Ball of Silence

Ball of Silence - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

         We enter the round bodied, metal cargo hold of the Voice. I put on both my earplugs and headphones and with excited glee, we carefully open the first of the three wooden crates containing the antiques. The joy of a forbidden act makes us giggle. As the forwarder, we aren't supposed to mess with the goods that we transport, but interesting cargo screams for bending the rules.

"I'll deduct what you break from your salaries," I say.

         We all chuckle.

I catch myself staring more at Sina than at the antiques, at the contours of her breasts beneath her tight shirt, the curve of her hips. I long to touch her. It takes an effort to look back at the cargo.

         We unveil old weapons from the first crate, such as half-crumbled ray guns, eons old, and even a rusty spear that Flin insists comes from Old Earth.  

"If this spear was from Old Earth, nobody would transport it on our dilapidated freighter," I say and they all laugh so loud that I wince.

"Oh, sorry, Jaiah, sorry," Flin says.

"It's all right, no worries."

We check the second crate a little more quietly. Priar reveals beautiful and fine pottery, and we admire it.

I open the third and last crate and jerk. Suddenly, a strange sound reaches me through the "eeeees" and the "feeps" in my head. I can't place the sound, a mild, very soft, and beautiful humming.

"Hey, could you all be quiet for a second?" I ask and my crewmates freeze.

I draw in my breath sharply. What a harmonious sound: a subtle, low buzzing; a pulsing. The tone gets brighter, and then a bit lower in perfect harmony. It doesn't say "c-sharp" and then "e-flat." The sound slowly and miraculously becomes "e" after it has been "c," and then it gradually becomes "a" and "c" again, and then "g" and so forth, but it isn't a melody.

It sounds like nothing I've ever heard before. The most striking thing about the song is that it doesn't stop. Music as we know it has phrases. Wind instruments are quite naturally phrased by breath. But music created by wind-independent instruments also has breaks, recurring elements that indicate a new round, or the start of a different part in the piece of music. What I hear now sounds completely alien. It has no phrases whatsoever; it plays in no discernible pattern and yet it is beautiful, clear, and affable. Humans are incapable of composing such music.

I stare at the open crate with my jaw hanging. Several smaller boxes fill the big one.

"What is it?" Sina finally asks anxiously. My heart misses a beat, as I hear how much she cares.

"Something inside here sings," I say. I remove two smaller boxes to get to the one that sings. The heavenly sound intensifies the closer I get, but it doesn't disturb me. It's as if someone has struck a gong and the tone reverberates forever, changing its mood, height, and intensity. I expect the tone to stop, but it doesn't. 

I pick up the box emitting the incredible sound. Flin, Sina, and Priar gather around me and look over my shoulder. The noise of their bodies doesn't disturb the beautiful sound; it's beyond that. Nothing can ever taint it.

"There is sound coming from that box?" Priar asks. Incredible that they can't hear it.

"Yes... such beauty."

With trembling fingers, I open the wooden box. The song jumps out at me with greater clarity. Inside waits an inconspicuous looking black leather box.