Richard slowly ate his toast at his kitchen table, counting on the salty butter to peirce his sleep instead of his usaul coffee, which he had ran out of. He had to be up early to get his transmissions to the states by noon. He tossed the dish back into the sink, and packed on his thick coat and sank his hands into his wool gloves.

Richard worked to live, and he was content with that. Alone, in a small cabin on the Northern most peek of Greenland, he would rely messages from different countries. He was not paid in money, but food, and now and then a new coat, boots or gloves.

He stepped out into the snow towards the message booth and looked through the usual downpoor to try and catch a glimpse of the tower. It was his only care in the world, and he didnt even know its significance. It was usually hidden in the torrential cascade of snow, but on occasion its brilliance could be seen towering above mounds of snow, miles away from Richards cabin, and seemed only to be a spectator of his simple life.