Conversation · Soona, the Programmer

Cracks appear on the stained glass window. Cracks run up the wooden pillars in the dark...

"COME DOWN TO US! LOVE!"

Below it all the bass grows, like the jaws of a giant compressor gnawing on metal and wood. It does not sound benevolent at all.

It's shaking the building's foundation. The floor twists...

A great PULSE arises in your flesh...

"That's it, I'm muting it!" She reaches for the keyboard...

"Everybody, don't panic, it's beautiful!"

"BEAUTIFUL CORE, BEAUTIFUL LIFE!"

"Shit, it doesn't stop!" The woman is furiously pressing down on her keyboard -- but the sound doesn't stop. "Acele, have you...?"

"Yes, I've turned it off!" She yells, holding the contact mic in her hand.

THE MIC IS NOTHING. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE MIC.

"Andre, pull the compressor! The place is gonna come down..."

"Fuck..." Andre frantically smashes buttons. "I can't shut it up, the signal's passed... It's not in here! It's..."

In the mixing desk now. Building into a positive feedback loop.

THIS IS IT. A great roar, the vault of the roof twists above you, glass shatters somewhere near the door... it's coming down.

"Egg Head! It's in the desk!"

And then it stops. Totally and utterly -- as if there never was a sound. Only your ears still ring from the shock. Everybody is staring at Egg Head -- holding a dangling cable in his hand. A black three-pin connector.

"Egg..."

"I pulled the plug," he says, calmly. "It was getting too hard core."

"You did good, Egg..." Andre breathes a sigh of relief and inspects the window. "Most of the place seems to be intact. Fucking L... Programmer-lady, tell me you were recording that!"

"Four years..." the woman whispers. "Twenty two people, millions of reáls... All that time this is what we were up against? Just erased it..." Her lip trembles. "Sulisław isn't gonna believe this."

"Yeah, but did you record it though? It was dope, I think we can use it."

"Yes, Andre." She composes herself -- wipes the dust off her sweater and rests her hands on the keyboard. "I recorded it. Damn, I need to send some letters now..."

"Thank you all for doing this. Egg Man, you too. And you, officer." She turns to you. "I don't know what we've discovered, but I know what it sounds like now. That's a start."

"What was that? I've never heard anything like that."

"It was mathematical information -- from the anomaly -- presented as a waveform. That's what it was technically -- theoretically..." She shakes her head.

"I have no idea. I've never even heard of anything like this."

Her voice seems muffled in the silent church. It's your ears adjusting after the exposure.

"Kim, did you hear that?"

"It was very hard not to. I think you're right," he turns to the woman. "There is something going on here -- and you need to be very careful with it."

"I promise, officer. We will not play it again."

"What happens now. Are you going to..." (Conclude.)

"Stay here," she cuts you off, her deft fingers already on the keyboard. "I am going to stay here with these lunatics, send letters, maybe meet Sulisław... Also devise further measurements."

"I want you to know that's totally chill with us."

"I don't care," she blurts, then reconsiders: "But thank you anyway."

That's the best she can manage for Andre. It's quite a lot, in truth. For her, at least.

"Now..." Her hands move on the keyboard. "I have a theory to come up with. Some kind of preliminary explanation to all this, or the letter will sound like I've lost my mind..."

"Yes. And we have to get back to stabilizing Martinaise..." He breathes out, trying to shake off tension. "Instead of demolishing it with loud bass noise of unknown origins."

Some tiny hard thing lets go in your stomach. You're still alive.

You have an explanation for all this. Somewhere deep in you -- you know. The person you were knows.

You have an explanation for all this. Somewhere deep in you -- you just don't have the pieces yet.

You don't know enough about the world. But that Joyce -- if you knew all she knows, could put it together...

"You're going to write Sulisław?"

"Yes. Our lead designer. And maybe some of the producers too. And some of the writers, if they're sober enough to open a transmission. They need to hear..."

That it wasn't her fault. Or theirs.

"They need to hear about this. Don't worry, I won't send the recording -- although I doubt they have the speakers to produce the frequency anyway..."

And then it stops. Totally and utterly -- as if there never was a sound. Only your ears still ring from the shock. Everybody is staring at Egg Head -- holding a dangling cable in his hand. A black three-pin connector.

"Egg Head -- whatever you do, don't stop it!"

But then it stops. Totally and utterly -- as if there never was a sound. Only your ears still ring from the shock. Everybody is staring at Egg Head -- holding a dangling cable in his hand. A black three-pin connector.

But then it stops. Totally and utterly -- as if there never was a sound. Only your ears still ring from the shock. Everybody is staring at Egg Head -- holding a dangling cable in his hand. A black three-pin connector.

"Egg Head?! Can you stop it?"

"OH, I WANT TO DANCE WITH SOMEBODY!" (Start tapping your foot.)

"OH, I WANT TO FEEL THE HEAT WITH SOMEBODY!"

"Yeah, we should stop. Soona, mute it!"

"It was... it was in me at first..."

"I've never heard anything this hard core in my life!"

In the silence, a low hum starts creeping up your spine. It's a song inside you -- not in the speakers, not in the room. A great bass sigh in the basement of your mind. Slowly it builds, until the air around you starts to vibrate.

"Uh, hold on for a moment..."

"What?"

"Maybe we shouldn't do this. It's too dangerous. On maximum volume too..."