INTRODUCTION
Mikhail Efimovich Zuev-Ordynets was born on June 1st (May 19 O.S.), 1900 in Moscow, and died on December 23, 1967. Zuev-Ordynets enlisted in the Red Army in 1918 and served as an artillery commander in the Russian Civil War. After the war, he worked for a newspaper and started to publish stories, considered to be some of the foundational works of Soviet adventure fiction. In 1937, Zuev-Ordynets was arrested and served nineteen years in the gulag system, writing the story "Case No. 179888" about his experience. Despite his poor health after release, Zuev-Ordynets was incredibly prolific, writing three novels and dozens of short stories, novellas and essays.
"The Lord of Sound" Zuev-Ordynets' first published science fiction story, which appeared in the November 1926 issue of "Universal Tracker". Additional works of possible interest to the science fiction reader include the fantasy-adventure novel "The Tale of the City of Novo-Kitezh" (1930), and the short stories "The Mad Company" (1929) and "The Sheep of Panurge" (1929).
This translation is based off the Russian, which can be found with illustrations here: https://nemaloknig.net/read-293701/
Further biographical information can be found here: https://fantlab.ru/autor3217
The Lord of Sound
Jim Cartwright, clerk, woke up suddenly as if from some internal shock, from a dull subconscious feeling of misery that had fallen on top of his head.
He swung his legs off the bed and put his usual shoes on. His gaze fell on the alarm clock sitting opposite the bed on the bookcase.
"Half an hour past nine... Well, isn't that so," Jim thought. - "What rotten luck. I'm an hour and a half late for work!"
Feeling like a man thrown into the abyss, Jim could just imagine his appearance at the office today at the Excellence Sausage Distribution Joint Stock Company. The timecard is, of course, already locked. He would have to explain why he was more than an hour and a half late. And the mocking smirks of his colleagues, and the menacing frown of the boss!..
Jim looked at the alarm clock with hatred. "And this is the so-called patented alarm clock 'Wakey-Wakey'" he thought, boiling with rage, "this lousy bastard doesn't ring when it should, and when it does, it can't even wake up someone who's asleep!"
Jim grabbed the porcelain mug from the nightstand and threw it forcefully at the alarm clock. And, without expecting to do so, he very accurately hit it. The mug struck the unfortunate "Wakey-Wakey", knocked it off the shelf, sent a couple more plaster figurines after it for company, and finally rolled to the floor, breaking into pieces.
Jim's eyes widened in fear. He had expected to hear a terrible crash that would frighten the entire apartment, but did not hear a single sound.
- "What's this!" - he exclaimed in fear. And he became even more frightened. His tongue acted as always, all the muscles of his face also completely obeyed him, and yet he could not hear his words.
A terrible thought flashed in his mind: "I've suddenly gone deaf in my sleep!"
Jim jumped out of bed, grabbed a heavy oak chair and slammed it hard onto the floor. The chair bounced like a ball and flew into a corner with its legs broken, but Jim still did not hear a single sound, not even the slightest rustle.
Jim's legs gave way and he fell straight to the floor:
- "Yes. I'm completely deaf..."
For how long he sat like that on the floor, Jim did not remember. He came to his senses by unceremonious kicks to his back. He turned over sluggishly. Standing above him, pitifully shaking her head was his landlady, the venerable dame Elizabeth Madswick.
No matter how depressed Jim was; with his unexpected misfortune, he nevertheless realized that it was rather awkward to receive Miss Elizabeth in only his underwear. Jumping up from the floor, Jim dived behind the curtains and, sticking his head out, shouted:
- "Miss Elizabeth, I'm completely deaf!"
But for some reason, Miss Elizabeth shook her head negatively in response, pointing her hands at her ears.
- "She can't hear me," Jim guessed. - "My God, am I really mute?!"
If Jim had even a hint of calm left, he would certainly have noticed the lack of his landlady's usual stiffness. Miss Elizabeth's lace apron slid to one side, and her gray hair, which she always zealously hid from prying eyes, peeped out in tufts from under her cap. Miss Elizabeth's face clearly showed bewilderment and fear. But Jim thought only of himself, he thought only of how to make Miss Elizabeth aware of his misfortune. Looking around, he saw an old newspaper and pencil not far from him. Jim grabbed both and wrote in the margins of the newspaper:
- "Miss Elizabeth, I'm so distressed. I'm deaf."
