dates, than I’m going to assume the year isn’t part of it. It’d be strange to have one-nine-seven-five or seven-four in multiple different places in coordinates. When I do have all the numbers, I guess I’ll figure out the hours, minutes, and seconds. I’m at least assuming you’re giving it to me in order, and I think it’s safe to say that we’re looking at the general northwest quadrant of the country. But correct me on any of that if I’m wrong. Thankfully, I know the date for this one too, given I write down every morse code message I get. And don’t worry, I won’t say it on here, but I I’m fairly certain I’m right. I guess you’ll just have to trust me. [click, static] [beeps] .--. .. -.-. -.- . -.. / -.-. .. - .-. ..- ... / ..-. .-. ..- .. - Picked citrus fruit
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250 - Two Hundred Fifty
07/05/2024
250 - Two Hundred Fifty
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Can you hear that Birdie? [the distant sound of fireworks] Fireworks. They started about ten minutes ago and we’ve—well, we’ve even been able to see a few, just the ghost of them really. We couldn’t figure out why the hell fireworks of all things would be bleeding through and then we realized that it’s the fourth of July. Not only that but, as Harry pointed out, the bicentennial is next year. She figures people are probably kicking off a whole year of celebration today. One hundred and ninety nine years. That’s how long America has been a country. I can’t tell if that’s a long time or a short time. Two hundred doesn’t sound very long as the lifespan of a nation, but then when you think about everything America has done in that time…both the good and the bad… I mean, it’s mostly bad, isn’t it? I’m certainly not a poster child for the establishment, but I think we can all agree that America really made quite the impression in the last two centuries, including killing a lot of people. Which…I guess that’s another case of throwing stones from a glass house. But also…my grandparents came here from Scotland, Harry’s came from Poland—everyone we know came from somewhere else. Living in New York was the best of this—all the different people you could meet, the different food you could eat, the languages you’d hear on the subway. The last time I saw fourth of July fireworks with Harry was…sixty five or six, I think. The whole crew went out to Jones Beach with a case of beer and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that Pete had thrown together for us. We’d just finished fencing the last item from a job a few months earlier and I think we were all feeling that sense of camaraderie particularly strongly. And I remember Pete saying “what a country we live in. A true haven for the crooked and criminal” and we all toasted to that. He was right. From the…Boston Tea Party to the wild west to us, what is America’s legacy but one of outlawry? Including fireworks! Maybe not in every state, but there’s something fitting about celebrating the country’s birthday by enjoying an illegal activity. All those memories now…thinking about Pete hadn’t really hurt like this even after Harry first told me but knowing the details now, being unable to create a more forgiving narrative in my head… It just hurts to think about, that’s all. I—I loved him, in my own way and I thought he—and I like to think that Harry was paranoid, that there’s something about his old partner that we don’t know that made Pete do what he did and that he’d never have hurt me but he— I think it’s just the realization that I didn’t really know him at all. And I knew that—I knew that he was a mystery to me, to everyone, but I thought I knew the way I didn’t know him, if that makes sense. I thought I knew the important things. I— [click, static] Harry’s calling me over—apparently she found a new part of the sky that’s got some visible fireworks. I hope you’re seeing the sky light up wherever you are, Birdie. [click, static] [beeps] -.-- --- ..- / .... .- ...- . / --. ..- -. / - --- --- .-.-.- / .-. . -.-. . .. ...- . -.. .-.-.- You have gun too. Received.
