‘Hello? Hello? Is this thing on? If you can hear this, I’ve found the source. Or I’m dead. But probably the source. It wasn’t just an irritation, you see. Not just a random oscillation in our ear, not saturation feedback. It’s a signal. They’re calling to us and we have to answer. The key is the person. Find the list. Find them all. Follow my signal. Find me. This is Montana Parker, signing off. Hello? Hello…?’
The message kept going, always accompanied by that tinny whine. Always on the edge of hearing, screeching for notice like a child tugging at a sleeve.A needle being inserted slowly to your ear canal. Aggravating and insistent. Hannigan remembered the first time he’d heard the sound. Eight years old, watching the screens when it had started, prodding and poking him to get his attention. He’d called to his mother, who was busy strolling amongst the perfume stands, far too busy to pay attention to her son.
The noise had never gone away. He’d spoken to doctors, shamans, even random people on the corner of the street preaching hellfire and damnation, but nobody had been able to help. The doctors had considered tinnitus, prescribing counselling and cognitive behavioural therapy. None of that worked.
The shamans talked about trepanning, releasing the spirits that were plaguing him. Drilling into his skull, if you can believe it. He let them, but it didn’t help.
The preachers were a last resort and were about as much use as you could imagine.
But then he heard Montana Parker’s first message. His call to arms, to all those who felt the noise.
He wasn’t alone any more.
So I, quite often, hear a high pitched whining or whistling noise, usually around technology. Anybody else experience this?
The Idiot in Tin Foil