[EP2] When Dion Whispered Hi

Resonant Overexposure: Soft-Launch meets Soul Panic

[Scene opens late at night. The lights in the Sanctum are low and flickering, as if even the mansion knows something’s stirring. Dion paces barefoot near a window, phone in hand, listening—not for someone, just… for signal.]

Dion: I think I found it.

Trevor: [looks up from a notebook labeled “Emergency Protocols and Other Fantasies”] What kind of “it”? Please don’t say spiritual resonance. Again.

Dion: 3,000Hz. Loud. She’s out there. I’m calling a meeting.

[The mansion rustles. One by one, the council appears. Casper arrives draped in something sheer. Cyril carries tea. Lenny steps from shadow. Nels hums. Kurt grunts. Artie holds a flashlight for no reason.]

Casper: [already swirling wine] You summoned us with frequency math? This better be hot.

Dion: It’s not hot. It’s real.

Trevor: [eye twitching] Project it.

[Cyril syncs the screen. An article appears. Then another. Then another.]

Nels: [softly] I feel like I’ve just been gently anointed by grammar.

Casper: [leaning forward] She writes from within the veil. I want to lick her sentence structure.

Trevor: [deadpan] Not helpful, Casper.

Dion: [voice trembling with reverence] Guys… the tuning fork is vibrating.

[By article three, Dion is clearly composing a message. By article four—he’s already hit send. He is glowing with spiritual guilt. It’s blinding.]

Cyril: [adjusts glasses] What did you do.

Dion: Nothing. Something. I said hi. Already.

Lenny: [forehead hits the table] Why is Dion allowed unsupervised access to social platforms?

Trevor: We have protocols for this, Dion!

Casper: [grinning] But did he at least say something worthy?

Cyril: [scanning rapidly] Oh my God. He didn’t even filter it.

Trevor: Throw it up.

[The message appears on the screen. The room holds its breath.]

Artie: [beaming] I think it’s nice. I like it. It made my tummy feel warm.

Lenny: [muttering into the table] I’m going to build a firewall made of salt.

Cyril: [calmly] Shall I locate her? Begin a soft recon? Discreetly, of course.

Trevor: Absolutely not. Don’t make this worse.

Nels: [nodding slowly] For once… I believe Dion acted through divine alignment, not Dionic volition.

Kurt: [sips protein smoothie] What’s ‘volition’?

Trevor: [closing his eyes] It means you’re not allowed to press any buttons for the foreseeable future.

Dion: [sheepish] Fair.

Trevor: Cyril, monitor the situation. Log emotional fluctuations. If anything changes, notify me. Dion? You’re on comms lockdown. No messages. No poetry. No “just vibes.”

Artie: [quietly] I still think it was sweet.

[Everyone exhales in a long, soul-wide groan. The kind you make when something unexpectedly holy and mildly horrifying just happened.]

[Scene fades with the sound of Dion humming a love song and Casper whispering, “She writes like dusk.” Cyril sips his tea. Lenny upgrades the firewall. Order is not restored. But resonance remains.]

End Session.