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249 - Two Hundred Forty Nine
07/04/2024
249 - Two Hundred Forty Nine
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] “Letter date?” - that was your last message. As in…the date on the letter? It’s April 6th, 1975. What’s important about that? Four, six, one, nine, seven, five. Our first thought was coordinates, of course, and it’s the right amount of numbers to be a latitude, but seventy-five isn’t a valid number for the seconds. So maybe it’s just the degrees and minutes and you’ll send the seconds through later? Or it could just be the degrees and you want us to leave out the year entirely. If it is a latitude, we’re not that far from it. We would just need the longitude, obviously. We’re getting somewhere, I think, so let me know if this is entirely the wrong track. Otherwise, we’ll keep working away at it. [click, static] [beeps] -.. --- -. .-..-. - / ... .- -.-- / .- .-.. --- ..- -.. Don’t say aloud
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248 - Two Hundred Forty Eight
07/03/2024
248 - Two Hundred Forty Eight
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Harry’s letter…what about Harry’s letter? Are you asking if we’ve talked about it? Or…what? As it so happens, we haven’t talked about it. It’s not really relevant anymore, is it? She doesn’t need to know that I was worried sick that she’d been killed and I don’t need to bring up the fact that she secretly likes Hank Williams. She hasn’t mentioned my Rothko lie so…we’re even. It’s not like the letter was really all that revealing anyway. It was mostly…logistical. And yeah, it was clever of her to sew it into the jacket, but honestly, I’m kind of pissed that she wore the jacket to butcher chickens. And butcher them badly. God forbid she gets any of her clothes dirty. I still have it. Not that it’s very wearable anymore but. I don’t know. I had to abandon the house I’ve lived in for six years and the car that took me back and forth across the country, so I don’t have a lot of things worth sentimental value. If we were going to talk about any kind of correspondence…well, you think she’d have some specific things to say about what I’ve said on here over the last year. Both the good and the bad. And the…vulnerable. Anyway, I don’t understand why you’re asking about Harry’s letter. Is there some kind of…information she shared that you think would be useful? I don’t think it’s very smart of us to revisit any of the old potential meetup spots and you’re sending us West anyway so…again, a little more clarity please. [click, static] [beeps] .-.. . - - . .-. / -.. .- - . ..--.. Letter date?
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247 - Two Hundred Forty Seven
07/02/2024
247 - Two Hundred Forty Seven
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] You do know that you’re going to have to give me a little more than “West” right? I mean…we’ll do it, we’ll start going West now, but there’s still a lot of West left, so I need you to narrow it down. She keeps calling me Whiskey. Harry, I mean. And she seems to really not mind—she seems to even like that I call her Harry but I never expected her to even call me Abi with any regularity but… She said that she started to think of that name when she thought of me because listening to all my transmissions made her feel like she was finally meeting the real thing. The real me. I said that I’d never tried to hide from her before, that other than certain…feelings, I’ve always been exactly who I am. She—well, she skated right over the feelings bit, which I’m honestly grateful for—and said that it’s different, to hear someone talk when they think no one is listening. That she started to understand more about the way that I think, the way I feel things. And she’s started to think of that person, the real me, as Whiskey. I think it’s a little more than that to be honest. I think…I think Abi—Abigail is the person that she betrayed. The person she lied to, that she hurt, whereas Whiskey is someone who spends a lot of time talking about her, but maybe isn’t carrying as much anger around as Abi was in those last few months we were together. I sometimes wonder if she would want to go back to being strangers if we could. I sometimes wonder if I would want that. If I’d been alone when I got here—pretending, for sake of argument, that I ended up in this little wasteland of a world through some other means. What if I’d been alone and I went on my road trip and Harry was the person I found. In that context, what would we have been to each other now? It doesn’t matter in any case—life doesn’t work like that. I can’t forget everything I know about her and everything she’s done to me even if I tried. Even if I could…that’s the easy way out, isn’t it? And nothing with Harry has ever been easy. [click, static] [beeps] .... .- .-. .-. -.-- .-..-. ... / .-.. . - - . .-. Harry’s letter
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246 - Two Hundred Forty Six
07/01/2024
246 - Two Hundred Forty Six
