This is Cast of Wonders, the young adult fiction podcast featuring stories of the fantastic. Welcome. Episode 640. I'm Catherine Inskip, your editor and host. Today, Cast of Wonders is bringing you another episode in our Summer Spotlight series of award-nominated authors. We'll mostly be focusing on the nominees for the Lodestar and Astounding Awards.
The Astounding Award recognises new authors in their first two years of professional publishing. This year's nominees include the wonderful Angela Liu, who you might recall from episode 572, The Time Traveller's Cookbook. Today's story by Angela is Kowsu, the last moving country in the world, which was first published in Dark Matter magazine in July 2023.
Angela Liu is a Chinese-American writer slash poet who writes about intergenerational trauma and weird things. She is a two-time Nebula Award finalist and Astounding Award nominee. Her work has also been nominated for the Hugo, Ignite and Riesling Awards. She used to research mixed reality storytelling at Keio University in Japan.
Her stories and poems are published in Clarksworld, Strange Horizons, Uncanny Magazine, Lightspeed, Interzone, Digital and Logics, among others. Check out more of her work at lew-angela.com or find her on Twitter slash Instagram at lew underscore Angela, and on bluesky at angelalu.bsky.social. This story is narrated by Sophie Barker.
Sophie Barker studied to become a doctor, but was rescued by translation before there was too much damage done. She has worked with authors such as Lucy Taylor, Priya Sharma and Kelly Robson in bringing their work to Spanish readers. She's very lucky to be surrounded by a great community of literary friends that keep reminding her that she is loved. She lives in Madrid, but her Scottish blood keeps calling her to Edinburgh.
You can find her fangirling about one female writer or another on social media at S underscore A underscore Barker. One content warning for today's episode for violence and eye trauma. And now we've a tale to tell. Kaosu, the last moving country in the world. I arrive at Kaos' nest-shaped visitor center two hours early for boarding procedures.
the reviews and voyage advisor warned of the rabid fans and shameless paparazzi but i'm still not prepared for all the selfie drones skittering around the check-in screens like frenzied moths
Today, the crowds swell with people in pest masks, school makeup, and screaming fans with heart signs that read, Marry me in the radioactive fields. Pity Patty, a top 50 influencer, the queen of dark tourism and rumoured stem cell junkie will be joining the train this week just my luck i write for faye's compendium of good travels founded during the post-plague travel boom
We've got a readership of over three million, the most trusted guide in solo travel. Chaos, who's the holy grail of travel writing these days,
the last perpetually moving country on the planet, and I'm only here because of a strategically taken office video my boss never wants to see the light of day. At immigration kiosk number 3, a horse mask clerk takes my photo and then hands me my new id card unlike the shiny gold ones that kaosu's permanent residence have these are ugly adorned with barcode streaked printouts of our faces
do not stand in the photo area a lion mask security guard ushers me along for those eager to confirm whether or not kaosu is inhabited by aliens you're out of luck Cowshoe workers are never allowed to show their faces. My phone rings with a series of too late, too early messages from my over-worried mother. Did you pack your passport? Bring a couple of oranges, that'll setter your stomach.
Don't forget to pack a few masks just in case. How are your neighbors? Did you bring the pepper spray just in case? I respond with an all-purpose thumbs-up emoji and a photo of the gay before the security guard.
ominously pantomimes a slashing motion over his throat with a gloved hand. Cut it out. No photos allowed. The boarding car smells like a rich lady's bath. Orange peel, jasmine tea... hints of lavender an elephant masked attendant hands me a small welcome bag inside there's a purple jumpsuit uniform to make it clear who is a visitor non-slip slippers a one-time complimentary ticket to the Dreampods, and a headset so we can get the country's announcements and radio channels.
the entree network broadcasts over a hundred music comedy educational children's and spoken theatre channels but no outside news for nearly two hundred years Kaosu has never received a single outside broadcast. Greetings, girls and boys. Pity Patty here on the train that never sleeps. That's right, I'm here again in the birthplace of the dream pod and the world's tallest cremation light show, Kaosu. For the newbies, here's a quick rundown.
