Signals & Static

Pattern Recognition

Perth stared at him. For someone who didn't do metaphors, Santa sure knew how to accidentally make them poetic.

"Okay, your turn," he said. "I'll name a sound, and you rate it one to ten, sensory comfort scale."

Santa blinked. "This is not in the instructions."

"Exactly. Chaos mode."

Santa didn't object. He just... waited.

"Rain on a tin roof," Perth said.

"Four. Sharp echo."

"Microwave beep?"

"Two. Invasive. Makes me twitch."

"Electric toothbrush in a tiled bathroom."

"Zero. Instant migraine. I wear earplugs to brush."

"Vinyl static."

Santa tilted his head.

"Neutral. Sometimes soothing. Five, maybe."

Perth raised an eyebrow. "You like static?

Santa nodded slowly. "It's consistent. It doesn't try to surprise me."

There was a beat of silence. No chaos. Just a pause that didn't feel like a gap.

Perth smiled, softer now. "I think I like that too."

⸻

By the end of the twenty minutes, Layla clapped again. People slowly drifted back into the larger circle. Perth stretched, stood, then hesitated.

"You wanna—uh—continue the sound rating thing sometime?" he asked, feigning nonchalance poorly.

Santa looked at him.

And then, very slowly, nodded.

"I think I would."

Santa

Santa didn't leave immediately after the session.

He never did. He waited exactly four minutes after the group officially ended, long enough for the hallway chatter to die down and the social pressure to dissipate. He stood near the bulletin board, pretending to study the outdated flyers for mindfulness workshops and peer mentoring.

But his mind wasn't on them.

It was on Perth's voice.
On the way he said vinyl static like it was a memory, not a sound.
On how his words came in loops and curves, like cursive thoughts.

Santa didn't usually initiate second contact. He didn't seek people. Most relationships required decoding too many ambiguous signals—double meanings, tone, posture, silence. It was work. And he already had a full-time job understanding the world as it was.

But this... wasn't that.

Perth had given him rules. A scale. A clear exchange of input and output. It was loose, yes—but it had form. And Santa had enjoyed it more than he expected.

He added a new folder to his mental schema, a category he didn't have before.

Unstructured Conversations with Predictable Cadence: Enjoyable

He would wait and see if Perth messaged him.

If he didn't, that would be acceptable. But if he did... Santa was open to further interaction.

That was rare. Noted.

⸻

Perth

Perth left the meeting too fast.
Classic move—deflect before it sinks in.