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Okay, Birdie, we’ve gone North. We’ve gone so far North that we’re quite literally at the Canadian border. I’ve never been to Canada. Well, I guess I have now—the moment we got to the sign, I stopped the car and Harry and I both jumped out and ran for the other side of the border. One of those moments where we both had the exact same idea at the exact same time. I missed that. The way that we can be in perfect sync. Sometimes on a job, we could communicate with just a look. The whole crew had that ability to some extent, but it always felt…you know. Better. With Harry. Things have been…better. With Harry. I demanded she tell me anything else she’d left out about Pete and her snitching and…I think I know everything now. Even if I have no idea what to do with it. But it’s cleared the air some. Made me understand her a little more. Even if I’m still furious so much of the time…that fury is not aimed solely at her anymore. It’s her birthday today. June 30th. She didn’t mention anything to me—it’s not like we’ve got a wall calendar hanging off the rearview mirror or anything, so it was only when I was doing my usual marking of my atlas that I realized. I didn’t get her a gift, obviously. A trip to Canada, I guess. When I wished her a happy birthday, she just sort of…quietly said thank you and that was that. We’re both a year older and not any wiser for it. We know more now, about the world, about each other. It doesn’t feel like—I’m not sure what other secrets we possibly would have to reveal to each other. And yet, I don’t feel like I actually understand anything. I’m still just…out to sea. I don’t know. I miss Donnie. I wish I could talk to him about this stuff, I wish—I wish I could talk to him about Pete. I wish I could have someone else’s perspective on her. On us. And the real problem is that, despite everything, I still— The look on her face when she got to the other side of the border. We were both out of breath and red faced, like kids who had raced to the front door. And she smiled so big and she looked at me and said “Didn’t I tell you once that I’d take you to another country someday?” I honestly couldn’t believe that she remembered that. She said it one time, years ago. I remembered it of course, because at that time I was looking for any kind of scrap that she… We were at a new exhibit at the Morgan Library—rare manuscripts, I think from the renaissance, I can’t really remember. Pete—(voice cracking) uh, Pete, um, loved—loved stealing manuscripts. They were hard to steal, because they had to be so delicately handled, but Harry knew how to do it, which gave Pete an advantage that most thieves didn’t have. With big exhibits of them, we could steal just one, not a whole collection, and still get a really good deal for them. Especially since there is always a wealthy person out there who wants to own one just for the sake of having something rare and won’t fuss too much about where it came from. Anyway, we were casing the place, her and I, because Harry could spend hours looking at every corner of an exhibit and make it seem totally natural, like she was just looking at the art. She usually went alone, just to get the layout of the exhibits, but we’d never tried robbing the Morgan Library before, so I went with her to get a sense for the whole building’s security. And we… We had a good time. We had a really good time. We laughed at all the weird margin drawings that the monks would leave in the books of hours, or whatever they were, and Harry would tell me about the history of when and where these things had been written and, if she’d been to the place herself, she’d talk a little bit about what it was like now. I’ve never been…anywhere. And when I told her that, she said, “I’ll take you someday. Everyone should leave the country at least once”. Actually, I think she said “continent”. That’s…obviously not possible now. Well, I guess we could go to South America but…I’m just happy she remembers that conversation at all. I thought about it for weeks afterwards. What she meant by it. The implication that she would be with me if I traveled. That she’d be the one to take me. You know, I could get her a rare manuscript for her next birthday—I could walk into any museum in this country and walk right out with one, just like I did with that painting in Santa Fe. "Her next birthday”…guess I am thinking that we’ll still be, well, that we’ll still be alive and that we’ll still be together a year from now. But I really don’t know that for certain, do I? Anyway, should we keep going North or…do you want to give us a little direction here? Literal direction, in this case. [click, static] [beeps] .-- . ... - West
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245 - Two Hundred Forty Five
06/28/2024
245 - Two Hundred Forty Five
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] I’ll—I’ll get to your latest in a second but first… I’m already having a hard enough time ordering my thoughts—talking out loud on the radio and spending my days talking to Harry…it’s like my brain is more active than it’s been in months and I feel like I’m bouncing from thought to thought with no order or intention. And it’s so much worse than usual right in this moment because Harry just told me something that… I don’t know why she didn’t tell me this a year ago—maybe because when she first confessed everything I refused to hear more about it. But I talked to her about what I was saying yesterday, the messed up logic of her view of me and her view of Pete and she—she said it was different. Because what Pete did was cold blooded murder, not an accident, not an escalation of a confrontation. And I didn’t buy that, how could she know, she wasn’t there and she— It was his partner. Um, two of the people who died—one