At 2.17 am, the newsroom was quiet enough to hear the lights hum. Martin Hale sat alone at the audio desk, editing a routine interview for the morning bulletin. He had stayed late to avoid the office gossip and the ache of going home to silence.
A red indicator blinked on a monitor that should have been inactive. A live feed opened by itself. At first there was only static, then a voice, low and strained.
“Martin, if you can hear this, do not speak.”
His fingers froze. The voice was his own.
The recording continued, describing details that had not been public: the faulty fire door on the west stairwell, the cash envelope hidden behind the third server rack, the threat emailed to the editor that afternoon. Each sentence ended with a soft breath, as if the speaker was running out of time.
Martin stood and locked the door. He checked the system logs. The feed had no source, no location, and no timestamp. When he tried to mute it, the voice returned, sharper now.
“You will be blamed. Unless you follow instructions.”
A message appeared on screen. Leave the building in five minutes. Walk north. Bring your phone.
Martin obeyed. Outside, the city was empty, streets washed clean by rain. His phone vibrated. A map glowed, leading him to a closed petrol station. Under the canopy stood a figure holding a recorder.
The man removed his hood. He looked exactly like Martin, but older, lined by years Martin had not lived.
“I survived,” the double said. “You didn’t. Not yet.”
He explained quickly. A data breach at the station tomorrow would expose a criminal network. The network would silence the newsroom. In one version of events, Martin tried to warn people and was framed. In another, he stayed quiet and lived with it. The feed was a loop, sent back through compromised archives.
Sirens wailed nearby. The older Martin pressed the recorder into his hand.
“Broadcast the truth first,” he said. “End the loop.”
Martin ran back. He cut into the overnight signal and played the recording, unedited. Names, dates, proof. By dawn, arrests had begun.
The red indicator went dark. The future voice never returned. Martin watched the sunrise through the studio glass, alive, exhausted, and certain.
Vocabulary Notes
Routine (adjective / noun)
Meaning: Regular, ordinary, or done as part of normal daily work without excitement or importance.
Example: “editing a routine interview for the morning bulletin.”
Explanation: Here, routine shows that Martin expects nothing unusual. This contrast makes the later events more shocking.
Similar words: ordinary, standard, everyday, typical, habitual
Strained (adjective)
Meaning: Sounding tense, weak, or under pressure, often because of stress, fear, or pain.
Example: “a voice, low and strained.”
Explanation: The word suggests emotional and physical stress, creating immediate tension and uncertainty about the speaker.
Similar words: tense, tight, stressed, forced, pressured
Inactive (adjective)
Meaning: Not working, switched off, or not in use.
Example: “a monitor that should have been inactive.”
Explanation: The unexpected activation of something inactive signals that something is wrong and possibly dangerous.
Similar words: idle, dormant, switched off, unused, disabled
Compromised (adjective)
Meaning: Made unsafe, unreliable, or vulnerable, especially because security has been broken.
Example: “sent back through compromised archives.”
Explanation: This indicates that the system has been interfered with, suggesting hacking, corruption, or criminal control.
Similar words: breached, weakened, exposed, corrupted, undermined
Unedited (adjective)
Meaning: Shown or broadcast without changes, cuts, or removal of information.
Example: “played the recording, unedited.”
Explanation: Using unedited emphasises honesty and risk. Martin shares the full truth, even though it could be dangerous.
Similar words: raw, untouched, complete, original, uncensored
Story written by ChatGPT 5.2.
Images created by ChatGPT 5.2.
CC Music: Drifting at 432 Hz – Unicorn Heads.
Reading Short Stories/Content for English Learners 
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