And he handed the newspaper to Miss Elizabeth. She read it, nodded her head and, snatching the pencil from Jim's hands, quickly scrawled across the newspaper. Jim, leaning out from behind the curtain, read over Miss Elizabeth's shoulder:
- "I also went deaf about two hours ago. But it seems like not only us, but all of New York, if not the whole world, has gone deaf."
Jim's mouth gaped wide open in surprise. And when he closed it, Miss Elizabeth was no longer in the room.
Dressing hastily without a tie or hat, Jim flew out into the street.
II. Deaf New York
The first person Jim saw on the street was his office colleague, Jeff Cotton, senior clerk. Grabbing his friend by the hand, Jim dragged him to a store window and with his finger, wrote on the foggy glass:
- "Jeff, what happened?"
Cotton crossed out his inscription and wrote in large letters above it:
- "All New York's deaf."
No matter how amazed and frightened Jim was, his military training immediately kicked in. Through the same fogged glass he asked his comrade:
- "I think, Jeff, that in light of these exceptional circumstances, maybe we won't have to go to work?"
In response, Cotton only nodded his head in annoyance and then made a broad gesture around the street, silently inviting Jim to see that now there was no time for work.
On the streets, something unfathomable was indeed happening. Huge crowds of New Yorkers in a panic, as if fleeing from something terrible, were rushing along the sidewalks. They flashed by with their hands in supplication, with wide-open mouths seemingly shouting something loudly. And, not hearing their screams, the people became even more frightened, losing their minds from this terrible, inexplicable absence of sound.
Jim and Jeff squeezed into a deep alcove in a wall and watched all this horror in silence.
In order to save their own lives, the people had gone mad. Here a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman, impeccably dressed, rushed into the running crowd, trying to make his way to the entrance of some house. With magnificent, clean boxing strikes, he cleared a path for himself, even using his legs and head when necessary. The gentleman did not pay attention to the fact that from his strikes, women and even children fell underneath the rushing crowd. He had almost reached his goal and had already grasped the door handle when a huge black man ran into him. With a kick to the stomach, he tried to push the black man away. But the black man resisted and turning gray with anger and pain, lowered his huge fist into the dandy's top hat. The gentleman let go of the door handle and collapsed under the feet of the running crowd.
Automobiles, taxis, buses, accelerating at insane speeds, swept through the streets like an avalanche. One could see the drivers tearing at the handles and bubbles of their horns and sirens. But, not hearing these warning sounds, people were thrust under their wheels.
Casting a huge shadow on the ground, an elevated railway train sped by to a four-story height and suddenly stopped abruptly, apparently due to the power being cut, and hung like a lifeless weight over the distraught street. Passengers, with faces distorted in horror, rushed around the carriages, looking for a way to get out of this airborne trap.
And the hands of the automatic clock on the street corner still slid across the dial blankly indifferent, marking the passing minutes and hours.
Jim and Jeff, shocked and overwhelmed, lost sight of everything. Sometimes it seemed to them like they were watching a terrifying, nightmarish film in the cinema, since this all happened in complete, perfect silence.
When the clock hands merged into one at the number "12", Jim came to his senses and realized that it would now be safer to sit at home. On a piece of paper torn from a notebook, he wrote to his friend:
- "Enough for me. Looks like the crowd's thinning. I'll try to get home."
Shaking each other's hands, they slipped out of the alcove and onto the sidewalk...
Bursting into his room, Jim opened his notebook, and with trembling hands wrote on one of the sheets of paper:
"October 14. At around eight o'clock in the morning, all New York went deaf. No one can hear a single sound. I don't know who or what caused this. There's terrible panic in the city. I'm writing this out of my duty as a civilized person, as no one knows what's going to happen to all of us and our city next..."
III. Sing-Sing acts, Congress acts...
Twilight stealthily crept in and was resting like a gray haze on New York's streets and squares. And behind them, the dead autumn night enveloped the silent giant city.