Kaosu's got 20 miles of space-grade metal trains, months select quality dining, and the hottest waiters without faces. It takes a whooping four days to go from the visitor center to the terminal station. with only one stop in between, where no one can get off. The fault to build this place literally woke up in an abandoned town and thought the end of the world was raging on outside. So what did I do?
walled off the place and built a train that could keep moving even through an apocalypse. For all of you sexy Instagram influencers looking for that million-like shot, Kaosu's main draw is its Cliff Auroras. This isn't the kiddie fireworks show they have at the New Disney Antarctica. Visible only from the country's highest mountain and 6,500 meters above sea level, it is sometimes described as looking into God's eyes.
So what's the real draw of Kaosu? The cleaver auras? The sleekest dream parts on the market? The hallucinogenic dining? No, no, no, no. Kaosu is on the top of every true dark tourist list for one reason and one reason only. But first, a word from our sponsors.
at sundown the dining car is a sea of purple jumpsuits red-faced students swirling champagne flutes couples are slicing into marble meats all men passing gift bags to women young enough to be their daughters i take a seat near the massive window and order a pot of green tea that arrives on a crystal tray that looks more expensive than my entire office back at faye's compendium
an old woman in a grumpy cat sweater takes a seat across from me mind if i join you she asks with a tea-stained smile i'd love some non virtual company not sure if i'd be much better i smile back i've seen the old woman a few times in the hall during the morning id checks she's a-staying in the cabin next to mine
i've been lullabied to sleep each night by the sounds of her and her husband fighting her working accusations of infidelity him with the old and tired defense but she's just a virtual friend did you come alone she asks feeling my cup steam rising to her face she waves at one of the mask waiters to bring another teacup no my partner just basically lives in the library i lie
oh mine too so what brings you to kaosu my boss owed me i said vaguely never tell anyone you're a writer they always think you're going to turn them into your next story that's nice my husband owes me it cost almost all my longevity credits for a ticket but we're here for his research i was the one who taught him about the last of the moving countries
behind the old woman in a massive water tank a miniature whale swims through the forest of bioluminescent kelp the cacophony of the hole moves around us like schools of silver fish A Foskmas waiter brings her a silver cup and then steps back into the row of other waiters that line the walls like statues.
As the old woman helps herself to my teapot without asking, a girl in a pest mask and black lace dress comes over to our table with a boar head shaped basket stacked with matching masks. Hi. we're having a cliff aurora viewing party in car number seventy two tomorrow sponsored by the one and only pity patty the girl says her monotone voice muffled behind the plastic mask
There's gonna be a Korsdal photo booth with legit dolls from Ping Island, radioactive green hot dogs and prison-themed org doves. Test your dark tourist knowledge when our quiz show for prices. Come in your mask and you'll get your first drink for free. I take the mask she's offering, but the old woman waves her hand as if chewing away a stray cat. My husband likes to keep up with that kind of stuff.
Top 50 and whatnot, the old woman says after the girl migrates to the next table, repeating her spiel. What do you even do with all that information once you have it? Write micro revenue generating articles about it? Sell information packs to paparazzi drones? I've done it all for the longevity credits, for the slight bump up pharmaceutical waiting lists, for the slim possibility my mother will live a few weeks or months longer. The old woman takes a sip of her tea.
Cows are used to be an oasis, but now it's just another checkpoint for the influencers. Everyone taking the same photos, eating the same things, lining up for the same experiences, clamouring for a glance at the cliff auroras like kids seeing the sun for the first time.
what about you i try to smile but she's starting to annoy me what would you recommend doing here instead i'd spend the entire time at the temple she answers without hesitation the temple the second and only stop between the visitors centre and the terminal station where only residents are allowed off the train everyone knows the temple like everyone knows the lost lighthouse of alexandria as a myth I know it as the highest paying job on the freelancer's hot gig list.
A GPS confirmed video of the inside can set a person up for at least a decade in streaming revenue, with enough longevity credits to treat any disaster level ailment from cancer to dementia.
i'd spend enough time calling the hospitals for my mother to know the marker for treatment nowadays would you like to see it the old woman asks picking the teapot up from the tray the dining hall lights dim into black light a bloom of glowing jellyfish dropping into the water tank like silent snowfall at night you could she says we could
there's a knock on my door a few minutes after midnight i roll over on the bed still groggy and wipe the drool from my mouth on the back of my hand a gold car slides in from the bottom of the door along with a note 11.30 a.m. Boarding car. Smile emoji. Someone is sinking drunkenly in the hole.
