ACOUSTIC METADATA

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• TIMESTAMP: Winter, 1987

• ACOUSTIC INCIDENT: Orderly explosion of mediocrity / Late applause

• SUBJECT: Old Lin (The Shanxi accent / Meticulousness)

• SYMBOL: The building as a giant panpipe

 

 

Old Song turned 180 degrees. "Ah-ah-ah," everyone sang in unison—an incredibly uniform wave of mediocrity and obedience, crashing over me until their broken notes covered my sound.

 

The baton slashed down. Silence. Explosion.

 

The late applause arrived, boisterous and overwhelming. All eyes were on Old Song. 

 

A flash of horror crossed his glasses. 

 

I ran behind the crimson curtain, shrinking into a ball. Headache, tears, ears bleeding. 

 

Later, in the dark hallway, a thin figure shuffled over. 

 

"Bai Eagle, that was a truly professional performance." Old Lin. He didn't shake my hand but adjusted the collar of my military overcoat. "The weather is chilly, don't be careless.” His Shanxi accent carried the warm scent of noodle soup.

 

I ran down the stairs. Looking back, that building had turned into a giant panpipe. Every floor, every "box," was emitting the sound of human nature and power in copulation. Its north face produced a grand, fake audio; the south face produced the urban, trivial background noise.

 

I straddled my bicycle with its clattering chain. 

 

Gently swaying my head, I returned to my state of drifting.