The Radio Static

Gap Between Words

The gaps between words... that has you intrigued. Not only because it sounds like it's just referring to spaces, but because it seems akin to whatever she hears in radio static.

Maybe she explains it better? Hopefully. It sounds like it can help you learn what she knew, and maybe figure out what that strange machine in her lab was.

5/9/10 - Gap Between Words

Grandmother inquired about my preoccupation with books so much. I told her... it's about what Father told me. When I was but a little girl. Even younger than I am now. When he was starting to work on his new project.

I was most curious about his noise machines. I asked, and I quote;

"Is it so important because of the information being shared?"

No, he said.

I inquired further, "Is it because of the sounds?"

Again, he replied, No.

"The words?"

No.

"The meaning behind the messages?"

No, he reiterated.

So, I pondered his fascination. What was his reason? Why was he so... enthralled by his work?

Hopelessly lost amidst a sea of his literature, at last, I found a crumb of it hidden right in front of me. In the gaps between words. Empty gaps in everyone else's eyes. But I saw it. A fleeting thing, it slipped my eyes immediately. But I knew what I saw. The reason Father was so entranced by making new ways of sharing the world.

It was in the gaps nobody else focuses on.

This catches your attention outmost. It's such an intriguing concept to you. The gaps between messages carrying a hidden meaning? It's absurd... but, what she saw must have held some merit, if her maid trusted her so.

Of course,it seems to stem from a misunderstanding of her Father. He was always focused on innovation. His reason was to create better and better. Not for the meaning in between the lines.

Then again... I doubt anyone would've believed him. So why mention it at all?

5/16/10 - Gap Between Words

Grandmother grew cross with me for my incessant reading. Without inquiring why, she simply took away my books and directed me to spend time with my peers, and girls my age. Or, if it doesn't suit my fancy, then to assist her in sewing and cooking.

After a week of drudgery, she allowed me back to my journal. It was only after many requests and much working with my hands. She wants me to be a proper young lady, not a scholar like Father.

Finally, she says that, so long as I do well, I can continue my studies. I find her worries vexing. Although, one she stated does make sense, I feel her solution was unjust.

My eyes have been troubling me of late, causing a peculiar slant as if they're growing thinner. Despite this, my eyesight is fine. Yet she says it's the devils work, and my fault for reading too much.

Thankfully, she's relented. For now, I shall continue using my journal to document my findings. I've noticed after the absence, it has been easier than ever to spot the gaps between words.