was a teller who refused to open the vault and the other was um— (pause) was a seventeen year old boy who tried to take Pete’s gun away. And that’s—I mean, I didn’t expect one of them to be just a kid—but I figured that’s what happened, that something went wrong, someone tried to interfere, a gun went off and— But the third person was Pete’s partner. His…mentee, his protege. The two of them, after they did get into the vault, after they—well, they, um, snuck out through the back and Pete—Pete shot him point blank in the head and left him in the alley behind the bank. Which…does put the other killings in a different light. Suddenly the death of the teller doesn’t seem like a robbery gone wrong, but instead… It’s different. That’s what she said. I mean, she also said that she doesn’t want to kill Junior, that she doesn’t think that’s a way to solve anything, but that she’s had to think it all through anyway. She had to consider it, because if it was the way to make things right with me, then she would— But she knows it’s not. She knows it wouldn’t fix anything, especially since she already learned that taking extreme action to protect yourself from the possibility of harm can lead to something so much worse. Because that’s why she turned Pete in. Because she felt it was just a matter of time until he did what he did to his old mentee again, but this time to me. She didn’t think she could convince me that he’d ever hurt me—and…she’s probably right about that—so she…made a different choice. And now I have to live with this knowledge and figure out how it changes my entire world view and feelings about one of the most significant relationships in my life. [click, static] So…I’ve had some things to process. Clearly. But I’m not—I’m not ignoring you, especially since what you said— “I’ll transmit safe location”. That’s what you said. Birdie does this mean…are we going to meet? I assume you mean a safe location for you to…leave me something, or somewhere Fox can’t find us or…I don’t know. I know what I’m hoping for and I also know that I need to hold that hope tightly so it doesn’t grow out of control. I don’t know how you plan to transmit a location without Fox or Junior hearing it, but I have no doubt you’ll come up with something. So for now I’ll just…wait. I’ll wait and I’ll keep going North. [click, static]
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244 - Two Hundred Fourty Four
06/27/2024
244 - Two Hundred Fourty Four
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] You want to explain what? All of it? You want to explain everything to me, is that what you’re saying? Because I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—you can transmit as long a message as you want, just make sure it repeats and I’ll sit by the radio and transcribe it all out. When we got that message, Harry asked me what an explanation would change for me. She wants to know if I’ll—if you really do tell us everything and it all makes sense and the world becomes clear, and after all of that, it really is true that killing Junior would put us back…would that change my perspective on it. And I—well, I told her I don’t know, because I don’t know. I can’t know, not really, until I know what I don’t know right now. When I don’t have the information, I can’t predict how it might change what I think. But if I’m honest with myself, I really doubt it would change that much. I’m not a killer. I don’t want to be a killer. I know that technically I am, but I—well, I don’t know! I don’t feel less guilty about Billings just because I didn’t mean to kill him, I still fought with him. But Harry seems to think it’s different and that’s what I don’t understand. How does she look at Pete and decry what he did and then look at me and say it’s okay and I can do it again—I killed a man and can kill his son and that’s not as bad as what Pete did. It doesn’t make any sense to me, that logic. And I can’t imagine a world in which Harry would want to do this particular bit of dirty business herself so it would be - it would be me. It doesn’t matter—I’m not entertaining the idea. No matter what we learn. No matter what you tell us. [click, static] [beeps] .. .-..-. .-.. .-.. / - .-. .- -. ... -- .. - / ... .- ..-. . / .-.. --- -.-. .- - .. --- -. I’ll transmit safe location
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243 - Two Hundred Forty Three
06/26/2024
243 - Two Hundred Forty Three
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Have you ever read The Screwtape Letters, Birdie? We’re stopped off the highway for some lunch—Harry has set up a little fire so we can have something hot, I don’t know why. She knows I’m not fussy about what I eat, especially on the road, but maybe she just wanted to stretch her legs. It is…a lot harder to be stuck in a car with her than a house. I’m happy to sit there and focus on driving, let the static of the radio fill the silence between us, but Harry has never been one for awkward silence. Angry silence, judgmental silence, cold silence, comfortable silence even…sure. But if she feels like she’s not the one controlling the silence…well. Anyway, she was telling me about The Screwtape Letters. It’s a C.S. Lewis book. When she started in on explaining it to me, I really had no idea what she was talking about—I thought she was just trying to cut the tension between us. But it ended up being sort of relevant. Relevant to you specifically.
