A dear friend read what I had posted so far and said, “You’ve been listening to a lot of Shooter Jennings and Hierophant—especially Black Ribbons.” He wasn’t wrong.
That album was the soundtrack in my head when this story first started to take shape. There’s something about the desperation, the defiance, and the haunted whisper of resistance woven through that record that just fit. Signal Drift lives in that same space—the space between collapse and refusal. Between static and signal.
This story is loosely based on me. Not beat-for-beat, but in spirit. And yeah, in real life, I use a wheelchair. But in my head—when I’m dreaming, writing, or drifting—the chair isn’t there. That’s the world I’m building here. One where the limitations don’t get to speak. One where I get to ask: What would I do if nothing held me back?
You’ll notice the name Cronauer. That’s no accident. It’s a tribute, a purposeful theft. If you know Good Morning, Vietnam, you already get it. If not—Adrian Cronauer was the kind of person who used a microphone to tell the truth, even when the world didn’t want to hear it. That spirit lives on here, long after the original broadcast faded out.
You’ll also see real names throughout this story—though not all of them. Some have been changed, either because of outside circumstances or because someone directly asked not to be used in the chapters. Still, every character in this story is based, in some way, on a real person—someone I respect, someone who’s shaped me, stood by me, challenged me, or inspired me. Even the ones with changed names still carry the spirit of someone who’s mattered in my life.
Before the prologue, you’ll find a set of character notes and location references. These will grow as the story expands. So if you ever need to remember who someone is, where a road leads, or how a voice fits into the bigger signal, you can always come back to those pages and find your way again.
And if you’re wondering who I am—I’m Lucas Osmond. That part’s true. But in everything I do—on my radio show Rolling with Scissors, on the blog, on the airwaves—I go by something else. A little rebellion. A little inside joke. A little truth:
Lucas, the Prince of Darkness
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