EPISODE 5: THE COST OF LISTENING ## CHAPTER 1: PHYSICAL TOLL Marcus Webb woke up to the sound of dripping water, a slow, irregular rhythm that fell into the deep basin beneath his cot. The smell was not decay, nor mold; it was something colder, like river sediment mixed with ozone after a lightning strike—a scent that settled heavy and metallic in his throat. He lay still for several minutes, letting the weight of his limbs settle back into reality. His head throbbed against the sheet, a dull ache that felt structural, as if the bone itself had been scraped clean. He lifted an arm, watching it swing sluggishly through the cool air of the station’s dusty basement room. The movement cost him, radiating a deep, insistent soreness from his shoulder blade down to his wrist. A metallic taste coated his tongue, sharp and coppery. It reminded him instantly of old pennies or poorly maintained blood. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the residue. When he finally sat up, the effort was monumental, sending ripples of nausea through his stomach. His clothes felt wrong—too rough against skin that was protesting every millimeter of movement. He blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the low-wattage gloom filtering in from a high window near the radio racks. Dust motes swam visible...