It sounds nothing like the Lion, Witch, and Wardrobe stuff he wrote, though I guess those were meant for kids and this one was not. It’s about these two devils—demons? Servants of hell, I guess, I don’t know exactly what they’re called in the book. Harry says it was supposed to be a satire, but nothing about it sounded that funny. The older demon, Screwtape, is writing all these, yeah you guessed it, letters to this younger demon Wormwood. And he’s telling Wormwood how to corrupt the soul of this one human. Which, to me, seems a little ridiculous. In my experience, human beings are pretty corruptible, I can’t imagine that you’d ever need two demons on the job. I don’t know, maybe this one guy was particularly upstanding. I don’t know if you’re picking up on the resemblance yet, but Harry thinks that you and Fox are a bit like Screwtape and Wormwood, with me caught in the middle. I told her I’m hardly a pure of heart person that needs to be tempted into surrendering my soul to Satan or whatever, and besides, aren’t we already in hell? She didn’t take that very well. Between this and the Asimov, you’ve got to wonder if some of these authors knew something the rest of us didn’t. Did they get punted into their own timeline offshoots only to somehow find their way back? The long and short of it was that Harry does not think I should trust you. Because for all we know, you and Fox are playing a twisted game over the ownership of my immortal soul. But I do trust you. Maybe I shouldn’t. Actually, I probably shouldn’t. But I do. I just wish you could explain it all to me. Even just one thing. [click, static] [beeps] .-- .- -. - / - --- / . -..- .--. .-.. .- .. -. Want to explain
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242 - Two Hundred Forty Two
06/25/2024
242 - Two Hundred Forty Two
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] ‘Keep going north’—very helpful. Not at all an answer to the question I was asking, but…okay. What the hell. Why not. It’s guidance of a sort, I’ve got nothing better to do and I actually haven’t been to— [click, static] I guess I shouldn’t say where it is I’ve been or haven’t been, given that that might give us away, the state we’re in now. Then again, if Fox can find us wherever we are and tell Junior… [click, static] But, okay, fine. We’ll go north. You know, Harry’s got a lot of opinions about you, Birdie. If I didn’t know any better, I might say that she’s jeal— [click, static] She’s not very pleased with you. She’s…frustrated. Which I get. I’m pretty much always frustrated with you. But I still like you, for some reason. I still like talking to you. I’ll never forget the first time we spoke, really spoke, in dits and dashes. I don’t think I’d ever experienced that kind of joy before. Not until I found Donnie. Harry…Harry did finally get an apology out for that. For her part in that. For the part I feel she played. She cornered me in the kitchen this morning—we’ve been staying in this little house for the last week, I think we’ve probably got to move soon but for now we’ve been getting by. Though it is weird to be in a new space with her. She’s always somewhere I don’t expect. But I guess I don’t really expect her anywhere anymore. I’m so used to not seeing her. I keep trying to not see her, if I’m honest. I’ve spent a lot of time in my car, scanning all the open channels and looking at my atlas, trying to figure out where we should go next. Even when we’re in the same room, I try not to look at her for too long. Because I know that if I do, I’ll—I’ll let her talk to me. I’ll let her apologize. Apparently she wasn’t keen on waiting for me to cave. She withheld the hot water and stood in the doorway and wouldn’t let me leave or get tea until she said her piece. It was clear that she’d practiced it. Or, at the very least, come up with a plan of what she wanted to say. She said she was sorry for Don. That she had never wanted anyone to get hurt, that she’s lived every day in terror since Junior showed up at the house. Terror that he would catch up to her or, worse, catch up to me. That’s what she said. That it would be worse. And she said, straight out, that she does feel responsible, for all of it. She always has. Even when we thought it was nuclear war or some rampant disease, she thought it was just…the universe punishing her. She seemed…annoyed, that I’m the one the universe chose to punish for my decision. Almost like she’s offended that she’s not the main character of the world. Maybe that’s unfair. Probably that’s unfair. Maybe she was annoyed because she