Knowing Anonymous

The phantom of the radio

I ran out of the coffee shop doors, my red hair flailing behind me and my sweater-covered hands grasping the tray of boiling hot lattes. My first big day. I looked up at the radio station with my extremely large and alert eyes. All of the sudden, the lights in the window flickered and I shivered, am I supposed to be here?
It doesn't matter. I burst through the doors of the station, ready to work my way up to DJing for the people of New York City at Fm 2.9. I shyly brushed some hair behind my ear and walked through the doors to my boss' recording studio, but I was stopped in my place by an extremely attractive and yet very approachable coworker. The steaming coffees flew from my hands and onto the shoes of the warm-eyed boy.
"Oh shit that's hot!" He yelped and knelt down to pick up the 4, now empty, cups on the floor.
"Oh my gosh I'm so-" I started to apologize but he cut me off.
"I'm so sorry, I completely rammed into you." He said, looking up me. "I'm Dylan." He smiled and reached out a muscular hand. I brushed my hair back with my left hand and reached out my right to shake.
"I'm Tara and oh my gosh I'm so sorry about your clothes!" I was shocked by his sturdy shake.
"Well, Tara.." He's said, not breaking eye or hand contact. "Are you ready to rock and radio?"

Dylan walked me up to the big boss, Mr. Cuomo. He was a man rapidly approaching 50, but his blue eyes twinkled like that of a 35-year-old.
"You must be Tara." He said, with a charming but not at all creepy nor predatory wink. "You ready to deliver some news and nice beats to the American people of New York?"
"Y-yes" I stuttered, my eyes wondering to Dylan, who gave me a reassuring nod.
"Great!" He beamed. "Well sit back, take notes on how Dylan is running the radio machines, and listen to some news!"

I sat in the corner behind Dylan, nervously tugging at the flannel I wore layered beneath my gray cardigan, and below the red beanie that sat upon my red hair. Dylan twisted some knobs, adjusting a few things before the broadcast. He looked back at me for a second to hand me a headset. "Don't worry Tara, you'll take my place in no time." He turned back to Mr. Cuomo and put on his headset. "And we're on in 3... 2....."
Cuomo swiveled around, "Annnnnd welcome back to Fm 2.9 baby! It's Chris here with your morning news and tunes! The President has announced he's moving the curfew up to 5:00 pm for non-essential workers, any thoughts on that Dylan?"
Dylan slid his hand up on a bar, making a sound effect I'd describe as ruh-roh. Suddenly, I heard a buzzing in my ears. I looked around, Cuomo ripped off his headset and looked around angrily, Dylan furrowed his brows.
Greeting citizens. The buzzing lessened, but it was like faint thunder in the background. My hair stood up on my arms.
This is a message from Anonymous, to the people of New York City.
The voice was rough and deep and distorted.
There is no remaining doubt— the leaders of this country will not stop silencing their citizens. The corruption will not end on it's own.
I clutched my headphones, I'd heard a message like this years ago, I recalled as an icy feeling grew in my stomach.
Unpleasant as it may be, the people must revolt. The government serves the people. We have the power, we are the legion. The buzzing began to fade, but I wasn't ready for the connection to cut off.
I pushed past Dylan and shoved his arm out of the way, pressing the mic button.
"Who is this?" I asked loudly into the speaker.
There was a long pause, with only the distorted crackling.
We are Anonymous. The voice said. We are the legion. You are the legion. The crackling ended abruptly, and Dylan pulled my hand off of the button.
"Don't fall for it Tara" He whispered coldly, he didn't sound angry just annoyed. "Every now and then they hack into our system and give a message like that." He side-eyed me. "It doesn't mean anything... he's not saying anything we don't already know." His hand was still grasping mine.
"Well!" Mr. Cuomo announced. He pounded his fist into a couple buttons, and SZA began to play. My hands caressed the headphone on my ear. Anonymous, huh? I felt butterflies in my stomach, or maybe it was fear.