I reluctantly make my way back to the house. I take a deep breath at the front door and walk in. I try and head towards the center of the ground floor, which turns out to be the kitchen. The emotions behind the noise are so intense that it’s hard to focus. I scan for all the sources of sound I can find. Most are speakers along the wall, with some speakers in the ceiling for the larger areas. I find at least one floor tile replaced with speakers. Fucked house. No sign of the sound system itself yet. It’s so scared. Absolutely terrified. I need to stop and take a breath before it gets to me and I panic myself. I sit on the first couch I find and take several deep breaths. I close my eyes and listen. Shock. Grief. Fear. Panic. Anger. Desperation. I can’t help but have the thought of the thrill a Catholic priest would have if they got a recording of this, to show us all that this is what eternal damnation sounds like. I take a few more deep breaths. The sound system is everywhere, but the cause of this might not be. Let’s find where the sound system is and see if any of the sounds are localized to a part of the house.
I look around the ground floor, turning down hallways, walking into the kitchen, the bedroom, a bathroom. The speakers are not all playing the same sound. Some are louder, others are softer, but the cacophany, the layering, is similar. The voice is distorted, human but also not. The pitch jumps erratically. It almost feels like I’m walking through a crowd. My dear poor soul, what ails you so? What are you afraid of? I go up the stairs. Nothing in the other bathroom, nothing in — ah, there’s the sound system. The office, of course. I expected it to be louder here, but it’s not, really. I look over the system, seeing if there’s any damage to it or anything odd stands out. I don’t see anything out of place, but I don’t really know much about these systems, so I can’t say that in confidence. I close my eyes and listen again, kneeling by the system. Hm? Something feels off. I get up and take a closer look at the system, this time gently feeling around with my hands. A part of it feels warmer than the rest...but not near the power supply. Out of curiosity, I go around the house one more time, getting a little closer to the speakers as I go past them. A bit of a reach, but maybe one of them is running hotter than the rest.
Nothing on the second floor. I browse around on the ground floor until I notice a small difference in the bathroom. Before I know it, I say “Hello?” to the speaker there. A gasping shriek strikes the entire house all at once, then goes quiet. I can hear a scared, sad whimpering now. “I’m sorry I scared you, can we talk? I’m here to help.” The sound is a little louder now, a sobbing barely holding together. Boy do I recognize that feeling. I pause and consider what to do next. We’re not ready to talk. This isn’t the right time for humor either, not when I don’t know who or what this is. I hum a soothing melody while I think. The sobbing dies down slightly. Yeah okay, let’s try a song then. I’m not practiced at it or anything, but the heart can make up for where the lungs falter.
Alegre vengo de la montaña
de mi cabaña que alegre está
y a mis amigos les traigo flores
de las mejores de mi rosal.
Y a mis amigos les traigo flores
de las mejores de mi rosal.
Ya siento el alma inquieta de gozo
y de alborozo puro y sin par
por la jornada más borinqueña
y más risueña, la Navidad.
Cantemos todos con alborozo,
llenos de gozo, llenos de amor,
y conservemos en el presente
siempre latente la tradición.
Cuanto me alegro de haber nacido
en este nido en este edén
porque estas fiestas que adoro tanto
son el encanto de Borinquen.
It’s not really the season to sing Christmas songs, but this one makes me happy. Oh? It’s quieted down. Almost silent, aside from the occasional sniffing. “It’s going to be okay,” I say soothingly. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? I’d like to help.” Low distorted moaning and groaning drifts from the speakers. Hm. I don’t think this one can speak. What to do...
I tap my pants absent-mindedly until it hits me. My music player! Of course. I’ve had that for years, maybe they can communicate. I don’t know what they would talk about or if it would work, but I expect they speak a language much closer to each other than mine. I pull out my music player and place it on the floor in front of me. “Could you talk to the sound system for me?” I ask it, “Could you listen to what it has to say and try and be supportive? I don’t know if you understand, but I could really use your help.” The lights on the music player flicker, and various bloops and blips are exchanged between the two systems. The conversation goes on for a few minutes, as I lean on the bathtub for a breather. My senses are absolutely fried. I’ll be lucky if I make it home today. As I try and figure out how I’m going to muster the energy just to stand up and get out of the house, music starts to play. Soft, slow, classical music. It’s not any I recognize, but it’s not like I’m terribly knowleadgable either. It sounds...at peace, if a bit timid. Alright. I think this job’s pretty much done. Urgh. What a way to start. I’m not even sure what caused this mess. I need words.