For the people of the Lower City, every day was much the same.
The owner of the Minotaur Tavern thought so too.
So when he opened his doors and saw a dense crowd outside, he jumped in fright.
"Whoa! What are you doing? It's morning, not evening! It's not time to drink yet!"
"Who cares about drinking, boss?"
Unlike the thoroughly confused owner, the customers looked positively frantic.
"Quick, quick, let us in! You have one of those... radios, right? Turn it on!"
As they spoke, the customers swarmed inside, leaving the owner staring at them in bewilderment. His tavern did have a radio, but strictly speaking, it was stolen property. His nephew had discovered the smuggled goods while arresting a criminal, then reported the radio as destroyed and secretly brought it to the owner, saying it would attract customers.
Radios were no longer rare in Fog City, but they were still beyond the means of most people in the Lower City. The owner treasured his radio and worried constantly that someone might break it. If he hadn't had a policeman for a nephew, the gangs would probably have stolen it long ago.
Seeing so many people enter, the owner nervously retreated behind the counter, first shielding his precious radio behind him, then turning it on. Only then did the customers crowding the bar relax a little.
"What's gotten into you? Why are you all here listening to the radio instead of going to work this early in the morning? There's nothing but news at this hour. Nothing worth listening to."
"Hey, the news is exactly what we're here for!"
"Haven't you heard, boss?"
Seeing the owner's puzzled expression, a regular took advantage of the broadcast not having started yet to explain.
"Something huge happened last night! Loads of police