However, the panic did not subside, but on the contrary, grew with the speed of a prairie fire. Even during the day, employees and laborers fled in horror from all of New York's shops, offices, banks, institutions, plants and factories.
The post office and telegraph were dead, the railways were shut down, the city water supply stopped working, and now completely unnecessary to everyone, the telephone exchange ceased to function. Panicking engineers and workers abandoned the power plants that supplied New York with electrical energy. All the trams and buses were stopped, underground trains got stuck halfway in dark railway tunnels, and the one above ground hung at a height of twenty meters... Due to the power plant ceasing operations, the darkness of the night was no longer pierced by millions of lights, and a deaf, blind New York began to struggle with an even more terrible, convulsive panic...
Expecting new, terrible misfortunes in the wake of this deafness, perhaps the complete destruction of the entire city, New Yorkers rushed towards the train stations. Seeing the cold, lifeless locomotives, the trains stuck on the tracks there, the deserted platforms, the empty depots, ticket offices, and bureaus - everything abandoned in a panicked haste - the crowds rushed back to the city.
And then the great exodus of New Yorkers began.
They fled on steamships leaving New York's ports in haste, on motor and rowing boats, on racing yachts, on dirty tugboats and even police boats. This entire mass of ships raced out of the harbor at once, causing the weakest and least evasive ships to be plunged to the bottom with broken hulls.
One thought, one desire that was present in more or less every wealthy New Yorker was: by whatever means, on whatever vehicle, for whatever price, to get out of the deaf city.
The aristocratic palaces on Fifth Avenue instantly emptied out. Arch-billionaires, billionaires and just plain millionaires piled into powerful cars with their families and headed for the turnpike.
But on the outskirts, they were stopped by barricades put up by the urban poor and the workers. The picketers demanded:
- "If you're going to die, then you're going to die with us. Back it up."
The oil, coal, meat, and steel barons, among others, tried to clear their way with revolver shots. However, seeing their brothers hanging from nooses on lamp posts here and there, the rich realized that it was a bad idea to tempt the poor, and, reluctantly, slowly retreated back to their palaces. And at night, they nevertheless deceived the working-class districts, flying out of New York on aeroplanes...
At night, Sing Sing prison rioted. The frightened guards put up very little resistance, and, breaking down the doors of their cells, crowds of bandits, thieves, and murderers spilled onto the streets.
Bold incidents of looting and robbery right out in the open erupted throughout the entire city. With outright impudence, banks, shops, and houses of the rich were raided. Half the police fled in terror, and the mysterious deafness hampered the work of those policemen who remained.
Fires broke out in different parts of the city, bearing obvious signs of deliberate arson. Port warehouses, customs, the treasury, factory depots, the town hall, museums and the palaces of some financial magnates were set on fire. The firefighters tried to combat the fires, but, seeing their powerlessness in the face of more and more new fires breaking out every minute, they also ended up fleeing, abandoning their convoy...
The terrible night reluctantly receded before the dawn. The morning, cloudy and rotten, began to cry in an autumn rain over the city frozen in a grave silence.
Skyscrapers thirty and forty-stories high rose in dead masses, long streets yawned like silent, deserted chasms; the thirty-five verst long Broadway stretched out like a lifeless desert.[Translator's note: Verst, an antiquated measurement about 1.067 kilometers. Broadway is closer to 33 miles, or 50 versts.] On the asphalt, shiny from the rain, at the entrances and at the intersections where there was a particularly heavy morning crowd, the bodies of people trampled during yesterday's panic were all stretched out, as if resting.
Many houses bore traces of the wild destruction, and the black, smoky plumes of numerous fires slowly rose towards the sky, fighting against the rain...
* * *
Four days later, the front page of "The Washington World" screamed in huge letters:
MORE ABOUT THE NEW YORK MYSTERY.
"New York. The 19th. Yesterday, the boundaries of the mysterious deafness that gripped New York were precisely determined. The entire city went deaf, as well as Brooklyn, Long Island City, Richmond and other New York suburbs. Outside the city and its suburbs, the deafness spread no further than five or six kilometers, covering a circle with a radius of approximately thirty kilometers.
