Surfer's Farewell

Now the little men were changing channels so quickly that the Surfer could barely follow. The screen flicked practically every second. The images were turning into a blur, though the Surfer had an odd feeling that the blur was not meaningless. The audio fused into a pleasant burble punctuated by musical notes.

The changes were coming incredibly fast now, several times a second. Could his TV do this? The light from the screen seemed purer, resolving into absolute reds, greens, and blues. The riffling sound tracks wove into a chant. The Surfer felt himself rising and beginning to move. He was moving down the room. The visitors beckoned to him. They knelt beside the beveled frame and coaxed him along. He went into the light.