A 10-minute audio-drama pilot of Building 113, fully audio-descriptive. Ike embarks on a five-week low-vision program, unaware of what stirs beneath the surface.
NARRATOR (quiet, confident): July 18, 2025. Ike arrives at Building 113—a center promising to restore independence to veterans with impaired sight. Beneath its calm corridors, however, something else hums in the shadows.
SFX: Soft beeps of a heart monitor; distant corridor footsteps; chair scrape.
NARRATOR (warm, measured): Ike settles into the exam chair, his left eye freshly bandaged. Dr. Thompson reviews the chart—he knows Ike lost vision in his right eye over thirty years ago in the war, and only now, after this glaucoma-shunt surgery, is his remaining eye stable.
DR. THOMPSON (professional): Mr. Carter, the implant is healing beautifully. You’ve managed on one eye for decades—your resilience shows in every report.
SFX: Clipboard snap; paper sliding.
NARRATOR: The doctor’s gaze drifts to a faint scar along Ike’s jaw. Recognition flickers.
DR. THOMPSON (gentle, earnest): Ike, years ago—when some men attacked my mother on her porch—you stepped between them and her. You took a punch meant for her and held them off until help arrived. I only put it together after today’s surgery. She’s passed on, but I’ve never stopped owing you my thanks.
SFX: Long exhale; soft monitor beep fades.
NARRATOR: Ike folds the referral slip, tucks it into his pocket, oak staff in hand. A surge of gratitude and hope fills him.
SFX: Automatic doors whoosh; distant traffic hum; breeze rustling leaves.
NARRATOR (soft triumph): Ike steps into the afternoon sun, hand on Sheree’s carved staff. He breathes deep, then follows the painted signs: “Veterans Center → Rehab Wing → Building 113.”
SFX: Iron gate creaks open; lock clicks; cane tapping on gravel.
NARRATOR (resolute): The gates part. Ike’s Marine-Corps-emblem cane taps: tap… tap… tap. A chime signals his arrival.
HELENA (warm, clear): Welcome, Mr. Carter. I’m Helena Cruz. You’ve arrived.
SFX: Fingertips tracing wood grain.
NARRATOR: Inside, soft chatter and distant footsteps mingle with the hushed promise of new beginnings.
SFX: Commons doors open; gentle buzz of voices; chairs shifting.
HELENA (off-panel): Ike, these specialists will guide you through every step.
KELLY (gentle, precise): I’m Kelly—low-vision lab instructor. We’ll master magnifiers, raised-print reading, and the Talking Books program.
AARON (steady): I’m Aaron—mobility orientation coach. Cane drills and textured floor-strip exercises will rebuild your confidence.
MELISSA (bright, adventurous): I’m Melissa—outdoor therapy. Golf at dawn, fishing at dusk, mall navigation, sailboats, horseback trails… you name it, we’ll explore.
KAYA (warm, patient): I’m Kaya—occupational therapist. I’ll teach kitchen appliances by sound, meal prep, and set up your talking-book device.
ERNIE (kind, reassuring): I’m Ernie—music and tactile skills instructor. Piano, guitar, any instrument you wish to master by feel.
RYAN (calm, precise): I’m Ryan—assistive-tech instructor. I’ll configure your screen reader, haptic feedback, and custom apps for daily life.
FAHIM (quiet, methodical): I’m Fahim—digital rehab coordinator. I’ll manage your virtual navigation modules and networked training simulations.
NARRATOR: Each specialist places a token in Ike’s palm—Kelly’s raised-letter card; Aaron’s textured cane grip; Melissa’s dimpled golf ball; Kaya’s cooking spoon; Ernie’s piano key; Ryan’s smartphone; Fahim’s tactile tablet. Ike responds by touch, and they exchange encouraging smiles.
SFX: Distant door click; faint drone of servers; muffled voices.
NARRATOR (low, tense): Beneath the rehab floors lies a vast subterranean wing the size of a city block. Hundreds of monitors glow, rows of technicians type in unison, and low-volume chatter drips with urgency. Locked doors hint at missions far beyond therapy—today, only whispers slip upward.
SFX: Early dawn; cot springs creak; journal cover opens.
NARRATOR (intimate): That night, Ike sits on the edge of his cot. Two canes lie across his lap—one handmade, one soon official. His journal lies open.
IKE (soft, resolute): Day 1 at Building 113. I felt the gate before I saw it… met strangers who already know me by touch. Tomorrow, I learn again—still blind to what lurks beneath these walls.
SFX: Pen lifts; journal snaps shut.
NARRATOR (closing warmth): Over five weeks, Ike will rebuild strength and rediscover light—while a deeper secret pulses below, waiting for him to realize its call.
[END with a distant drum heartbeat fading into silence.]