Chapter 7 – Failed Communications
958 Words
Maya pushed open the door to Conference Room E to find her normal interpreter, Sophia, already there.
Sophia's eyebrows lifted slightly at the sight of James and his guide dog, but she quickly relaxed into her
Professional demeanor.
"You're late," Director Kaine stated, not glancing up from his tablet. Maya read his lips clearly enough,
The annoyance visible in the tense set of his jaw.
She signed to Sophia, who voiced for her: "I needed to finish analyzing the frequency patterns from the
Harmony Hall recordings."
James Harlow waited just inside the threshold, his dog—a sleek German Shepherd with an attentive
Expression—guiding him with practiced precision. He sported dark glasses and a disarming smile that
Didn't quite reach the corners of his mouth.
"Mr. Harlow," Kaine acknowledged. "Thank you for joining us on such short notice."
"Well, when the Federal Analysis Bureau calls with tales of mysterious sonic weapons, how could I
Resist?" James's voice exuded an effortless assurance that Maya found immediately annoying.
Maya took her normal seat, setting her specialized tablet in front of her. She watched James tilting his
Head slightly—a move she recognized from people with remarkable hearing, as if physically orienting
toward sound sources.
"Dr. Chen has discovered unusual acoustic patterns in recordings from the Harmony Hall incident,"
Kaine stated, gesturing toward Maya even though James couldn't see the gesture.
James found his way to the table, his dog lying beneath it. "And you need my particular talents
because...?"
Maya signed fast to Sophia, who translated: "The delivery mechanism was digitally advanced. Someone
had to hack into and reconfigure the venue's sound system to emit precisely calibrated frequencies."
"And I'm the guy who hears what computers are thinking," James said with a small smirk. "Got it."
Maya battled the impulse to roll her eyes. She tapped on her tablet and sent the sound image to the
room's main screen. To her, the pattern was obvious—swirling blues and yellows establishing precise
mathematical relationships, too orderly to be natural.
"Can someone describe what I'm missing here?" James asked after the pause grew awkward.
Director Kaine cleared his throat. "It's... some kind of colored pattern."
Maya signed firmly, Sophia translating: "It's an intentionally crafted aural signature. The frequencies are
structured in mathematical ratios that suggest intentional composition rather than random noise."
James leaned back. "Interesting. But I need to hear it, not see nice photographs of it."
Maya felt heat rising to her face. She signed sharply: "I can't hear it either. That's why I see it."
The translation seemed to register with James, who had the decency to look a little abashed. "Fair point.
So how do we bridge our perceptual gap here?"
Maya opened up a frequency analysis and transmitted it to James's phone, which announced the arriving
file with a characteristic tone. "This is the raw data," Sophia interpreted for her. "Your phone should be
able to convert it to audio."
James took out a pair of specialist earbuds. "These magnify certain frequency ranges. Give me a
minute."
As he listened, his demeanor shifted, eyebrows coming together in concentration. "There's something...
it's almost like harmonics within harmonics, cycling through a pattern. But parts of it are outside the
typical human hearing range."
Maya observed him closely, amazed by his instantaneous understanding of what had taken her hours to
visualize. She signed more slowly now: "The pattern extends into both infrasonic and ultrasonic levels.
Normal equipment wouldn't detect the complete range."
"Which is why nobody at Harmony Hall heard anything before collapsing," James concluded. "Clever.
And scary."
Director Kaine interrupted their exchange. "Let's focus on practical concerns. Can you two work
together to track the source?"
Before Maya could react, James laughed. "You want to pair a deaf woman with a blind man? Sounds
like the setup to a lousy joke."
Maya slapped her hand on the table, the vibration grabbing everyone's attention. She wrote furiously,
Sophia fighting to keep pace: "My synesthesia permits me to see patterns in sound that nobody else can
identify. Your hyperacusis allows you to hear nuances beyond normal awareness. Our limitations aren't
the issue. Your attitude is."
James's smile faded. "Touché, Dr. Chen. No offense intended."
"Offense taken," was the translated reply.
Kaine stared between them with clear unease. "Look, I don't care about your personal feelings. We
have a crisis situation with no leads except what you two can sense in ways nobody else can."
Maya wrote a brusque response: "I'll work with him if necessary, but our communication will be
problematic at best."
"I'm pretty good at problem-solving," James offered, his tone more serious now. "And my dog Echo is
excellent at navigating difficult terrain—metaphorical or otherwise."
Maya began typing into her iPad, bypassing Sophia totally, and sent a message directly to James's phone.
His device read it aloud: "Your charm won't help us find whoever did this before they strike again."
"No," James acknowledged, his countenance sobering entirely. "But our combined sensory adaptations
might."
The tension in the room was evident when Kaine's phone suddenly chimed. The director answered, his
face going pale as he listened. "Where?" he demanded. "How many affected? Secure the scene.
We're on our way."
He hung up and addressed the room. "There's been another attack. Riverside Shopping District. At
least fifty individuals down."
James stood swiftly, Echo rising with him. "Looks like we'll have to figure out our communication
issues on the fly, Dr. Chen."
Maya grabbed her tools, her prior annoyance replaced by determined haste. She nodded toward James, a
move he couldn't see but nonetheless seemed to understand as he turned toward her.
"Let's go," she signed, Sophia translating one final time as they fled left the room.
- Writer