I put on my headset, turn on the noise cancellation and tune into a channel for relaxing sounds. As the pattern of rain fills my ears, I pull the blanket back over my head, trying to ignore the gold card on the floor. The old lady's crazier than I thought. Everyone's seen the videos of burnt bodies on the feeds. The sensors never take them down, knowing they bring in the eye clicks. Some say it's what causes the cliff auroras on Kaosu.
Who knows? But rules are rules. Guests are not allowed off the train until the terminal station. No exceptions. My phone vibrates. I pat the table by the bed until I find it and then squint at the message on the screen. Doctor says another six-month waitlist for the meds. What time is it at home? Why is mum up? Boss promised longevity credits after this job. You'll be okay, I messaged back, with another thumbs up and sleeping zzzz emojis, and then turned off my phone.
Six months isn't a long time if you really think about it. It's barely enough time to properly bond with a virtual spouse. But it's also more than enough time for a living body to be reduced to ash. How confident was I that my mother would make it without the longevity credits? Why had I lied? Even with the meds, I'd just be delaying the inevitable.
i pull open the curtain and watch the train pummel across the eerie purple landscape gnarled trees half sunk in glossy black pools the moon like an eye in the sky in the distance barely visible The 500 foot basalt wall that surrounded the country stands like a giant curled serpent. Had the people who founded Kaosu really just woken up here?
How far do you need to run before responsibility stops chasing you? Would you build a whole moving country so you could keep running? What the hell am I talking about? I close the curtain and sink back into the bed. turning up the volume of the headset until the rain drowned my thoughts. The next morning I changed out of my jumpsuit and into a white pleated skirt and denim shirt I packed into my overnight bag for the flight back home.
I stick a paper thin body cam to a button on my skirt and snap on the cheap pest mask I got from the pitty patty fan. The beak is too sharp and the sides aren't properly sanded down, but it's all I have. In my pocket I tuck in the gold card from the floor, and after hearing my mother's phantom scolding, I stuff the pepper spray in my other pocket, just in case I need to get away from onboard Kaosu security.
I get to the boarding car at 11.15am, but the old woman's nowhere to be seen. My face itches from the mask. At 11.25am, a chime echoes through the car.
we will soon be arriving at temple station please report to the boarding-card with your resident id three strangers gather near the door each in a different mask a red-cheeked fox a long-chinned goblin and a black crow with a token-sized beak the four of us look like we're on our way to a halloween chase at one of the planners last night's circuses
a pair of teenage girls weigh several feet away in the purple jumpsuits clutching their cameras hoping to catch a glimpse of the station platform the old woman is still nowhere to be seen the train pulls up to a stop and the doors slide open letting in the smell of the rain from outside the fox masked man strikes towards the door and i follow close behind like a fish tagging along behind a shark
seeking cover the teenage girls chuckle gleefully nearby snapping their camera shutters my hands are so wet i could drown everyone here in my sweat the video of the burning buddies playing behind my eyelids with each blink Outside, it's cold and wet, the ground soaked from rain. I follow the other three people to a gate, where a woman in an owl mask and head to toe has met sooth-like vinyl dresses waiting. Is that your mask?
She asked when it's my turn. No, I'm helping with one of the higher-tire influences viewing parties. I can barely breathe, so I'm genuinely surprised you're hearing words are coming out instead of vomit. the party coordinator requests i wear these group masks for the event for the sake of their video footage the woman watches me through her large eye-holes i can see the marble white skin underneath
The capillaries are sparing through the edges of her eyes. She looks like she hasn't seen sunlight or sleep in days. Very well, ID please, she says finally, holding out a white box.
i pull out the gold card from my pocket the white box lights up green as i press the card into it welcome home the woman says with the enthusiasm of a house plan she motions for the next person to step up i follow the chained-off path towards a windowless blue tower there is very little else besides scorched grey fields in every direction and frost-tipped mountains in the far distance none of the three kaosu residents are speaking
white breaths poof out of the sights of everyone's mask like steaming clouds all of us like ghosts at the entrance to the tower a man in a roach-face mask smiles with his eyes hi hi welcome home friends His nasal voice tears through the silence like a swarm of bees. I hope you've all had a productive shift. Alan will see you in the job hall if you're requesting a name change. As always, the dream pods are open for use.
