Conversation · Bird's Nest Roy

"Officer, the flashlight please."

"If you don't mind, please put the flashlight away. Some of us have photonic sensitivities."

'Photonic sensitivity' is not generally acknowledged by the medical establishment.

[Leave.]

"Textbook narcomaniac behaviour."

"Put the flashlight away, officer. Having it is a privilege, not a right."

"Officer please, I'm serious."

"No, this is my thing." (Keep holding the flashlight.)

"That's the pyrho talking -- there is no flashlight."

"Oh right, sorry about that."

"I do appreciate it."

"Hello hello! Let me know if I can help you with anything."

"I have other business to take care of now." [Leave.]

"Do you have any recordings of the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua?"

"The Col Do Ma Ma Daqua?" He looks at you with astonishment. "Sorry, I would never have guessed that you were that interested in ultrasonic sounds... or birds, for that matter."

"I've been thinking of quitting the RCM and becoming a cryptozoologist."

"How interesting! Well, it's been a while since I've gone hunting for the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua..."

"Once knew a group of young musicians who decided they didn't want to play music anymore and started looking for all kinds of interesting sounds instead..."

"This was before... you know. Lost touch with them after all of that."

"That sounds so cool."

"Cool or not... One of them was obsessed with recording the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua -- and he was one of those passionate people who know a lot about all kinds of strange things, so he got the rest of us to join in his search..."

"And did you ever find it?"

"We thought we did! We got together all these recordings of unusual sound patterns, compared them..." He chuckles. "Cut them up and combined them into the 'Simfonia Col Do Ma Ma Daqua.'"

"Can I listen to it?"

"Unfortunately, I don't have any recordings from my... old life. None at all! But I do have a tape with some ultrasonic sounds that might be what you're looking for." He starts rummaging through some tapes behind the counter.

"Do we really have time for this?" the lieutenant whispers to you.

"Spin that bird song!"

He dusts off a case, then takes out the tape and places it on the tape player. "This recording comes from down the coast... Wasn't looking to record anything specific -- just left a recording device there one morning."

"Keep in mind, I have to slow this one down enough to make sounds well over 200 kHz audible to the human ear... It will be... strange." He switches on the tape player. The speakers begin to emit a low hum....

As the hum grows louder, modulating, but always unnaturally, uncomfortably low, like it's coming not from the speakers, but also from inside your chest. Breathing is becoming difficult...

That's an illusion. Your breathing is just as it was and will remain that way unless you start panicking.

There's a growing sense of dread: the sound is coming from inside you but also surrounding you. It feels as though someone is standing just outside your range of vision and watching you, doing this to you...

He nods to you reassuringly just as more diverse, higher-pitched sounds, some random, some appearing to form patterns, hit your eardrums.

Sea birds, most likely. Gulls and such.

"What's that?"

"Gulls and skuas. But shhhh." He raises a pointer finger and inclines his head toward the speakers. A new, very high-pitched, shivering sound emerges amidst the others.

That's it! The signal in the noise! The "thin whisper"...

The low range of sounds is easier to handle with a focal point, but still troubling. You are mesmerized by the sounds, but also feel nausea welling up as the motif continues, then begins to recede, dissolving in what must be the sound of water lapping at the bank...

He switches off the tape player. "You know, now that I've listened to it on these new speakers -- it's not the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua. Wrong patterns, wrong... photons. Probably some insect trying to sing higher than its predators can hear. Still -- fascinating, aren't they, early morning sounds?"

"Please..." He throws you a long-suffering look. "No more experimental listening while we're on this case."

"Seagulls?"

"And skuas. But shhhh." He raises a pointer finger and inclines his head toward the speakers. A new, high-pitched, shivering sound.

Not good, not good, you're about to start suffocating, you have to stop this...

"Nah, that's okay. It's just that I heard the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua outside the Whirling, and I wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one... Let's talk about something else now."

He looks at you oddly. "Alright," he says, putting the tapes back reluctantly.

"Yes, it's absolutely necessary for my research."

"Hm, that's not very scientific."

"That really wasn't the point. After the 'Simfonia' we moved onto the sounds of office supplies or something like that... and I doubt any of us would have been any good at pushing papers."

"Get to the point. Do you have any recordings now?"

He purses his lips. "I'm not sure. I wasn't even sure about our old recordings, which I no longer have... But I do have a tape with some ultrasonic sounds that might be what you're looking for. Would you like to hear?" He starts rummaging through some tapes behind the counter.

"I have hobbies. Just like all normal people. Because I'm a normal person."

"Oh, I didn't mean to imply otherwise... Well, it's been a while since I've gone hunting for the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua myself..."

"Well, I wouldn't have guessed that you know what the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua is."

"That's fair. I just... It's been a long time since my Col Do Ma Ma Daqua hunting days," he responds with a thin smile. "Once knew a group of young musicians who decided they didn't want to play music anymore and started looking for all kinds of interesting sounds instead..."

"I've been really into all kinds of art lately. Experimental things, you know."

"What an interesting development! Well, it's been a while since I've gone hunting for the Col Do Ma Ma Daqua..."

"I'm looking for a radio transceiver. You got anything?"

"A transceiver, is it? Yeah, we should have something to do the trick..."

He produces a machine encased in a blue bakelite shell, its black face covered in an assortment of pearl-topped knobs and dials.

The lieutenant whistles a long, quivering note...