A human listens to a very strange, and ancient, device. A music player that uses cylinder shaped medium. -- BKF
If there is one truth in the Galactic Alliance, it is that the Archivaas will preserve, restore, and archive everything. Anything and everything Humanity made, at first, but then everything and anything that Humanity encountered. Documents, recordings, items, and sometimes animals.
Every kind of media and every means of experiencing it.
It's easy to get lost in their mega-complexes, so they take some experiences on tour to share them with anyone interested. This one was titled A Festival of Sound.
The oldest recorded Human voice was inscribed on paper, and only decoded into audible sound centuries later. "Low quality" is a generous description. "Creepy" is the average one. The oldest playable sound recordings are usually described as "Chilling". Because they are voices of the dead.
The machine, and all its cylinders, are replicas. Carefully and lovingly made by people so dedicated to history that they will use modern technology to extract the voice from the original recording, digitally restore it, and then re-record it onto a new, more durable material for the tour.
Engineer Jep knew this, and she had allegedly come for the science behind the show. The Archivaas were selling manuals on how to construct your very own version of whichever machine you liked out of available or printed materials. She fully expected to leave the tour with an armload of datachips and possibly a plush mammoth.
Because who doesn't want a plush mammoth?
The phonograph was as bare bones as a raspberry pi rig. All the essential parts out in the open so anyone could see how it worked. Not that that would stop Jep from buying the manuals.
"This is our most popular recording. The voice of the inventor, Thomas Edison, demonstrating the new machine." The Archivaas wound the clockwork and set the playback in motion.
...and a voice from centuries ago recited, "Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow. And ev'ry where that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go. Ha. Ha. Ha." It sounded like it was being recited through a tin tube at the bottom of a deep well, but it was history you could hear.
Gooseflesh. A creeping chill running down her spine. Not merely the voice of a dead man, but a voice from before the Shattering was ever dreamed of. A voice from before spaceflight. Flakk. A voice from before controlled flight. And the voice of a man credited with so many advancements that launched the next century into the Industrial Era. Later discovered to be a credit-stealing hack for the most part.
It was still chilling to hear it. The distance of history between Jep and Edison was immense, yet she could still hear his voice. Anyone could hear his voice.
The next example was a more professional recording of My Bonnie, which settled every hackle that Edison's voice had raised.
It was somehow far more real than reading the journals of yore. Writing had been around since the dawning era of civilisation. Anyone could plausibly read the words of people who had been -say- offended by a dodgy copper merchant.
Nevertheless, for just a moment, Jep had to wonder if people felt like this a handful of centuries after writing had been invented. Then she remembered that literacy was relatively rare and difficult in those ancient days. "Does everyone get chills hearing Edison?"
"Every time. By the time people could get chills about ancient writing, humanity didn't have voices to connect with the words. Occasional history nerds get them, but most people are truly casual about it," the Archivaas grinned. "My personal favourite is the opening words to the Epic of Gilgamesh." They recited, "In those days, in those distant days, in those ancient nights... There was history before written history. That is chilling for me."
Jep could agree. The perspective was more than a little dizzying.
She moved on to listen to some rock and roll from the vinyl disk section.
[Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash]
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