Mina has made several fun adjustments if you haven't tried them out recently. Behind him there are six doors, each opening into a different coloured hall. The crow-masked woman and the goblin-faced man disappeared down the blue corridor. Fox Mask makes no move. I'm overwhelmed by the sense that I've wandered into a high-level video game dungeon without a weapon or a map. Decisions! Decisions! Roach Mask murmurs gleefully.
his hands might i suggest a trip to the kitchens he motions towards the blood-red door the current ice-cream flavor is caramel fingers as imagined by our current temple chef they're almost as good as real he smacks his lips under the mask i enter the yellow door not wanting to be the last one left with rochmask there's an herby scent in the air the hall is daffodil yellow
Neon lights beaming down yellow walls. The yellow floor and ceiling spotless with a mirror glass. I quickly lose track of how long I've walked. It's hard to tell when nothing seems to change.
i cough to remind myself i have a voice that i am in fact still alive but after a while i feel like i am floating across a yellow void my legs no longer my own for a moment i picture my mother in the lights jaundiced color of her sclera, the liver spots on her hands now snaked with blue veins, the bumps of her vertebrae visible through her thin sweater.
how close can a body step toward the gates of death without becoming a corpse she points at me with an accusing finger somewhere distantly i register the sound of laughter glasses clinking the crunch of a saw cutting through something thick my hands ball into fists i spin around to make sure roach mask isn't tailing me with a chainsaw when i turn back i catch sight of someone running ahead through a door an exit i chase after the footsteps pushing through the door the air immediately chills
there are cathedral high ceilings round tables and metal chairs spaced out like a cafe there are no people only seated statues on the chairs did i imagine that person my head still feels like cotton Like I'm floating. I gently slap my cheeks to remind myself I've still got a job to do. Just a quick video, and then back to the... Are you okay? A voice asks.
i spin around fox mask waves at me i feel sick you're not supposed to be here right he says cheerfully chugging up to meet me i saw you in the aquarium dining hall yesterday with some wrinkled old bat you're one of the purple jumpsuits what are you talking about i croak trying unsuccessfully to mask my voice the man suddenly pulls off his mask and i turn away my face flushing as if i'm seeing him naked
I'm not going to report you, he smiled apologetically. I'm not supposed to be here either. The man was a part of a sleep tech research team that was studying the train's dream pots. The girl he had a crush on was a huge Pity Patty and dark tourism fan, so he thought he'd impress her with footage from inside the temple. You sound like an idiot, I say, and I mean it. No amount of adoration is worth being burned.
if you just want a girlfriend there are tons of amazing options on virtual spouse his frown tells me i've offended him so i stop talking we walk the perimeter of the room light filtering down from the skylight of the statues all lack faces there's only the impression of one like a vague hand print left fading in the mud what is this place i ask where they keep the bodies of trespassers before they burn them
The man replies, switching on a live feed camera embedded in a button on his silk vest. Who you're broadcasting to? There's no connections. I'm just taking some video I can edit later. I'm gonna beat Pity Patty's world record of 10 video views for a single video. What about you? He suddenly turns around to study me. What are you doing here anyway? Are you a streamer too? Yeah, something like that.
I say, reaching up to make sure my mask is still on. He walks up to the statues, taking more close-up videos. When he directs the camera at me, I turn my back to him. No footage of me, please, I say. you one of those who think cameras can steal your soul no i say but now i'm considering it sorry i thought it'd be cool to do an interview in here
We'd be like that dude and his water boy who first broke into King Tut's mummy dicks. But you're right, maybe they can track us down later using the video's metadata. He relents, then turns off his camera. There's a confession booth on the opposite end of the room. I peer in through the wooden arched windows. It's bigger on the inside. Aide black, glossy shelled pods are lined up like giant eggs inside a red hall.
