The town of Overtun, Maine, is bleeding out. The paper mill is a rusted skeleton, and the only thing still working overtime is the local liquor store. For Billy Landry, a disgraced DJ three months into a shaky sobriety, the graveyard shift at W-OVR is a quiet place to hide from the ghosts of his past. But tonight, the airwaves are turning wet. The music is shriveling into a rhythmic pulse—a "e;Wet Static"e; that tastes like copper and sounds like teeth grinding in a dark room. It isn't just noise; it's a colonization. Something ancient and hungry is using Overtun's collective trauma as a hard drive, "e;archiving"e; the townspeople into a digital afterlife where the laws of physics pixelate and gravity is a suggestion. When Casey Miller, a mechanic who trusts steel more than people, hears her long-dead father's voice calling from her engine block, she realizes the past has found a new frequency. To stop the "e;Blue Man"e;—a spindly entity rewriting the town's DNA—Billy must face a terrifying truth: his family wasn't just haunted; they were the Keepers of the Valve. As a black, crystalline snow begins to fall and the "e;Midnight Broadcast"e; approaches, Billy has to make a choice. He can drown the world in his own failures, or he can become the grounding wire for a town's soul. In Overtun, the truth doesn't set you free. It just changes your bit-rate.