13 Days Until Christmas
14 Days Until Abduction
In April of 1977, Whitley and Anne Strieber had been living in a small apartment on West Fifty-fifth Street in Manhattan for seven years. Though Whitley had experienced many anomalous things in his life, they had not yet shared many unusual encounters. The visitors would not become an overt presence in their lives for another decade.
One afternoon, as they sat in their living room listening to a record, an unfamiliar voice began to issue from one of the stereo speakers. The voice was clear and steady. It seemed to belong to a man in his thirties or forties. It said Whitley’s name twice.
Startled, Strieber asked, “Who are you?”, though he must have realized that two-way communication via stereo speaker was impossible.
“I know who you are,” the voice replied. “I know you’re married. Hello, Anne.”
“Who are you?” Strieber asked again, growing angry.
The voice said, “I know something else about you.” Then it was silent.
A couple of days later, still angered by the voice, Strieber phoned the FCC to complain of interference. He suspected a prank by a neighbour. He was told that a conversation of the sort he described was not possible; stereos could occasionally pick up radio transmissions from police cars or cabs, but you could not carry on a discussion unless there was a microphone in the speaker. Strieber checked, and couldn’t find one.