Is this your first time? The man asks. First time? To try the dream pots. No, I've done it before. Not a fan, I say. I don't mention how my one experience was in a black alley arcade in Tokyo 6, where a slimy stranger climbed into my pot during my session, claiming to do maintenance. The stuff they got here is gold standard. Nothing like the crap you find in some of these old VR towns. It'll change your opinion in a heartbeat. He waves his gold card at me. And this is our ticket inn.
i don't ask how he got his cold card because i don't want him asking how i got mine are there two mask buddies gagged and stuffed somewhere on the train i wonder where they're dreaming of now the man opens the door to the confessional what are you doing i ask the man switches on his life-fit camera again research he says grinning welcome to unit one the automated voice says as i climb into the cushioned chair inside
I set up mine up for thirty minutes, the man says from the neighbouring pot. There's an auto-cleaning service if you piss your pants. If I what? See you on the other side.
he gives me a salute and the lid slides back over his pod see you on the other side i press the pause button on my panel as soon as the pod lid closes and shrouds me in darkness i sit back trying to relax is not so different from the cheapest airplane seats like a cosy coffin i count up to three hundred more than enough time for the man's pot to properly start up so i can ditch him while he's frolicking around in dreamland twenty-nine
In the dark, your brain can play tricks on you. Time moves differently, your mind the only spotlight, illuminating anything it wants. i see my mother cooking an impossibly large turkey leg that looks more like the size of a human thigh red birds sit in a line of spiked fences a row of teeth grinning in the stormy sky above them two hundred and ninety-eight two hundred and ninety-nine three hundred i remind myself to breathe but the air doesn't come
i slap my hand against the emergency dispatch button on the pod the lid pops open like an air bubble on the surface of a lake a wrinkled face hovers over me its sunken eyes staring down at me like the eye-holes of a skull i stifle a scream as a liver spotted hand reaches in like death himself then i see the grumpy cat sweater the nest of grey-brown hair i was looking all over for you the old lady says with a smile
did you bring your camera yeah i've got it on me i step out and glance around still feeling disoriented from the pod i half expect the man to pop out of his dream pod like a jack in the box and point his livestream camera at us like the surveyor drones. How did you get in here? It wasn't so hard, just like coming home, she says. She hasn't stopped smiling since I opened the lid of my dream pod.
shall we get started she asks motioning vaguely to the body cam on my shirt i wait for her to explain but she just watches me in silence a flash of irritation when i put my pest mask back on first there's no need for that she says they don't survey any of the rooms in the temple you could vanish in here and no one would know where to look i switch the body camera on knowing there was no outside connection, but still feeling better with another pair of digital eyes watching.
Turning on the image stabilizer, I start walking around the confessional, getting closes up the dream pods and the small table next to each one with locked drawers, the blood red walls with symbols I don't understand. When I turn back around, the old woman is so close I can clearly see the brown liver spots on her forehead and cheeks, the sagging skin on her neck. A nice video of the temple fetches a high price, doesn't it?
She says, glancing down at the camera clipped to the middle tortoiseshell button of my denim shirt, as if watching an insect crawl up. But those are just normal top 50 rankings, right? Darknet rankings are more thrilling. Do you know how much they pay for a very specific type of video inside the temple? She asked, her tongue pressing against her upper lip, snail-like. With a useless husband like mine, I could use a couple of extra longevity credits myself.
I don't suppose I could ask you to help another woman out? My first job at FaZe Compendium was to write a freebie manual on travel safety that was bundled with our annual ranking of top 100 places to visit. tip one avoid overly friendly children and all people they are often used as a front to lower your guard the old woman tears the camera clean of my button with a blade that materialised in her hand
It's the same one the Kaosu security staff had at immigration, the one that my boss said can cut straight through metal. The old woman steps forward and raises the camera until it's almost aligned with my eyes. I don't move. I don't even blink. I become one of those stone statues outside in the pseudo cafe from hell. Come now, hasn't anyone taught you about the importance of good showmanship?
the old woman frowns poking the tip of her blade into the collar of my shirt even the slight jab breaks through the denim and pierces the skin underneath i wince and she nods like a jazz connoisseur hearing the start of her favourite piano solo Tip number two. If you find yourself in a dangerous situation, play dead. Physically, but mentally, will work out in some cases until the opportunity for escape presents itself.
the dream pod behind her pops open the man yawning loudly the sound distracts the oar and just long enough for me to slap the blade over her hand it clicks off the ground metal sparking against the tiles Like a bulldozer running on pure adrenaline, I shove her into one of the other pots. Hey, what's going? The man stands, mouth gaping, magnificently useless. The old woman regains her food and kicks me to the floor.
