Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy

Audio

April 17th 2017 in Microfiction

“The visual display is stunning,” Patton said, his voice tinged with awe. “The detail … incredible.” Murphy nodded. “The range is unprecedented; we don’t think the Hubble can beat this.” “And you say that the lenses … ” Patton trailed off, transfixed. “Are organic and gel-based; the material configures itself and solidifies when coordinates are entered.” “Astounding,” Patton whispered. “The real benefit to the new array is the audio potential,” Murphy added. “Audio?” Patton said, turning around (with his eyes wide). “Yes,” Murphy confirmed. “We can at last capture the music of the spheres.” He walked over to the console and opened the channel; static background noise filled the space, then shifted to form a complex and delicate symphony of sound – as if Bach had written something for woodwinds played through blades of grass. Patton stood, open-mouthed and silent. “It’s different for everyone,” Murphy said, smiling. “The lenses are also the audio filters and they … adjust in response to the receiver.” “It’s reading me?” Patton whispered. “In a way. We’re all just star stuff; we all have an energy signature … and a key, if you will,” Murphy answered just as quietly. “What does your music sound like?” Patton asked, turning to his friend. “Like Metallica played on bottles of glass,” Murphy replied with a happy shrug.




required



required - won't be displayed


Your Comment:

(alarm)
action: investigate alarm * /// smoke
analyze * /// fire

audio report * /// incident at Level 0.3 (containable)

(audio response)

record * /// “never mind”

analyze * /// possible user error

(audio response)

record * /// “cigarette”


record * /// “(laughter) (second party)”

record * /// “J.A.R.V.I.S doesn’t like you smoking (second party)”
analyze * /// user error * no escalation path

(audio response)

record * […]

Previous Entry

The child awoke screaming. “I’m right here! I’m right here!” yelled the mother, running down the hall. She threw open the door to see the rumpled bed and the tear-streaked face, the finger pointing to the corner of the room. “It’s all right,” the mother cooed. “It’s going to be all right.” “Is everything all […]

Next Entry