Deadly Audio by Josiah K.
Little did I know, I would be screwed. Likely, I will never be the same. A few hours ago, I thought this was an opportunity to get a nice raise. Helping to improve mankind, overall benefiting society–these were just sprinkles on the cake. But oh boy, I could not be any farther from the truth.
DARPA keeps their programs tight and makes us keep our mouths tighter. But a guy on his deathbed just wants someone to know his story. You may have heard of Havana Syndrome, but you probably don’t know this: a certain audio file, when played at frequencies above 17 kHZ, can cause the kind of hallucination that could make the sanest person go crazy. The trick was figuring out what it sounds like. The problem, of course, is that no one knows: the human adult can only hear sounds below 16 kHZ. So you could only identify it by its aftereffects–but by then, you’d already be on the way to cuckoo land.
The Cuban neurology professor who created it loves two things–according to his file: human suffering and roast pork. There is only so much you can do with human suffering while staying within the many rules of DARPA so roast pork it is. By the time I show up with his Lechon Asado order in its telltale styrofoam container with the checkered red parchment, I notice that his English is better than my Spanish, a bad sign. I hand him the pork in one hand and taser him with the other, watching the electric shock waves crackling through his body. He moved gitterishly, before falling to the ground. I press two pieces of scotch tape against his fingerprints, the only access I hope I need.
Problem was, I didn’t know where the man kept his beloved files. Luckily, the university campuses were easy to infiltrate. By the time I located his office with his name and initials engraved across the office door, I also noticed no less than three iPhone 15s, a set of Tesla keys, a duo of souped up PCs with specs I couldn’t even identify. But buried between all the latest technology was one thing I’d never thought I’d see: a tape desk. Why would a man with the most advanced tech in the world have a tape player on his desk?
It dawned on me that a tape was the only form of audio that could not be easily copied. What safer place to store the world’s most dangerous sonic weapon than a cassette? Half the world’s population wouldn’t be able to identify it. The other who would, likely wouldn’t have the kind of ancient device needed to play it, much less duplicate it. I grabbed it and stuffed it in my pocket.
I don’t remember what happened next, except a hand lunging towards my face, and then a black screen covering my eyesight. My fingers tensed around the object in my pocket, ready to use it at a moment's notice.