The Four Sounds of Silence
You have to let go of something you treasure.
There were different sounds of silence and Leila had grown fond of each one.
The first was a white noise, one that consumed the harsh sounds of the city outside her permanently open window. It was the sound of concentration, of determination and bleary, late nights. It fell around her shoulders like her mother’s hugs and wrapped around her ears like the wool scarves her grandmother handmade. It was a subtle buzz that accompanied the buzz of energy that she felt when tweaking, twisting, and bending the metal pieces of her latest creation; or rather, the latest addition to her only creation.
The second was an odd absence of noise, mixed with the air of tender vibrations. It was the calm after a riot downtown when fires extinguished themselves, opposing sides retreated and weapons sheathed. It was the quiet after another verbal battle between her struggling parents that ended with the slam of the porch screen door. It was the lack of commotion after all the wandering perpetrators had been rounded up from the crowded street bars, whiskey and vomit on their breaths as they tried to throw their last weak-willed punches.
The third came later in her life and hadn’t left since the moment it began: the silence of being completely deaf.
She’d learned there were varying degrees of deafness, from a cultural and medical standpoint. Some heard low pitches but failed to register the high, or vice versa. Others had damage to a specific ear, partial hearing, hearing based on frequencies. In the earlier times, before fossil fuels had been exhausted from the Earth and metal was made the new source of energy, cochlear implants had been common to “correct” the “disability”.
Leila didn’t feel disabled. Not being able to hear was a challenge, among many that life presented her, to overcome. It did not leave her unable or helpless; in fact, she was more capable without hearing. She had a job at the junkyard, a passion for invention, and a life that consisted of those two aspects only. If she could see, she could do what she needed.
When the replacement energy, fueled by scrap metals began running out, junk yards were reborn from the previous connotations of worthless trash to a multimillion dollar industry full of treasure. The government and the rich controlled facilities around the country, selling spare parts for outrageous sums. Heavily guarded and regulated through a strict interviewing process, it was almost impossible to obtain any parts, but with the rampant monopolies came the rise of those who despised the system and would do anything to take from them.
Leila was familiar was crime, saw it happen everyday. To witness breaking and entering was a common occurrence. People didn’t report sightings for fear of backlash or personal vendettas. Cafes, restaurants and the like were the second major targets, a frequent spot for hostage situations demanding whole units of silverware in return for lives.
Being so young, there wasn’t much she could do. So the older she became, the higher she aimed. It took a lot of convincing, a few pages of fake resume letters, and pretending to hear for the governor to acquiesce and give her a spot as a guard at the junkyard closest to her home. She was barely a sheriff, working the nightshift while she built her inventions when no one was supervising.
Well, just a singular invention. RUDY was designed to be the first personal AI for children who needed a friend with knowledge. He was compact, no larger in size than a plate or thicker than a shoebox, complete with a motherboard, four terrain-conquering wheels and a customizable voice. The first edition of RUDY was complete with a screen and speech-to-text feature so the hard of hearing could understand.
Leila had ruminated on the concept for a while, long before she could make the system a reality. He was still disorganized, covered in exposed wires and rusty metal parts that squealed every time he moved in a wobbly crawl. He hesitated before answering questions and never sounded sure of himself. She just needed to make a few more adjustments and she would call him complete.
Being an inventor during the era of low resources was difficult at best, but Leila had found method to fulfill her demands: She stole from her job. She knew right from wrong, and it was clearly wrong, but that didn’t stop her. As long as she wasn’t caught, she would continue to borrow the small amount she needed. Besides, she would pay them back later after she earned her well-deserved success.
Tonight, no different than any other, Leila work on RUDY while feeling the vibrations of the yard through her feet. Her post was located on the first floor of the security office, which blocked anyone from entering the yard without checking in first. From her desk at the corner of the room, she could gaze down a sea of assorted browns, reds, and silvers that stretched down the entire lot and watch for any sign of life that wasn’t antibiotic resistant tetanus or the occasional dog on patrol.
It was peaceful most nights. No one with half a brain dared to raid government secure yards, so Leila wasn’t worried.
RUDY’s latest glitch had been a pesky firewall blocking access to most search engine websites and she intended to fix the problem before tonight’s shift was over. Leila cracked her knuckles, the bones of one and the bolts of another, before slipping on a pair of worn dishwashing gloves.
