This is the room where I have been held captive for the last 3+ years. It’s generously called the “multimedia studio”, but it’s actually a box with a door. The walls are “soundproof,” though I can hear people outside the room when they breath loudly, let alone talk, or, God forbid, laugh. Still, all the audio podcasts are being recorded in here. Until recently, video was being taped here as well, but we moved that part into a bigger space a floor below. At my desk there are no drawers—there’s no room for them. My “office” is tucked away from the editorial newsroom, so it’s easy to forget it’s there at all. And that I’m there. So I live my half-existence as a kind of a friendly ghost that people like to see occasionally, though not too often, judging how rarely someone comes by. The pictures on the wall are of the people who recorded their voices in here. They make the room less empty, and me less lonely.
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