“Three pick-up trucks approach. One is red and two are silver. Three men leave each truck for a total of nine. Another man appears from behind a tree, the tenth. They each wear their hair short except, for the tenth man who wears no hair at all. They do not hear me, though I am in their speakers. They do not feel me, though I am in the air. Each man carries a red, plastic tank of fuel in their left hand and each carries a large blade in the right. They look at each other, but do not speak. They move in harmony with one another, not as though this is something they planned, but as though each truck and the men inside arrived to do the same thing at the same time by happenstance. They cut through the foliage with their blades. They widely ignore the sting of the fern. The red truck’s radio ceases to function. The cab of the red truck fills with smoke. The men do not look back, they continue through the greenery to the base of the tower. Each man bleeds and each man ignores his blood. One man falls to unconscious at the base of the tower. The others continue. One man becomes tangled in the ferns. The others continue. Eight men spread fuel at the base of the tower. Eight men begin to cut pipes and cords with their blades. I believe it will soo-”
-final transmission of the radio