"Congress has established a commission to find out the cause of this mysterious phenomenon and how to combat it.
"Senator Outson, vested with exclusive powers by the President, was appointed chairman of this commission. One could not wish for a better appointment, since Senator Outson, who happily combines his iron will, flexible natural mind and brilliant education, is remembered by all of us for his enormous and fruitful labor in 1918 at Versailles in the cause of strengthening universal peace.
"Outson flew to New York yesterday by aeroplane. Before leaving Washington, Mr. Outson ordered the urgent convening of a scientific subcommittee to determine the cause of the New York mystery. The subcommittee included all of America's best professors in the departments of physics, chemistry and radiology. Many European luminaries also expressed a desire to work as part of the scientific subcommittee.
"The subcommittee chose the town of Beacon for its location, not affected by deafness, but located near the border of the deafened territory (a three hour drive from New York). Thus, we are on the eve of complete elucidation of this strange phenomenon.
"The New York riots are gradually being quelled. All fires have been extinguished, bands of looters are being machine-gunned by soldiers, the New York police are reinforced by police brigades from Washington, Chicago and Boston. Incidents of robberies and looting have decreased significantly, and arson has completely stopped. Deliveries of products have been organized. In the coming days, the power plants will be operational and traffic on the electric roads will be partially resumed. But frightened New Yorkers are reportedly reluctant to return to their city.
"Many political figures express the belief that the Bolsheviks are the true instigators of the New York disaster. A delegation of factory and plantation owners from the South came to the White House and was received by the President, demanding that an ultimatum be sent to Moscow. Senator Borah gave a three-hour speech to Congress, proving the innocence of the Bolsheviks. But his speech did not convince anyone, and an order has already been given to intensify repression against the American Communist Party..."
IV. The Subcommittee is Also Working.
Senator Outson, sighing heavily and hopelessly, took off his fogged glasses, wiped the lenses and straddling them on his nose, again bent over the paper.
"...Thus, the scientific subcommittee is not yet able to determine the exact origin of the mysterious acoustic phenomenon in New York, and we are forced to only confine ourselves to supposition.
"A medical examination of New York residents has proven that there are no changes in their organs of hearing. Consequently, the attacker, or attackers, who silenced New York are acting in some mysterious way; not on the people themselves, not on their hearing systems or brain centers, but on the surrounding air.
"That the propagation of sound is only possible in the presence of air, or another conducting medium, was proven back in the 17th century by the famous English physicist Robert Boyle.
"The chemical composition of the air itself has not changed, otherwise it would have affected all living things. The density or elasticity of the air did not change either.
"Taking all of the above into account and paying heed to the results of numerous experiments, we came to the conclusion that there were only two ways to silence New York:
"The first method is to artificially increase or decrease the number of vibrations (sound waves) in the air.
"It is known that the ability of our ear to perceive sounds, i.e. to hear them, is limited on both ends. If the 'sound' caused by something or someone is less than eight vibrations per second, then such a (low) sound would no longer be heard. And, conversely, if the sound generator produces more than 32,000 vibrations per second, then the sound will be so high that we again would not hear it.
"Based on this, we can assume that the attackers have invented a device that, using methods unknown to us, artificially increases or decreases the pitch of every sound in New York from their very source to such a degree that they are no longer perceived by the ear, i.e. they become inaudible. This is the first of two possible explanations.
"We must note that there has never been a case in science, not even an attempt, to invent such a device.
"Our other assumption is based on the law of wave interference.
"The essence of this curious phenomenon is as follows. If you produce two tones that are perfectly identical in pitch and intensity, they will mutually destroy each other and then both will not be heard. But this will happen only under the condition that the distance between the points from which sounds are generated is exactly equal to an odd number of half wavelengths.
"Due to these conditions, the construction of an apparatus that would destructively interfere, i.e. absorb all the sounds of New York, is hampered by two serious obstacles.
"Firstly, the unimaginable variety of sounds with which New York blared and roared before October 14th. After all, it is inhumanly difficult to destroy every, even the most insignificant New York rustle, to cause exactly the same rustle or sound. How many sounds would then need to be made?!
