An Original Science Fiction Audio Drama
Entangled At A Distance is a solo-produced original science fiction audio drama. Every aspect of the project - the writing, voice performance, audio production, sound design, artwork, web development, and business operations - is handled by a single creator.
The first story arc in the Entangled At A Distance universe is The Last Keepers, built on speculative science that challenges accepted physics. It is a story about what discovery does to people. Beneath the science are real relationships, buried histories, ethical dilemmas, and stewardship decisions that land on people no one consulted, no one appointed, and no one prepared.
What does a disparate group of new acquaintances do with something impossible, when you’re the first to find it and the last person you want making the decision is someone else?
Entangled At A Distance is not researched isolation. It is remembered isolation. The rhythms of distance, duty, fragile communication, and creative problem-solving with limited resources are drawn directly from a childhood spent on a working lighthouse station on Lake Superior, long before automation and tourism turned those outposts into heritage sites.
That foundation shapes everything in this project: the way characters handle silence, the weight of responsibility without backup, and the particular kind of trust that forms when the nearest help is hours away and the weather is not asking permission. This is science fiction built on first-hand understanding, not inherited nostalgia.
Entangled At A Distance begins as an audio drama but has been designed from the start to expand across formats as the universe grows. Graphic novels, novelizations, visual media, and interactive storytelling are all on the roadmap. The medium may change; the depth won't.
This site is the central command station for the entire EAD universe. All content, community, commerce, and communications run through here. No third-party platforms standing between the work and its audience.
The creator of Entangled At A Distance was born on Trowbridge Island Light Station on Lake Superior in 1975, the year the Edmund Fitzgerald sank. From March to November every year, home was an island beyond sight of any civilization. That life continued until age 14, when Porphyry Point Light Station was automated and the last staffed lights on the Canadian side of Superior went dark.
That makes the creator one of a small number of people still living who grew up in the last generation of working lighthouse keepers. Not the modern ground keepers who maintain heritage sites for tourists, but the last generation who lived separated from society, serving a necessary role. The family was featured in a CBC documentary produced by Heartland with Sylvia Tyson during the 1980s.
Generations of lighthouse and station keepers learned, by necessity, every skill their post demanded. Mechanics, electricians, medics, communicators, navigators. Not masters of any one trade, but capable enough at all of them to keep the station running. Whatever the post needed, the keeper became. That same approach carries into this project. Writing, performing, editing, designing, coding, composing: all of it is one person's work. Not because help isn't welcome, but because the story demanded to exist before the infrastructure to support a team did. A keeper keeps. That's the job.
The advent of AI tools has been a significant accelerator for the production workflow. Not as a replacement for creative work, but as the kind of capable assistant that lets a solo operation move at a pace that would have been impossible a few years ago. Transparency matters here. Read more about how AI is used in this project.
Humanity is expanding across the solar system, but only just. Standardized travel between Earth and Mars is routine, and orbital stations circle both worlds and the Moon. Beyond that corridor, the frontier thins quickly. Outposts at the fringe operate with unreliable supply lines, intermittent communication, and the kind of deep disconnection that early lightkeepers would recognize. Corporate interests control most of the established infrastructure, and two megacorporations maintain an uneasy partnership built on mutual self-interest and mutual suspicion.
In the margins of this corporate order, station keepers maintain a seven-generation tradition that traces back to lighthouse keepers on the Great Lakes. They operate with independence, ethical stewardship, and a quiet refusal to be absorbed into the corporate machine.
Beneath the surface, a growing resistance movement uses distributed technology and democratic principles to push back against systems that have turned basic human needs into profit centers.
And somewhere in the deep black, evidence of something ancient is about to surface. Something that will force every faction to reconsider what they think they know about the cosmos, about technology, and about what it means to be human.
Different readers want different things from science fiction. Here is what this story actually offers, depending on what matters to you.
The Last Keepers is about people in a pressure cooker of duty, secrecy, and isolation who slowly become more to each other than colleagues. The science fiction matters, but the heart of the story is whether people can trust each other enough to build something lasting when everything around them rewards control, caution, and silence.
The Last Keepers follows keepers, physicists, and network builders as they encounter an anomaly that forces them to rethink the rules they thought they understood. It is grounded in detailed systems, plausible processes, and a discovery that unfolds through observation, debate, and engineering rather than magic or hand-waving.
A blackout at a remote station, altered records, suspicious corporate behaviour, and a discovery that keeps widening into something larger. The Last Keepers is a layered mystery where every answer creates a better question. The story is built around secrets, missing context, and the uneasy sense that several factions know more than they are saying.
This story is for readers who want mutual pining, awkward honesty, and the slow, believable growth of trust between people who keep trying to be competent instead of vulnerable. The romantic thread is not the whole story, but it is one of the forces that makes the story human.
This is a story of stations, governance, inherited work, and societies trying to survive without becoming cruel. The Last Keepers explores corporate power, communal ethics, and the competing ways people organize care, labour, and truth in deep space.
The Last Keepers asks what responsibility looks like when a discovery is too important to ignore but too powerful to trust to the wrong hands. It is about stewardship versus ownership, and about whether a civilization proves itself by what it can seize or by what it can protect.
The immediate roadmap: produce and release the audio drama in seasonal arcs. Build the codex as a living reference that grows with the story. Establish a community that has genuine input into the direction of the universe. And do all of it from this station, independently owned, independently operated.
The long-term vision is an IP with the depth and breadth to stand alongside the science fiction universes that shaped a generation of storytelling. That ambition is deliberate. The lore is built for it. The characters are built for it. The science is built for it. Whether it gets there is up to the work and the audience, but the foundation isn't leaving anything on the table.
The EAD universe is built for its audience to explore, discuss, and create within. Fan art, fan fiction, concept designs, theory crafting, and stories set in this universe are encouraged and genuinely welcomed. The best community contributions may even find their way into the official canon, credited, with the contributor's involvement.
But the creative direction of the IP stays with its creator. Canon is what appears in official releases. Community content lives alongside the official universe and is celebrated on its own terms, but it doesn't become part of the canon unless it's formally incorporated through direct collaboration. That's not a wall. It's stewardship. It keeps the universe coherent, intentional, and honest.
See the FAQ for more on contributing, or the Legal Notice for the full policy.
This site runs on a custom framework by FolioGraphic — the same platform that powers FanCraft, a fandom-focused artisan brand that shares the same creative DNA. No third-party platforms. No subscription services standing between the work and its audience. One system, one creator, full control.
Questions, feedback, collaboration interest, press inquiries. The comms are open.