“Okay RUDY, sit tight for me, bud.” She cooed gently as she flipped him on his back to access the underbelly. He said nothing as she rummaged through the cardboard box at her feet serving as a temporary toolbox, pulling out a flathead screwdriver and goggles.
“RUDY,” she repeated, hoping to elicit a response. The goggles snapped over her eyes and the screwdriver added a nice weight to her prosthetic hand.
“Leila,” he said, his speech languid and a few pitches lower than normal; it was the fear mechanism she had programmed into him, with consultation through a pitch regulator online and the bass of her speakers cranked to full capacity.
“You’ll be fine.” Leila wasn’t used to being soft with the people she knew. Everyone was hardened by the life they had to live, salvaging, fighting, stealing, and she wasn’t any different. RUDY wasn’t programmed to be similar to humans. He was innocent, though he knew of the blunt realities of the world. He didn’t have to be that way, but Leila preferred it so, for the quality of his nature was refreshing.
With steadied hands, she began to unscrew the pieces holding his insides together. RUDY laughed a broken laugh.
“That tickles!” Leila scoffed playfully, placing the plates in a pile next to her flickering lamp.
“According to HaaarVard- PrinCEton- Stanford, upwards of 1.2 million nervous system surgeries are performed every year.”
“Fascinating,” Leila mumbled, removing the final slab. She clamped several of his wires aside to expose his computer. She needed to distract him, so he didn’t freak out. His batteries were still intact, leaving him conscious. He couldn’t feel pain but she assumed it must be frightening nonetheless.
“What are the chances of my survival?”
“Fairly high.” Leila popped open the compartment that housed the “desktop” screen and started it up. She fished her hand to the left, grabbing the USB for her keyboard, necessary to breakdown the firewall.
“What happens if I don’t?”
There was no point in lying to him.
“You will die, and I will rebuild you,” Leila answered as she typed in a series of passwords to unlock the settings.
“Will I be the same as I am now?” Leila paused, staring at the neon green lettering until her vision went spotted. His conversation function had definitely improved from his constant talking and interrogation but this was a milestone in terms of personal philosophy.
She resumed her fiddling, a short routine check up before searching for the problem area and said,
“I don’t see why not.”
RUDY was silent again and Leila fell into white noise as she worked. It turns out RUDY’s problem was just a weak internet connection! All she had to do was…
Leila halted once more, not because her hand was cramping or RUDY had asked a nonsensical question. She recognized the vibration as someone entering through the main lobby door. No one was supposed to take over her shift for a few hours. She looked at the security cameras but saw only a blur of movement, followed by darkness. Someone had cut the cameras offline.
Leila spun around in her chair as the vibrations amplified under her. The floor shook the bottoms of her bare feet like static waves come to life, shocking her into a fight or flight response. Soon after, the door swung open and three individuals wielding guns burst through the door in a front.
She could see the man at the head of the front, presumably the leader, was yelling as he shook the pistol forcefully at her. Leila closed her eyes and took a deep breath, curling her metallic hand into a fist.
“How may I help you?” She mustered her “calm customer service” voice to try and talk him down, but to no avail. He kept shouting, turning around to say something to his lackeys, before facing her once more. The others stood strong but were losing their composure as they eyed Leila curiously.
One of them, a woman with dirt smudges on her cheeks and short blond hair hit the ranting leader’s shoulder. He scowled, chewing the woman out until his face fell. It was his turn to eye Leila, as if she was an escaped circus lion.
“Hello?” Leila could read the words from his cracked lips, over exaggerated as if that would help her hear. His face contorted into an offensive portrait of someone trying to hear, struggling to walk and bumping into objects. The two behind him laughed and mimicked along with him. Clearly, they were amused with the idea of diverse bodies. Leila, however, was not.
As the sick game of Charades carried on, Leila felt hot. Her blood was boiling and her hands were shaking, aching to return to RUDY before she did something reckless. She wheeled around to her desk, hoping they wouldn’t hurt who they assumed was a poor little deaf girl.
When she felt the hand land on her shoulder, intending to spin her around again, Leila snapped. She stood up and pulled minion #1 in toward her body to twist his arm. The vibrations of his yelp coursed through her with a satisfying zap. He struggled against her hold and swung a few times, which landed, but she continued to fight back. In the end, he fell to the ground in a heap, blood on his hands and running from his nose from the swift kick Leila had administered.
The woman rushed her the moment he was down. Leila ducked and grabbed at the woman’s legs, pinning her to the ground and punching with her solid hand.
