In radio, silence is death.
They call it dead air - that hollow second between sound and sound, when the transmitter hums but the world forgets to listen. The audience doesn't notice it for a heartbeat, then panic sets in: "Is the power out? Is the DJ asleep? Is this... part of the show?"For Eddie Vale, silence was never an accident. He'd spent years crafting it. Timing it. Controlling it. The pauses between songs, the half-second hesitation before a jingle hit - that was his art. You could feel suspense through a well-placed breath. You could make a city hold still.
But that was before everything went wrong.