"The second obstacle is that of the distance between two objects, which we discussed above. Where, then, is the apparatus that muffles all the sounds of New York, if it must be at a calculable distance, precisely determined by physics, from every talking or screaming New Yorker, from every machine of the rattling New York factories and plants, from every puffing steam locomotive, honking car, ringing bell, music hall roaring jazz band, or the groaning violin of an opera or theater hall? Where in New York is this apparatus located if it must be at a precisely defined distance even from every barking dog, purring cat, crying child and every buzzing New York fly?..
"But still, we won't take the liberty of asserting that man cannot create such an apparatus, for we know that the ingenuity of the human mind is limitless.
"This is all, Mr. Senator, that we have to tell you. This is our report of this mysterious phenomenon that is worrying and frightening the entire civilized world. We are still powerless to fight it, to destroy it, because in this case all the science, all the knowledge that is now at our disposal, is powerless. But we, and the scientists from all over the world who are with us, are not giving up yet. We will continue searching, so that we can combat it...
"...Please accept, Mr. Senator, the assurances of our utmost respect..."
Numerous signatures of American and European scientists followed.
Outson wearily leaned back in his chair. Under the feigned erudition of this report, he clearly felt one thing: the complete confusion, powerlessness and bewilderment of the scientists.
- "Even science is powerless," thought the senator. "If the nation's most brilliant minds can't explain what's going on here, then it means the deal's completely rotten. And who can guarantee that tomorrow, the whole of America won't go deaf?.."
A black boy slid into the office like a dark, silent shadow. He handed the senator a business card on a tray.
Outson read:
Arthur Buckmeister
Professor of Radiology
And on the back in pale pencil:
"About the New York mystery."
- "A charlatan," thought Outson, "one of those who flock to my doorstep by the thousand. Seizing this opportunity, they hope to coax out a thousand dollars or two. I won't accept it," the senator decided. And suddenly, without realizing his action, he nodded his head affirmatively.
The disciplined boy opened the door wide. A small figure rushed into the office and froze at the senator's desk. Outson raised his eyes. A hideous hunchback stood in front of him.
V. A Business Offer.
- "Now it's too late, you can't turn him away," the senator thought, irritated.
He pointed sharply to the chair, inviting the guest to sit down. The hunchback handed him a note:
- "If you pay me one million dollars, then I, Buckmeister, will find the cause of the New York deafness for you."
Outson was struck by the enormous amount of the reward he demanded. Until now, not a single charlatan was talking in the millions.
- "If he's a gold digger," the senator thought, "he'll be one of the biggest. You'll have to keep your ears open."
Frowning with disgust, he wrote:
- "I'll pay you two million dollars if your offer is serious. But what can you do when the best scientists in America and Europe are powerless in this matter?"
Along with this note, Outson handed Buckmeister the report of the scientific subcommittee that had just been read. The hunchback leafed through it carelessly and, smiling contemptuously, wrote something in the margins.
- "All your scientists are jackasses. This riddle is within the grasp of only me, Buckmeister," the surprised senator read.
- "If it's not a secret, then explain where you're getting such confidence from?" - the senator sharply asked.
The hunchback unceremoniously snatched a large sheet of paper from the senator's desk and nervously scribbled on it with a pencil. While he was writing, the senator looked at this mysterious, hideous creature with curiosity.
His puny body, disfigured by a hump, seemed to have difficulty bearing the weight of his huge head. Protruding ears like the wings of a bat, a bulging forehead hanging over the eyes that merges into a bald spot, and a sharp, triangle-shaped chin all disfigured the professor's face, making him appear frightening and repulsive. The corners of his thin lips periodically twitched into an evil and contemptuous grin. Closely seated to one another, his small eyes darted restlessly from object to object every minute. But when their gaze met the gaze of the senator, Outson felt somewhat uneasy, and averted his eyes to the side.
The hunchback raised his head and threw the written sheet of paper onto the senator's desk.
It read:
"I'm a professor at the University of Copenhagen. There, in Copenhagen, I met a young amateur scientist, a certain Ole Holgersen, a Swede by nationality. We were brought together by a common idea - the desire to create a machine that would annihilate all sounds in an intended area. As we worked together on this machine, I was amazed at Holgersen's tremendous knowledge. I must admit that he, not a professional scientist, but just an amateur, knew more than me, an old rat who's devoted his whole life to science. And in our work, he assumed a leadership position, and I was no more, and no less than his assistant.