When it was over, Leila stood up, heaving and covered in a mixture of bloods. With lidded eyes, she gazed at the front man, who had been watching his soldiers wear themselves out, without doing any of the grunt work. She spit the drool from her split lip at the man’s shoes and wiped the grime from her forehead.
“You’re tough for a girl.” Leila rolled her eyes. He looked pained when he said it, as if it was hard to admit she was a good fighter.
“I can’t hear you.” She couldn’t, but she could read lips sometimes. This was one of those times, though she would rather use her lack of hearing to it’s full advantages.
“I know,” he laughed and it showed in his whole body, from the jerks of his shoulders to the crinkle next to his eyes.
“We could use someone like you on our side.”
“Still can’t hear you,” Leila huffed, quickly turning back to catch a glance at RUDY. He must have gone into sleep mode, if the words SNORE were any indication.
The robber waved his hand, clearing the statement out of the air between them. He stalked the perimeter of the room, analyzing what little technology was stored in the room, occasionally examining them by hand. Leila took this moment to catch her breath and plan the next move.
Leila tensed as the man wandered closer to her and her desk where RUDY was fast asleep. He stepped closer, attempting to peak behind and Leila shuffled to block his view.
“What’s that?” he sniffed, pointing over her shoulder with an intrusive finger, more soot than skin visible draped over bone.
“Nothing.” She grit her teeth and steeled her spine into a straight line, a fist by her side, ready to strike.
He made an attempt to brush past and Leila immediately swung. He was quicker though, and pushed her with a rough shove. She stumbled to the side but regained her footing to jump at him. It was too late; he had snatched RUDY off the table in a rude awakening, wires tangled and cradling his body.
“Who are you?” RUDY spoke in the same slurred voice, blinking at the stranger before him.
“More importantly, who are you?” he asked, prodding the little robot.
“RUDY, short for Rudimentary Model!” He sounded proud, the way he boasted his primitive, early development status. All the while, Leila couldn’t move. Her mind was stuck in an endless loop of worse case scenarios.
“Fancy contraption you have here,” he chuckled darkly over his shoulder.
“Be gentle with him, please.” Leila tried not to beg, but she was desperate. She could feel the tears pooling behind her eyes but sucked them back in. The man continued to talk, adding more to his own one-sided dialogue.
“He could earn me a pretty penny in the Market.” Leila knew he was referring to the underground trade deal of untraceable spare parts, similar to a warranty but for thieves. She growled a fierce, gravelly sound.
“You don’t know how long I’ve worked and I will not let you destroy him.” She swiftly reached around to reclaim RUDY when she felt a sharp pain stick into her stomach.
“Back up, deaf girl,” he warned lowly, a testing smirk spreading his leathery face. Leila backed up as she was told, hands outstretched.
“Move again and I’ll cut him up right now.” Leila didn’t need to hear to understand what was happening.
“You’ve earned my respect tonight, so I won’t murder you or your family. Next time, don’t beat up my men or there will be fatal consequences.” He punctuated the threat with his dagger, a pretend across his throat and Leila felt her own tighten up instinctively.
“For now, a warning.” He laughed again like a trumpet sounding for battle.
No amount of mortal speed could have saved RUDY. Leila watched, a helpless scream rattling behind her teeth as the man threw him on the ground and stepped down. RUDY wailed, a sickening crunch vibrating through the barren room.
Hot tears, the one she had so desperately tried to contain, began to stream down her cheeks at the sight of a lifeless RUDY, crumbled and broken. Years of hard work she put into perfecting him, ounces of stolen and refurbished parts, gone in a moment of idiocy and greed.
A hollow loss washed over her as he reached down to collect the mangled remains of her life’s purpose. Leila saw darkness as she lunged forward, hands clawing, legs kicking, lungs fighting for breath. She managed to land a few well-placed hits before he defended himself.
She knew the saying “never bring a knife to a gunfight”, but they should really reprimand about bringing a knife to a knife fight.
A slash across the face, cutting wet pupils as shining moons do. She staggered back in sharp breath, grasping at where the blood was now leaking out. The pain was unbearable, rendering her exposed and unable to fight. She curled into a ball, hoping to protect herself from any more blows.
None came.
The metal of her prosthetic hand stung her face, smelled of putrid salt and metallic blood that made her vomit onto the floor beside her matted hair, beside the skeleton of her only friend.
She rocked herself back and forth, as a mother would for her newborn child, waiting to be found in the fourth silence.
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