Conversation · Suggestion

"They realized that they had discovered a new species -- and called it the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua. After the Perikarnassian name for the voice of god, which is said to be very silent."

"Go on."

"They grew quite obsessed with these little birds -- even though they couldn't see them, they could distinguish among individual birds and," she smiles, "even began to name some of them."

"Name them?"

"Sequester. Thyme. Josquin --" She nods. "Those are but some of the Ma Ma Daqua they followed individually."

"Wow."

"Mhm. They grew quite obsessed with these little birds -- even though they couldn't see them, they could distinguish among individual birds and," she smiles, "even began to name some of them."

"Mhm, song birds."

"What does it, um, sound like?"

"Like nothing. It's such a high-pitched sound that us humans can't hear it -- nor can other animals. It could be ringing right outside your window -- and you wouldn't even know it! It could be anywhere -- everywhere, even..."

"Fine I'll bite." The lieutenant looks at her sceptically. "How can an animal be a sound?"

"Many scientists have asked the same question -- some have claimed that it isn't itself a sound, but a tiny corpuscle that emits sound waves. But there's no evidence to support this theory."

"But how can an animal be a sound?"

"Why is the Ma Ma Daqua so afraid of us?"

"That is a sad story." She frowns. "A group of university students assisting with the field work, in their enthusiasm for the project and, no doubt, because they were preoccupied with impressing their professors, nearly drove it to extinction."

"Extinction?"

She nods gravely. "They tried to communicate with it, and had no other means but sound. So they started sending out sound waves at frequencies they thought might match the Ma Ma Daqua's. And what happens when a sound wave meets another sound wave of the same frequency, dear?"

This lady really should be a teacher. She's really good at the explaining things thing.

Psst. They cancel each other out.

You have no clue because you're not a DWEEB.

"They amplify each other."

"No, dear. They cancel each other out. And these tests were performed so recklessly that when they happened upon the right frequency... well, they wiped out most of the population."

Great regret washes over her. A wending cloth.

"After that, the corpuscle appears to have migrated elsewhere. There have been recordings of anomalies similar to those spotted in Ea -- but they've been few and far between. It's impossible to confirm the presence of any stable Col Do Ma Ma Daqua population anywhere."

"Of course. A common thread in these -- disappearance and unfalsifiability..." He concedes: "I liked the story, though, ma'am."

"I'm glad you did, dear." She seems genuinely glad.

"I don't know... Do I look like a dweeb?"

"No, dear. But this is basic physics... Oh, sorry, there I go assuming..." She looks flustered for a moment, her eyes full of mute apology, then she recomposes herself. "At any rate, these tests..."

"...they were performed so recklessly that when they happened upon the right frequency... well, they wiped out most of the population."

"They cancel each other out."

"Exactly... And these tests were performed so recklessly that when they happened upon the right frequency... well, they wiped out most of the population."

"I don't know."

"Well, dear -- they cancel each other out. And these tests were performed so recklessly that when they happened upon the right frequency... well, they wiped out most of the population."

"A whisper light and low..."

"Yes, that's another translation." Her eyes light up behind her glasses. "They're both quite lovely, aren't they?"

"Although the 'low' part is a little ironic -- the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua makes, or, rather, is such a high-pitched sound that other animals, including humans, can't hear it. It could be everywhere, all of the time -- and we wouldn't know."

"Interesting. What about..." (Conclude.)

She smiles gently. "What about what?"

"Could it be here?" (Look around.) "Right now?"

"It could be," she says calmly. "As I said, it could be everywhere, and we wouldn't know any better. It could be ringing all the days of our lives -- and nights."

Maybe it's predatory?

"What if it's predatory?"

"It's not. Don't worry. If it were predatory we would have found it by the damage it inflicts."

I wouldn't be so sure. What if the damage is also invisible?

"Of course. All fairy tales have someone or something invisible in them."

"Shush, Kim, she's gonna tell me about the invisible cryptid. What is it?"

"It's the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua," the woman corrects her glasses. "Its name means 'thin whisper of sound'. And that's precisely what it is -- self-replicating sound waves, invisible and intangible! The Col Do Ma Ma is very afraid of us, which makes it incredibly difficult to track..."

"You're right Kim, it's childish, but I need to know."

"Okay. I won't spoil your fun," the lieutenant concedes. "What is the invisible cryptid?"

"What an interesting question! And the answer is: yes, there are!"

"Is this bird a cryptid?" (Point to the tie she gave you.)

"No." Her eyes narrow mysteriously. "It's the cryptid."

"Wow. The cryptid?"

"Oh yes." The small silvery skull shines between your fingers, its beak sharp.

"Okay. What is this bird?"

"The eight-eyed teratorn, the largest flying avian ever discovered -- with a wingspan of 11.5 metres. It was thought to have gone extinct 3,500 years ago, some even doubted the fossils were real. A mutation, they said. Until..."

"Until?"

"Until it was sighted by renowned Gottwaldian explorer and naturalist Uwe Plattenkalk in '21."

This renown seems a bit dubious -- your own catalogue comes up completely empty, but -- of course -- you are not all knowing.

"Okay. Not now, let's back up a notch."