The Sound Shield

Letter 35 of the Book of Forgetting

The old well stood grey at the south edge, the fog flat and low. Liesl Kfir arrived at dusk with a stone in each hand. Garrin Zohar came up the path a minute later, his tablet under his arm.

"You're here. Good," Liesl said. "I need you to hear this yourself—I'm tired of being the only one."

"I came because you asked, but I've already timed it," Garrin said. "One second, like you said. Still, I want to hear it with my own ears."

"Then listen. I'll drop the stone, and you count the seconds after the splash. Don't tell me what you hear until it's over."

"Alright. Go ahead."

Liesl leaned over the stone lip and let the stone fall. The splash came clean off the water below.

"There. That was the splash. Now—did you hear anything after it?"

Garrin waited. His lips moved as he counted. "No. Just the one. I counted to ten, nothing."

"Damn it. So it's just me."

"Or it's the place, and you're the only one who picks it up. That's why we test your hearing away from the well."

"I already did that at the mill. Clean as a whistle. So if it's not my ears and not the well, then what?"

"Maybe it's the well itself—some property of the water or the stone. I'd like to measure it with a sound shield, like I said."

"Fine. Tomorrow, at the mill. But if that comes up empty, I'm going to the council with all of it—the delay, the seeds, the children's sentences."

"We'll see. One step at a time."

---

On the east side, the orchard ran to the fog line, the trees neat and low. Ivo Segal found his son Ophir at the far row, checking the drip lines. The guard captain's radio was clipped to his shoulder, but it was silent.

"Ophir, I'm heading out for evening rounds soon, but I wanted to see how you're feeling and whether you've had any more of those dreams about the fog. You've been saying that phrase in your sleep, and it worries me more than I let on."

Ophir straightened, wiped his hands on his trousers. "I'm fine, Dad. It's just a dream, the same one I've had since I was a kid. 'The fog is just fog.' That's all it says. I don't know why it comes back."

"I know you've said that, but I keep thinking about that delayed splash at the well. It's real, I measured it. And then you say that in your sleep, and I can't help but wonder if there's a connection."

"Dad, I've told you, it's nothing. I'm a guard, I walk the fog line every day. It's just fog. Maybe you're just tired, working too many rounds."

"Maybe. But I've got this feeling in my gut that won't settle. You're all I've got, son. I just want to make sure you're alright."

"I am alright. I'll be careful on my rounds, I promise. And if I have the dream again, I'll tell you in the morning. Don't worry so much."

Ivo stood there a moment, the orchard quiet around them. "Alright. I'll hold you to that. You know where I'll be if you need me—out on patrol. Just keep your eyes on the fog line and your head clear."

"I will. You should get some rest before your rounds too. You look like you haven't slept properly in days."

"I'll try. But first, let me ask you something—have you ever heard a second splash when you've been at the well? Like an echo, a full second after the first?"

"No, Dad. I've never heard anything like that. Just the one splash. Maybe it's just how Liesl hears things, or something with the well itself. I don't think it's anything to do with me."

Ivo nodded slowly. "Hmm. Maybe you're right. I just—I don't know. I'll let it go for now. But you tell me if anything changes, you hear me?"

"Yes, Dad. I hear you. Now go do your rounds. I'll be here when you get back."

---

The town hall was empty except for the clerk's desk. Garrin had left his tablet open on the counter. I stood there with my petition in my hand, thinking about the blue seed in my workshop drawer, the damp one on a dry morning.

When Garrin came in from the back, he saw me and nodded. "Fernando. You're here about the east edge."

"Council, I request formal permission to systematically walk the east fog line and collect any blue-tinged seeds, noting dates and dampness, to see if they correlate with the days people report hearing voices. The guard turned me back twice, and this could tie the seeds to the voices."

Garrin picked up his tablet, scrolled through it. "I've been reviewing the survey logs, and the guard's patrol at the east edge runs on a fixed schedule. If we time our walk to match that, we might avoid interference. But I'll need to check the current patrol times."

"That would help. I don't want to cause trouble with the guards—I just want a clean sample. If we can get one good pass along the line, I can compare the blue tinge against my reference collection and the days we've logged voices."

"I'll support your request to the Council. But I want to verify the patrol schedule first, so we're not working against them. I'll go to the guard post after this and ask for the east edge times."

"Thank you, Clerk. I'll prepare my collection kit and mark the exact spots where I found the blue seeds, so we can return to the same places if needed."

"Good. And if the Council approves, I'll note it in the record. But even if they don't, we might find another way—perhaps with a smaller request, like a single day's walk."

"I'd rather do it properly. But I'll take what we can get. The blue tinge is too specific to ignore."

Garrin closed his tablet. The clock on the wall read 6:47. Outside, the fog held its grey light.