The Televised Gate at Elmwood

In 1960's manicured cul-de-sacs, a humming living-room television splits open like an atom. It becomes a rift traveled by ragged 'portal jumpers'—exhibit-hall vagabonds, amateur physicists and haunted GI veterans—who chase snarling interdimensional beasts back through flickering channels. Suburban PTA moms, station-wagon dads and Civil Defense sirens conspire in jittery alliances, mistaking heroism for hysteria. The chronicle reads like a comic-strip fever dream: atomic anxieties, transistor radios, and frozen lawns turned battlegrounds, where conformity and paranoia threaten to swallow salvation whole, unless the jumpers can close the Televised Gate.