The Sound Behind the Screen

Letter 29 of the Book of Forgetting

The old well stood grey at the south edge, the morning light flat through the fog. Garrin Zohar had set up a board and a cloth screen three meters from the well mouth. His stopwatch hung from a cord around his neck.

Liesl Kfir stood with her arms crossed. "You're sure this tests my hearing, not the well."

"The well's not in it," Garrin said. "I drop a stone on the board behind the screen. You press when you hear it land. No visual cue."

"And if I'm still a second late?"

"Then it's not reaction. We rule out the ordinary cause and move on."

Liesl turned to me. "You're recording?"

"Yes. Mic near your ear, same as before."

She nodded and walked behind the screen. Garrin picked up a stone from the pile we'd been using for weeks. He waited until she called out.

"Ready."

He dropped it. The stone hit the board with a clean thock. I heard Liesl's button click a beat later.

Garrin read the stopwatch. "One point one seconds."

Liesl came around the screen. "Again."

Three more drops. The times were 1.0, 1.2, and 1.1 seconds. Each time, the button click came about a second after the stone hit the board.

Garrin set the stopwatch down. "That's consistent."

"Slow reaction." Liesl's voice was flat. "That's what you'll say."

"It's what the numbers say. Normal hearing-to-hand speed is under half a second. You're a full second every time. No variation, no learning curve."

"So my hearing is slow." She picked up a stone and held it out over the well. "Then explain this." She let it fall. The splash came clean, and I heard nothing after it.

"Now," Liesl said.

I checked the recorder. Her voice was about a second after the splash.

"You heard the second sound again," I said.

"Clear as day." She faced Garrin. "I heard the splash, then about a second later I heard it again, softer. Same as always. That's not reaction time. That's a sound I'm hearing that you're not."

Garrin was quiet. He picked up his bag. "I'll mark the test as done. Reaction time is slow but consistent. The second sound remains unexplained."

He walked off toward the town hall. I played back the recording for Liesl. Her voice came through, late, but no second splash on the track.

"It's not your hand," I said. "The click test proved that. But it's not the well either. It follows you."

Liesl stared at the water. "Dalia's calling Meir and Zipporah today. Asking if they heard the babies' words twice."

"Zipporah mentioned a whisper near the north fence. Meir heard something at the orchard."

"That's the test," she said. "If they heard it twice, same delay, then it's not just me. It's a kind of hearing some of us have."

"And if they didn't?"

She picked up her coat. "Then I'm the only one. And I still heard it. That's something too."