doesn't want me to be punished. She did say—she said I didn’t deserve it. That I didn’t deserve any of it, that she would take on the burden by herself if she could. She also did assure me that she had no idea about any of this—the timelines, Birdie and Fox, the direct consequences of my actions. She really was just scared that something terrible would find us if we left the safety of our house and I guess she was sort of right about that, even if she didn’t know it for certain. She said she’d do anything to make it right. That all I had to do was tell her what I wanted and she’d do it. I have no idea what I want. She can’t fix the things that are broken and I also…I wouldn’t know how to make demands of Harry. I’m too used to being the person who steps into line, I wouldn’t know where to begin making a new path. Anyway, going north. We’ll do it. At least I’ll have someone in the passenger seat with me this time. [click, static]
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241 - Two Hundred Forty One
06/24/2024
241 - Two Hundred Forty One
Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Breaker breaker, this is Whiskey calling out for any goddamn clarification from Birdie. We’ve been talking about it more, the whole “Junior is already dead over there” thing. And we can’t think of any other explanation than the one we first came up with—that he must have died over in the original timeline, the “correct” timeline, whatever you want to call it, and that…because he no longer exists there, removing him here would allow our timelines to merge. But I need to know, is that…right? I mean, I know that that’s been the solution for a while—or at least we’ve been operating under the assumption that that was the solution—but does he really not exist in that other timeline anymore? Is there nowhere for him to go if we—if we did fix it? Through some other means? (sighs) I don’t know. There are plenty of things in this world that can’t be fixed. Time can’t be turned back on itself—at least, I don’t think it can, but, god, after everything I’ve learned this past year, who knows what’s possible— I can’t think about that. There’s only so many insane hypotheticals I’m willing to humor. Harry wants so badly to fix it. Even knowing that it was me killing—that it was Billings’ dying that brought us here I think she…I think she heard me when I talked about where the blame stops. And I don’t mean just heard my broadcast, I think she really…heard me. I think she understands that I can hate myself for what I did and be furious with her for putting me in that position in the first place. In all these years, she never—she never called me a murderer for what I did. She knew that sometimes the guilt would fill me up so much I’d start to drown and she…she never held me under. I don’t know if she judged me for it—judges me for it. If it changed the way she saw me—she never gave any indication that it did but finding out that Pete messed up and killed—I mean, it changed her perspective on him enough to rat him out, destroy his life. Destroy all our lives. Maybe it’s because it was an accident or self-defense but neither of those things ever made me feel any better about what I did, so… Maybe Harry sees killing Junior before he can kill us as some kind of self defense but I don’t think it is. I’m not sure I believe in preemptive strikes. I just…I don’t know what to do. I could really use a little guidance here. [click, static] [beeps] -.- . . .--. / --. --- .. -. --. / -. --- .-. - .... Keep going north
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240 - Two Hundred Forty
06/21/2024
240 - Two Hundred Forty
Please visit for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] So Harry— Well, she told me something interesting today. I’ve been—well, the whole point of doing these transmissions on my own is that it’s my time, my words, my choice to tell you what I want. By that nature, I’ve been wanting…privacy, I guess. Which is silly, maybe. Wanting privacy from one person so I can speak to the whole world, whatever’s left of it. But it—well, it doesn’t have to make sense for me to feel it. And even if it so often feels like I’m just talking to myself, that I’m just speaking thoughts out loud and no one hears them, maybe there’s something to be said for actually saying these things to people. For letting some of those inside thoughts out. Harry told me—well, that she’s started to enjoy being called Harry. How’s that for a surprise? Over months of hearing my transmissions, she felt like—she said it felt like forgiveness, every