She scrambles for the blade, curls of white hair sticking to her splotchy forehead. Something digs into my leg as I try to stand. The pepper spray from my mother. i pull it from my pocket just in time for the old woman to slice into the aerosol can the gleaming tip barely missing my left eye tip number three anything can be a weapon if you want it to be
As she tries to pull the blade out of the can, I tear off my mask and jam the sharp beak of the pest mask into her right eye. She screams. I scream too, falling back, horrified at what I've done. the man by some miracle moment of lucidity lifts the old woman bleeding and howling and tosses her into the seat of his open dream-pot she swings at him spitting things i don't understand
You're a liar. You're a thief. You're disgusting. I knew it. I should have left you to die. He pulls a pest mask out of her face, blood splattering onto his hands, and slams down the lid of the dream pod. a thirty lights up on the lid before a fluorescent red occupied takes its place i stare at the pulsing word feeling my heart beat in my throat would the old woman make it through the thirty minutes thirty minutes isn't very long
but sometimes it's more than enough time for a whole life to pass by. I glance over at the man. His camera's on button is glowing green.
the train is still at the station when we arrive back at the gate don't already the owl mask woman says studying us behind the eye holes of her mask a sheen of water droplets covering her vinyl dress we have to get back for the influencer party i answer she not convinced or not wanting to be bothered do you think we'll be okay the fosk mass man asked as we get back on the train he's still shaken
I don't blame him. We have our videos, I tell him. That's what matters. Go buy that girl you like a nice dinner with the money. Yeah, you're right, he says, but he's not really hearing me.
i wonder if his mind is still in that yellow hole still running the train lets out a gush of gas and stream as the engine starts up again the door closing the floor rumbles and the train starts to pull out of the station as we make our way through the cars from the window i watch as the temple that blue tower slowly becomes just a vertical gash on the white horizon
as i unlock the door to my cabin with my id card my heart thrums when the man stops in front of the old woman's cabin wow didn't know we were neighbours all this time he says I watch his hand fidget over the livestream camera on his shirt until he finds the ID card in his breast pocket. Welcome back, sweetie, a familiar girlish virtual voice says from the camera. It's done.
She's finally gone, he says, unlocking the door, and greens. I don't say anything in return as he enters the cabin and closes the door behind him. Out the window, in the distance, I see the billows of smoke from the terminal station, but before that, a blinding aurora of lights. When this story first came through the slush pile, a lot of readers immediately thought of Snowpiercer. It's not just a setting of a train or other vehicle, of course, though there are other good examples of those.
the Mortal Engines series or Mievel Zion Council, but what the train or vehicle as city represents, a closed system exploration of the state. I'm a big fan of E&M Banks' fearsome engine and the bridge for this, and for a fantasy version, I'll always go back to Gormenghast. In these closed systems the individual is often in immediate conflict, either with the setting's rules or its social hierarchies.
This story gives us a two-tier system of residents and passengers, masks and jumpsuits, and a have versus have not battle for love and longevity. It's a world where long, bright futures are bought by the wealthy. while everyone else ekes through on second-hand voyeurism. The story also does more than a hint at the dark underbelly of the ennui of the rich.
By the end of this piece, our protagonist has perhaps got what she needs to give her mother a little more time, but she is also very much fueling the same system that keeps her in her place. Join us again soon. We love bringing you the best audio fiction week after week, but we can't do it without your support. Your donations pay our authors, our narrators, our servers and our staff.
Please consider supporting us with a monthly donation through either PayPal or Patreon. You can also review us on Apple Podcasts, request us on Spotify, and consider the stories we publish for award consideration. There are lots of ways you can help. You can join the discussion on the EA Discord and visit us on Blue Sky at castofwonders.org. Come say hello. Cast of Wonders is brought to you by editor Catherine Inskip.
assistant editor Alicia Caporasso, associate editors Rebecca Ahn, Tanya Adelit, Amy Brennan, Kappa Cobb, Becca Miles, Ray Oh, Samuel Poots, Emma Smales, Denise Soudel and Rin Yee. Our editorial assistant is Amy Brennan, and our audio producer is Jeremy Carter. Cast of Wonders is part of the Escape Artists Foundation. a 501c3 non-profit, and this episode is distributed under the Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial No Derivatives 4.0 International Licence.
That means you can download or listen to the episode on any device you like, but you can't change it or sell it. Our theme music is Appeal to Heavens by Alexey Nov, available from Promo DJ or his Facebook page. Thank you for listening.