ACOUSTIC METADATA

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• TIMESTAMP: Spring, 2007

• LOCATION: Compound No. 7 / Editorial Office

• ACOUSTIC INTERFERENCE: Shotgun bolts, Synthetic nets, Poisoned grain rattle

• WEAPON STATUS: Full-Spectrum Sonic Cloning (Active)

 

 

Director Wu of the Administrative Bureau issued an "Extermination Order" to purge the compound of all crows. The pretext: "Sanitary hazards." The private reason: they were too loud, and they were omens of bad luck.

 

I focused on Wu’s office kilometers away. The metallic clack of shotgun bolts, the perverse friction of synthetic nets, the rattle of poisoned grain into cardboard boxes—it was an unbearable cacophony. 

 

To humans, this was "environmental management." To me, it was a wave of disordered, offensive interference.

 

The compound belongs to humans, but it is also the territory of the crow. If the birds couldn't scream, "Do you dare play me?" then I would. 

 

My action was not an act of justice. Justice is a human construct, carrying a cheap, greasy scent—it nauseates me.

 

I had already sampled Wu’s private conversations, capturing enough evidence to strip him of his title. Then, I accessed the secure line. I calibrated the tension in my throat, extracting Deputy Minister Tong’s voiceprint—saturated with that musty, bureaucratic scent of authority.

 

Launching Sonic Projectile.