The Divine Radio (standard:humor, 1789 words)
Author: mr shaw	Added: Mar 12 2002	Views/Reads: 3158/2249	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
On a windswept hillside in Wales, a man unveils his remarkable invention.

From where I'm stood, I can barely see a thing past the gawpers and
camera crews and journalist and the zealots. Oh, yes, and the genuinely 
religious, half of them hoping for a miracle, half for a ridiculous 
scam, about to be exposed on international TV. Perhaps if move slightly 
to the right here, and stand on this bit of a lump in the field. 

Ah, much better, I can now just about glimpse his balding head - there's
a Divine joke from the "Lord Almighty" if ever I heard one - and his 
shoulders. He's facing away from me of course, and a placard reading 
"John 12:32" or something sways into my line of sight now and then. 
Still, you can't win them all. And of course, as I know what's going to 
happen it's only polite to let someone else have a better view. 

I never really understood why people do that, with the placards I mean.
You can see them at any large gathering of people, soccer matches or 
rock concerts. Do they think they're going to convert someone watching 
It's beyond me. As far as I know, and I do by the way,  the only way 
that someone will truly believe in God or Jehovah or whatever, is by 
hearing voices. Then, oh man, then they're gone. Bang, religious 
fervour for evermore. 

Where was I? Oh yes, the man with the bald head. Emlyn Jones,
ex-headteacher, resident of Blackwood, Gwent. Down in the Valleys, the 
sound of male voice choirs echoing through the empty caverns of the 
coal mines. Sort of a sad place, but perfect for Mr Jones to start his 
experiment. You see, according to him, his machine wouldn't work in 
many places. A combination of the melancholy air, the mountains and the 
dragons. 

(Actually, there's no dragons in Wales any more. They died out long ago.
One of the finest moments of the Creation, and "Pouff!" they were gone, 
like the venerable Dodo. Except that Dodos were an experiment gone 
wrong of course.) 

Sorry, yes, I'm diverting myself away from the explanation in hand. And
you know where such lack of concentration can get you. Anyway, I'll try 
to tell you the whole thing straight, without the meanderings of an old 
and tired man. 

Mr Jones has invented a machine that he says allows him to talk to God.
Simple as that. He switches it on, twiddles a few knobs, pulls a couple 
of puller things and God says hello. He won't reveal, for obvious 
reasons, how exactly it works, just something to do with a barometric 
change brought about by the atmosphere of the area reacting with 
special circuitry inside the radio. 

He was talking on this "Divine Wireless" for a couple of weeks before he
even told his wife. She of course thought it strange that he spent 
every night in his potting shed, in the dark, coming in late with a 
serene smile on his face. Still, that was her Emlyn all over, as she 
told her sister in Abergwen. 

By chance, he was overheard explaining this in a small pub in Newbridge,
by none other thanAnn Barker, head of Religious Affairs for a 
soon-to-be launched satellite TV station. Funny coincidence. She was 
intrigued by the passion he had for his machine, but was sceptical 
about whether it would work. Professionally curious about the 
theological implications of such a machine, even if it was bogus, she 
asked the estimable Mr Jones for a demonstration. 

Mr Jones agreed, his reticence about publicising the Radio overshadowed
completely by his fame-struck reaction to his being on satellite TV. 
(And this from a man claiming to have been speaking to God on the phone 
for the last few days!) 

Ms Barker was converted instantly. The radio voice answered her
questions that no one had a prayer of knowing - other than her mother, 
but she was long since dead. She went into media overdrive, on Radio 
Four, then various TV shows, highbrow and not so highbrow. This 
snowballed and for days there was talk of nothing else. A small war 
started in Uzbekistan, but it was demoted to page three of even the 
broadsheets,  soap stars' and footballers' opinion on the Divine 
Wireless being more important that another rebel uprising in the 
Balkans.  All the while Mr Jones kept his own counsel. 



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