Sending this out over the waves. Cracking dials. Flicking switches. Range maximised.

Anyone out there?

Calling out from Outpost 89. Hello? I don't know if you're getting this, but here goes. I have a message.

I was born in 1989. Yup — I can just about call myself an eighties child, although I don't remember much from that time. My childhood was spent in the nineties. PlayStation, Pogs, Pokémon, and sunny days riding my bike around the street with my brother.

I had a good childhood. It's a world that seems a million miles away from life today. Technology. I love it, but man… analogue. That old physical medium. Now it's streaming anything you want: music, books, games, movies. A screen permanently welded to my hand. Looking for fix after fix.

Shock and awe. Like this, love that, kudos. AI content flooding every platform until you can't even be sure what's real and what's not. Ah, the old days. I'm remembering the old days. I was born in 1989 and I'm so glad I knew a different time.

To those from the same era who've survived till now, I'm at Outpost 89. I'm calling for you. I remember the time before. I know your pain. But know at least that I am your friend.

End of message. Static. Switches flicked off. Dials cranked down. Signal listening.