time I called her that. Like I must be important to her still if I was bothering to give her a nickname, to give her some space in my head as someone unique. “Some space”—like she doesn't know she’s consumed entire sections of my thoughts. And for once, I turned the question back on her—why she always calls be Abigail instead of Abi if nicknames are supposed to be a sign of affection. Seems like maybe she was just being hopeful in assuming what it meant for me, given that she doesn’t seem to abide by that rule. Except, well, turns out it was just another way of keeping her distance. Formality as the bricks in the wall between us. She’s started calling me Abi since she got here. She’s even called me Whiskey a few times. I’m not sure what to do with that. [click, static]
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239 - Two Hundred Thirty Nine
06/20/2024
239 - Two Hundred Thirty Nine
Please visit for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Harry’s asleep—went to bed hours ago and I just…can’t. [click, static] In all the time away, I forgot. I forgot how much I like Harry. And that’s different, isn’t it, than being in lo— I mean, I like her the way I like—liked Donnie. And Pete and Richie and Francis and Sylvie and Martha and Millie and every single person I’ve ever cared enough about to spend time with. I like her weird little bits of trivia, and her love of puzzles, and the way that she sees art as something important and vital in the world. I like her sharp sense of humor and how she’s gotten worse and worse over the years at pretending not to find my jokes funny. I like that she cares about doing right, but not doing good. Her moral compass is…well, it’s fucking infuriating, but its hers and she sticks to it. Okay, maybe I don’t like that as much as I respect it. I like that she demands respect. She always has. The guys always respected her and any time we were out and a man would be creepy toward her or condescending or just…annoying. She never took it. And I never did either but I’m —Harriet’s not built like I am, she’s slight and soft and feminine and men often think that means— She’s strong in other ways. Ways that matter. Ways that I’m not. It’s not just the strength of her convictions, her immovable morality but the way that she weathers every single storm with grace and never breaks. We’ve both had our share of hardships, and they’ve been different kinds of hardships, but…I don’t know. If she’s telling the truth, which I think, finally she is, then she spent six years in the company of someone she wanted, someone she knew wanted her back and she denied herself out of a sense of guilt fueled by that moral compass. I denied myself out of fear, out of insecurity and doubt, but she…she resisted getting what she wanted because she felt she didn’t deserve it. I don’t know, maybe that isn’t strength. Maybe that’s just cruelty. Or maybe it’s neither of those things—I’ve never been a reliable character witness when it comes to her. [click, static]
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238 - Two Hundred Thirty Eight
06/19/2024
238 - Two Hundred Thirty Eight
Please visit for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] I keep—I keep calling her Harriet. I hear it, feel the shape of her name in my mouth, and it feels…not wrong, but—well, I grew so accustomed to using her nickname—the nickname I had for her, the one that I’d use to talk about her to other people. But with her here, I find myself saying “Harriet” even when she’s not in the room. It’s…helping a little, in some ways. Helping me keep my distance, reminding me that she’s not just an abstract idea in my head, the way she has been the last year, but that she’s a real, three dimensional person who’s here and who I still… We finally talked about your latest messages, Birdie. And she—she agrees with me. That you’re probably saying that Junior needs to die in order for us to go back to where we’re from. Because…well, in that timeline we’d be free people, wouldn’t we? Are we? Do we exist back there too the way we do here? Are there infinite versions of us in infinite timelines? If we fixed things here the way that Fox says they can be fixed, would we just…be absorbed into whatever life we were in back there? I—I honestly doubt that Harriet and I even speak anymore. If we hadn’t escaped, we would’ve—according to Harriet—been let go and turned witness. I would’ve refused to testify and maybe…maybe that means the deal would’ve been bad and I’d just go to jail anyway. But even if I didn’t, even if I was somehow free, I don't think I’d have talked to her again after what she did. Fucking all of us over like that, out of some misguided fear about Pete…she’s the only other person in the universe who doesn’t want to kill me right now and I’m still not sure how to forgive her. If I can. Sometimes I think that maybe forgiveness isn’t necessary. For me to…for us to… I wonder how many versions of us figure it out. Figure us out. I wonder if any versions do. Or if we’re fated to get close, but never step over the line. [click, static]