"Our work was coming to its end, but the end was not something I was destined to see out. This was due to my talkativeness. I once suggested that it would be a good idea to sell our machine to some rich nation. They would give us a fortune for it, since it confers enormous advantages, both in terms of offense and defense.
"Holgersen protested. He was one of those snivelling idealists who hate all war in general. We had a big fight, and the next day he disappeared. And our machine remained unfinished, because I was stuck like a blind kitten without him.
"For six years, I searched the entire world for him, but he had disappeared into thin air. And when New York was struck by this mysterious deafness, I realized that only Ole Holgersen could pull off such a stunt, only he and no one else on earth.
"Through many unsuccessful attempts to complete the machine without Holgersen, I accidentally stumbled upon an extremely important breakthrough. I have invented a device, something like a direction finder, with which I can determine the spot where Holgersen's machine is located. To do this, it is only necessary for his machine to operate, emitting its mysterious signals into the air. And since this deafening of New York is the best proof that it's operating, I will precisely determine where this machine is hidden for you, and with it, Holgersen.
"I do not require a single cent from you in advance, but if successful, you pay me the agreed upon sum of one million dollars. Do you agree?"
Outson's hand, writing the answer to the hunchback, was noticeably trembling.
- "Agreed. Proceed. For anything you need, please contact me directly."
Having read this answer, Buckmeister quickly jumped out of his chair and, running up to the senator, grabbed his hand. The squeeze of the hunchback's cold hand made Outson shudder with overwhelming disgust.
The hunchback rushed to the door and disappeared.
"Was this all a dream?" thought the senator, looking at the empty chair, in which just a minute ago the ugly creature had nervously twitched.
VI. That'll Be One Million Dollars.
The snow-white "Yonkers" was already shooting out bluish streams of smoke, ready to take off from the monotonous ground any minute.
Helpful hands were already preparing to open the cabin doors. Outson put his foot on the step and suddenly fell backwards: someone had pulled hard on his coat from behind. The senator turned around angrily. Standing in front of him was the hunchback Buckmeister.
"Well, what?.. What?.." the senator shouted, forgetting in his excitement that the hunchback wouldn't hear him anyway.
But Buckmeister, understanding the senator's question, scrawled with a pencil on the white door of the airplane cabin:
- "I found Holgersen. Let's get to him quickly."
- "Where to? Where is he?" - the senator also wrote on the door.
- "First the money, and then Holgersen. Pay me one million dollars."
Outson felt the blood rush to his head.
- "Don't you trust me, a State Senator?" - he wrote.
- "No," the hunchback answered briefly. Outson staggered, as if from a hard slap in the face. Raising his fists, he stepped forward and stood over Buckmeister. The hunchback calmly bent down and, plucking some blade of grass, began to carefully examine it.
Outson's fists dropped weakly. He averted his gaze, pulled out his checkbook and, leaning on the wing of the aeroplane, wrote a check from the state treasury for one million dollars.
Buckmeister took the check, almost snatching it from the senator's hands, and quickly hid it in his coat pocket. He the handed the senator a sheet of thin cardboard, folded into four. It was a large-scale city plan of New York. 421 Park Avenue was marked in red pencil.[Translator's note: 421 Park Avenue was part of a row of sixteen four-story townhouses built by Robert Goelet in 1871 that was replaced by the 425 Park Avenue building in 1957.]
* * *
The "Ford" was making short work of the distance. It blew past the houses of the endless Park Avenue, as if they had been thrown back by an invisible hand. The absence of any traffic on the street, at one time the busiest in New York, allowed the senator's Ford to accelerate to breakneck speed.
- "And my flight to Washington? And my report to the president?" Outson suddenly remembered. He waved his hand. - "Eh, afterwards..."
He slammed on the Ford's brakes, and the car came to a stop. The hunchback unceremoniously pushed Outson and pointed to the house to the right. The senator's gaze was struck by the enormous theatre marquee at a one story height.
