The Sandman

123

Johan Jönson leans forward and moves the cursor on the screen across the sequence of sound-waves. The speakers crackle and hiss, then the rhythmic sound of footsteps on the running machine become audible.

‘We can get out of the hospital together,’ Jurek says.

There’s a knocking, then a rustling noise that gets gradually louder.

‘I don’t know if I want to,’ Saga replies.

‘Why not?’

‘I haven’t really got anything left outside.’

They can hear laughter on the television in the background.

‘Left? Going back is never an option... not to anything, but there are better places than this.’

‘And probably some worse,’ Saga says.

More knocking, then a sigh.

‘What did you say?’ she asks.

‘I just sighed, because it occurred to me that I can actually remember a worse place...’

His voice is oddly soft and hesitant as he continues:

‘The air was filled with the hum from high-voltage electricity wires... the roads were wrecked by big diggers... and the tracks full of red, clayey water, up to your waist... but I could still open my mouth and breathe.’

‘What do you mean?’ Saga says.

Applause and more laughter from the television.

‘That worse places might be preferable to better ones,’ Jurek replies, almost inaudibly.

The sound of breathing and heavy footsteps merge with a whining, hissing noise.

‘You’re thinking about your childhood?’ Saga Bauer says.

‘I suppose so,’ Jurek whispers.

They sit in total silence as Johan Jönson stops the recording and looks at Joona with a frown.

‘We’re not going to get any further with this,’ Pollock says.

‘What if Jurek’s saying something that we’re not getting,’ Joona persists, pointing at the screen. ‘There’s a gap here, isn’t there? Just after Saga says there are worse places outside the hospital.’

‘He sighs,’ Pollock says.

‘Jurek says he sighs, but are we sure that’s what he does?’ Joona asks.

Johan Jönson scratches his stomach, moves the cursor back, raises the volume and plays the segment again.

‘I need a cigarette,’ Corinne says, picking up her shiny handbag from the floor.

The speakers hiss, and there’s a loud creaking sound followed by an exhaled sigh.

‘What did I say?’ Pollock says, smiling broadly.

‘Try playing it slower,’ Joona insists.

Pollock is drumming nervously on the table. The clip plays again at half-speed, and now the sigh sounds like a storm sweeping ashore.

‘He’s sighing,’ Corinne says.

‘Yes, but there’s something about the pause, and the tone of his voice afterwards,’ Joona says.

‘Tell me what I should be looking for,’ Johan Jönson says, frustrated.

‘I don’t know... I want you to imagine that he’s actually saying something... even if it isn’t audible,’ Joona replies, smiling at his own answer.

‘I can certainly try.’

‘Isn’t it possible to raise and lower the sound until we know for certain if there’s anything in that silence or not?’

‘If I increase the sound pressure and intensity a few hundred times, the footsteps on the running machine would burst our eardrums.’

‘So get rid of the footsteps.’

Johan Jönson shrugs and makes a loop of that segment, stretches it out and then divides the sound into thirty different curves, ordered by hertz and decibels. Puffing his cheeks out, he highlights some of the curves and gets rid of them.

Each removed curve appears on a smaller screen instead.

Corinne and Pollock get up. They go outside onto the balcony and freeze for a while as they gaze out across the rooftops and the Philadelphia Church.

Joona remains seated and watches the painstaking work.

After thirty-five minutes Johan Jönson leans back and listens to the cleaned-up loop at various speeds, then removes another three curves and plays the result.

What’s left sounds like a heavy stone being dragged across a concrete floor.

‘Jurek Walter sighs,’ Johan Jönson declares, and stops the playback.

‘Shouldn’t those be lined up as well?’ Joona says, pointing to three of the removed curves on the smaller screen.

‘No, that’s just an echo that I removed,’ Johan says, then looks suddenly thoughtful. ‘But I could actually try to remove everything except the echo.’

‘He could have been facing the wall,’ Joona says quickly.

Johan Jönson highlights and moves the curves of the echo back again, multiplies the sound pressure and intensity by three hundred and replays the loop. Now the dragging sound resembles a shaky exhalation as it’s repeated at just under normal speed.

‘Isn’t there something there?’ Joona asks with renewed concentration.

‘There could be,’ Johan Jönson whispers.

‘I can’t hear it,’ Corinne says.

‘Well, it doesn’t sound like a sigh now,’ Johan Jönson admits. ‘But we can’t do any more to it, because at this level the longitudinal soundwaves start to blur with the transversal... and because they’re running at different rates, they’ll only cancel each other out.’

‘Try anyway,’ Joona says impatiently.