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237 - Two Hundred Thirty Seven
06/18/2024
237 - Two Hundred Thirty Seven
Please visit for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] “Dead over there. Where you’re from.” So. Junior is…supposed to be dead? In the—the proper timeline or whatever you want to call it? So if he…if he died here… [click, static] Nope, I can’t think about that. Not—not right now anyway. Maybe later, Harriet and I can… [click, static] I guess I haven’t really said much about our grand reunion. Well, it wasn’t that grand. I told her where to go, she remembered enough about the song to figure out where it was, and she showed. It’s…it’s fine. It’s good. It’s terrible. I don’t know. We— Well, we’re not really talking about anything, you know? Everything that happened before I left, everything that’s happened since, her being alone this whole time, me finding Donnie and then… Harriet actually—well, unlike Donnie, she wanted to come on the radio with me, “if I insist on broadcasting still”. But I… I told her no. I don’t know who’s listening to this anymore—or at all. I never know if Birdie is going to drop off the face of the earth, or if Fox gave up, or if there are other people out there who can hear my voice and just not speak back. But this is…this is mine. And maybe it’s selfish, but I’m not—I’m not gatekeeping the radio waves from Harriet. She has her own radio, if she wants to broadcast, she can. But I don’t want to argue with her on here. I don’t want to have my thoughts and feelings and perceptions called into question when I’m just trying to get all those things out, work through them. And she hasn’t done that so far, not yet but I— I can’t think straight around her. And I need to be able to…I need to keep a level head. I need— We still haven’t talked about Don. She started to say sorry, but I cut her off before she could finish. I couldn’t bear to hear how to finished it. Would it have been “sorry for your loss”? Or “sorry you blame me for Don’s death”? “Sorry I betrayed you”? “Sorry I led you on for years and we still haven’t—“ [click, static] It is both harder and easier to be angrier at her when I’m with her. Easier because I have something to aim at, because sometimes I’ll look at her and I’ll see her face in the moment that I told her I— And then other times, she’ll enter a room and I’ll get that whiff of lavender and turpentine and everything inside me just…melts. I want to be able to make her the villain in my story—I remember thinking…those first few days I was driving around, I remember thinking that if I found someone, if I really found someone else and we got to talk and get to know each other and really form a bond…well, you know how you practice conversations in your head? Ones you had ten years ago, ones you’re planning to have, ones you know you’ll never have. Well, I would practice talking to this imaginary person and telling the story of my life. It would be so easy to make Harriet the villain—rival into turncoat into nemesis. There’s a clean narrative there, one that I wouldn’t have to lie about to tell. Leave certain things out maybe but…that imaginary person, they’d believe me. They’d be on my side. But I didn’t find anyone. I just kept talking to the open airwaves and it was so much harder to keep the story straight when I wasn’t telling it all at once. When my feelings on the subject changed every day. When I hadn’t seen Harriet in months and I started to miss her so badly I’d get in my car and start driving back to Pennsylvania only to turn around when I had to stop to refill my gas tank. I never told you that, I don’t think. I spent so much time, wasted so many miles driving back to her. I always turned around right back around again, had to watch the same road go by. So maybe I haven’t done a good job of making the story simple, me as hero, her as villain, but the story I’ve been telling is still mine. And I don’t—I’m not ready for her to tell her side of it. [click, static]
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