Jumping out of the car, the hunchback ran to the theatre's main entrance. He tried it. Locked. He bent over the lock and picked at it with some metal object. He touched the handle again. The door gave way.
- "Cunning," Outson thought, "the professor wouldn't be a bad burglar."
The hunchback pulled out a revolver. Deciding not to be taken by surprise as well, the senator pulled a Browning out of his pocket.
The hunchback stepped forward hesitantly. An old black man stood in the doorway, blocking the passage. But the two revolvers raised level with his forehead explained to him what these two white men wanted more eloquently than any words could. The old man backed away, baring his yellow fangs like a dog about to bite.
Buckmeister spun around the huge foyer in confusion. He indecisively pushed a door open with his palm and disappeared behind it. The senator followed him. They found themselves in an empty auditorium. Rows of chairs extended to the right and left. The screen was dimly white. In the gray semi-darkness, the hunchback saw a small door near the screen. He headed towards it. The Senator, over his shoulder, impatiently pulled the door open.
A bright electric light blinded them.
VII. The Lord of Sound
It was, perhaps, not a room, but rather a cell without windows. In the middle of it, stood a tall, reddish man, as if he were a pillar. His huge blue eyes fixated on the hunchback with a mixed expression of hatred, contempt and fear. The right side of his tired, though still young face twitched convulsively.
The hunchback, pointing his finger at the blue-eyed man, stepped aside, as if saying: "I did everything I needed to do. My mission is over."
On a sheet of paper, the senator wrote:
- "Are you Ole Holgersen?"
The blue-eyed man read it and nodded his head affirmatively.
- "Have you muted New York?" - the senator asked again, through a note.
Holgersen responded with the same nod, suddenly turned around and pulled the black curtain behind him. A machine of unprecedented design was sparkling in the light of numerous metallic reflections. At first glance, what caught the eye were two huge, man-sized metal cones screwed into brackets with their axes parallel to the floor, a meter apart from one another. These cones were turned towards each other by their vertices. Two thick, insulated wires rose upward from the cones and went somewhere outside through a hole in the ceiling.
The senator felt a chill run down his spine. So here it is, the mysterious machine that silenced New York. Here is the mystery that all the world's scientists weren't able to solve!
In letters dancing with excitement, Outson wrote:
- "Stop your machine's operation immediately!"
Holgersen, having read the senator's order, shrugged his shoulders and, smiling, pulled some barely noticeable lever. With ease, the cones turned their bases towards each other and...
The senator clearly heard the hunchback's heavy breathing.
- "What's that?" - the senator shouted and, like normal, heard his voice. - "I hear!"
- "Yes, we can hear. This is our... his machine," the hunchback wheezed, rushing forward. Threateningly brandishing his fists, Holgersen blocked his way.
The senator threw the hunchback towards the door and, grabbing Holgersen by the arm, barked, perhaps enjoying the sound of his own voice?
- "Yes, you're a sorcerer, a magician! Do you know this, my friend?!"
Holgersen answered in a calm voice, without any intonation, as people who have long been deaf say:
- "You, sir, hear, but I still don't. Four years ago I became completely deaf during a difficult experiment. Therefore, I ask you to continue writing on this piece of paper."
This calm, somehow dead voice brought the senator to his senses. He remembered why he was here.
- "Do you know how many lives your ill-considered experiment in muting New York cost? More than a thousand people were trampled and crushed during the October 14th panic that gripped all of New York," the senator wrote.
Having scanned the note, Holgersen turned deathly pale. Clutching his hands to his heart in distress, he spoke in a suddenly ringing voice:
- "I beg of you, please believe me. I didn't know, I couldn't even imagine such a tragedy. Being deaf myself and already accustomed to my deafness, I didn't take into account the fact that a sudden deafness would frighten people and, consequently, induce a panic. During these three weeks I never left this room, observing the machine's operation, and therefore didn't know what was happening on the streets of the city. I remember that at the beginning of the experiment, my old Tom came running to me scared to death and tried communicating something to me by gesturing. But I just laughed at him, since I considered it a completely understandable fright from the sudden onset of deafness. He saw what was happening on the streets of a deaf New York, but could not properly tell me, since he was illiterate, and I was too busy... Yes, I am the cause of thousands of deaths... I am ready to answer for this, whenever and in whatever way is just... But I didn't want this... I didn't want it!.."
