A Recording

by Dalkin Sedgewick

The theory is sound. Ha! “The theory is sound”. Isn’t that funny. My theory concerning sound is sound.

The slight moment of brevity was just that. This was an investigation of dire importance. One could see that by the
intense concentration of the man as he knelt beside a tree.

“It has to be.” he barely mumbled aloud.

He was marshaling all his faculties to conquer a problem. Even the pads of his fingers were employed. Anything that
might in some way act as a transducer was invaluable to the cause.

The bark of the tree is rough. Full of ridges and crevices. I bet even a cheap magnifying glass would reveal its highly
porous nature. It's like a sponge. A sound sponge. I can almost see it vibrating now…..“ JUST BY SHOUTING AT IT!”

Several birds took flight at his outburst but the scene returned to the ambience of insect sounds and chirps as his
shoulders slumped back down towards the ground.

He ran his fingers along the spine of the bark. He closed his eyes. He calmed himself. He willed super-sensitivity to
his fingertips. Could he 'hear' anything?

All those cells. Millions of them. If they are vibrated they are different than they were a moment before. That
difference is information. Information can be recorded. It HAS been recorded. But how can it be retrieved?!

I'm fooling myself. I don't want to say it outloud but one fact keeps rearing its ugly head.. Every scenario requires a
prior dataset. If I could somehow take measurements now, obtain some sort of graph, and then made noises I'm
sure there'd be a way to recover the echo from the cellular changes. As the plant cell walls vibrate they must transfer
that energy into some other form. Somewhere in this very tree there is a record of every thunder strike to ever
reverberate in this valley.

But what is the level of sensitivity? Even if a method could be found to recover and recreate the sounds it would most
likely only be effective at certain levels. The crash of lightning maybe but the sounds of a hummingbird fluttering its
wings.....or........no, probably not.

His head dropped low. His fingers clawed into the earth.

I'll get a chainsaw and cut it straight across. I'll have a mill cut ultra-thin platters from the trunk and I'll play them on a
phonograph with the most expensive and sensitive needle I can find.

Then the poor guy imagines the din of the chainsaw obliterating any trace of the more delicate sounds captured in the
recent past and grits his teeth.

I might do it anyway. At least I will have the platters and maybe in the future the technology will catch up with what I
know must be possible. Even if I have to wait 30 years.
The grass.

He ran his fingers through the grass.

So delicate. Every blade of it would vibrate even with the softest sound. If I can hear it the grass can hear it. Each
blade would tremble and disturb the dirt it was planted in to some measurable degree. (Again with the prior dataset!)
If I only knew the position of each spec of dirt beforehand I know there would be a way to graph its altered position
and derive a corresponding sound frequency that would cause it to move in just such a manner. That information
could then be collated to recreate the sounds that caused the ever-so-slight physical alterations. It would be
incredibly difficult to decipher but with the best equipment available and a refusal to be defeated I'd piece it together.

I'll soundproof a room. I'll eliminate all interference. I'll reconstruct every sound. I just need the data!

A bird chirped above.

Birds. Mimicking birds. Maybe a bird was close by. Maybe it heard it all. Maybe it's sitting somewhere now repeating
it! Maybe it's brain can be dissected and the information recovered that way.

A sob..

Suddenly a hand on his shoulder.

“C'mon, man. Let's get you home.”

This wasn’t the first time his friend had found him here. As he helped his buddy to his feet familiarity with the scene
allowed him to sidestep the tire-shaped gouge that ended at the tree.

“No. No! I’m close to figuring it out. I swear!”

“I know, man. I know.”

A pat to the back and a grip of the shoulder.

“But….but they said she was saying something when they found her. They just couldn’t make it out!”

“It’s okay, buddy.”

“I have to know. I have to know what she was saying!”

“I know, man. C’mon, let’s get you home.”

END