- "This is an opportune moment," thought the senator, and quickly wrote:
- "There can be no question of any responsibility on your part. You're already forgiven. I, Senator Outson, will vouch for this. But you must reveal the secret of your invention to the US government. In addition to forgiveness, we'll give you any sum."
Holgersen shook his head.
- "No, I'll never do this. This scoundrel has already tried to force me to sell the machine's secret," he pointed to Buckmeister. - "And when I refused, he tried to suffocate me with chloroform while I was sleeping and rifle through my notes and drawings."
Widening in surprise, the senator's eyes focused on Buckmeister. The hunchback cowered in fear.
- "I was forced to flee and, hiding from him here in New York, under the guise of a theatre technician, I've completed my machine. No, it's not for sale."
- "I understand," the senator wrote. - "You're a patriot and will only give your invention to your native country."
Holgersen laughed:
- "Thanks to fate, I am free from patriotism, this venom we've been poisoned with since childhood. My father is half Swedish, half Russian, my mother's father was French, and her mother was German. Tell me, what is my nationality? I know one country, a free, great country, spread between four oceans. I would gladly give my invention to this country. But I know," Holgersen's voice had a hint of hidden anger and melancholy, "you won't allow my invention to fall into the hands of your enemies, you won't let me or my machine leave America. And so, it won't go to you either. Watch!" - Holgersen shouted and pressed a barely visible button on the wall.
A shining, inexpressibly beautiful, violet ray flashed between the cones with a slight crackling sound, which were now turning again. And immediately the insulation on the wires running through the ceiling flared up and fell in burning wisps to the floor. The shiny surface of the cones dulled, then blackened like blue steel.
The senator felt large drops of sweat roll off his forehead. The hunchback powerlessly sank into a chair, and with a groan, covered his disfigured face in his hands.
Outson decided to try his last resort.
- "If you give us your design," he wrote, "we will pay you an amount equal to half the annual budget of the United States. Otherwise, you'll sit in the electric chair, as the murderer of a thousand New Yorkers..."
Holgersen crumpled up the note and threw it silently at the senator's feet. He clapped his hands. The old black man came in.
- "Tom, see these gentlemen out. They want to leave."
The black man, baring his teeth in a malicious smile, opened the door wide.
VIII. Everything's In Order.
...Having learned that it was not only he, but the entirety of New York who had gone deaf, Jim Cartwright was able to relax. He even found that this deafness was not such a bad thing. Thanks to it, you could have a good rest and be lazy, not very often possible for a poor clerk.
And on this day, November 4th, Jim indulged in sweet idleness. With his feet raised high on the windowsill, he lounged comfortably on the sofa with an old newspaper in his hands.
But the newspaper was boring. Jim softly yawned. And he froze in consternation. He clearly heard himself yawn. He quickly threw his feet off the windowsill and heard his heels thumping on the floor.
- "Yes, I can hear!" - Jim shouted. His sonorous tenor sounded like always.
Rushing to the window, Jim opened it and leaned over the sill, listening.
New York was buzzing, but still weakly and hesitantly, somehow. A worker ran loudly along the sidewalk with his heavy boots, shouting:
- "I can hear! I can hear again!"
A woman was rushing behind him, waving her arms like crazy, crying, laughing and shouting something incoherent. Somewhere close, a bell tolled, and its ringing struck painfully on ears unaccustomed to sound.
For a whole hour, Jim lay on the windowsill, greedily catching all the noise of a reviving New York with his hungry ears.
But the November cold made itself felt. Jim reluctantly climbed down from the windowsill and closed the window. He went to the table and pulled out a notebook. He thought about it and wrote under his old entry dated October 14th:
"On November 4th, at 4 o'clock in the afternoon, New York was noisy again. All sounds can be heard. The mysterious deafness lasted exactly three weeks. The incident is over."
Having put an end to it, Jim yawned sweetly and said loudly, enjoying his voice:
- "Don't be late to the office tomorrow..."
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