Songs From the Woodby Chris Harris |
Part 1 and Part 3 appear in this issue. |
| part 2 of 3 |
It was invaluable to begin the grouping of language styles. Soon a less chaotic understanding of the magnitude of the problem began to emerge. Tom didn’t believe in chaos and would define that word simply as “Un-cataloged Information.”
Nothing in this universe was random. Such concepts as chance, chaos and random occurrence were all the offspring of ignorance and blindness. Anything beyond known science became random, chance, chaos or even divine.
The next type of languages Tom labeled “Morse types.” These were based on the now redundant language of morse code. Speakers using this mode of communication would use audio, visual or time of day tags to denote single letters of words.
This language though, still followed a human train of thought. It was based on words actually meaning things as opposed to their being part of “The Compound Structure type,” that he was looking for. The purpose of this exercise was to confirm that compound meaning could still be constructed from “Morse-Type” foundations.
Tom’s computer was in constant use. He had it searching for picture languages, Morse-Picture hybrids and all other possible and impossible variations. Day and night its system purred.
The search criteria base was an ever growing file. The computer itself was continually finding new sub-groups and workable hybrids to analyze. Its job was to compare the framework of these languages and that of birdsong and to report on any similarities found.
Every day at eleven all work stopped. At this allotted time the system would print out its findings from the previous twenty four hours. It was always an exciting time, even when presented with the very cold “Number of matches zero,” statement.
Occasionally a page of matches appeared. That the similarities existed was never in doubt, but unraveling the consequences of such findings became immensely frustrating, The solutiontom had to accept was the purchase of another computer.
At great expense the second machine was installed. A few months later, with even less hair than before, and the new computer was ready to go. Its dual tasks would be to study positive leads as they happened and also to wade through the backlog of those found before.
Each day now presented Tom with two reports. The first machine was named Hunter with the second computer answering to the name of Gatherer. Hunter would still alert Tom of the total number of matches and Gatherer would decipher and report on any real language breakthroughs.
Somedays the search became laughable. After twenty four hours of continuous calculation and reassessment, all Tom had to show was two blank bits of paper. First Hunter would announce “Number of matches zero.”Then Gatherer would echo his catch phrase “Number of ciphers zero.”
It was now impossible for Gatherer to respond in any other way. The backlog search had been completed and so his remarks were directly related to the information supplied to him from Hunter during the last period. If Gatherer reported a hit from zero matches that would be severely freaky.
In some ways it was Gatherer’s job to report “Number of ciphers zero.” The day he said anything else would be the day when birdsong was cracked. To some degree the predictability of zero ciphers was tolerable but a little excitement now and then from Hunter was essential.
Tom continued his search for new types of languages . He discounted “Military code” types, as deception and concealment in nature seemed impossible. Sometimes however, he did feel strongly that the sounds he studied were anything but natural.
Surely the problem had a solution. All the clues were there before him and were simply components waiting to be assembled. He was studying the structure of the sounds, the positions at which they occurred and also the time that each letter or word was sung. Was patience the sole remaining factor, or would he miss finding the right tack.
Perhaps the phrase “Structure of the sounds “, was a key point. What about considering the structure of the “Sound,” itself. Maybe the relationships of various wavelengths was an important issue and worthy of some consideration he thought.
Looking at sounds as numbers was an interesting idea. The conversion of notes into the length of its soundwave added a surreal quality to Tom’s endeavors. This investigation was a complete diversion from any method of study he’d used before. Even if the results were negative, they still might open up new sub-groups when merged with elements of other experimental languages.
First he logged all the notes ever recorded. Then his computers scanned the entire database to measure the wavelength of each of the sounds. Preferring to use the frequency measurement of “Hertz,” he proceeded to calibrate the known alphabet with their individual hertz values.
The first problem encountered was that of pitch. The same note could exist, but with different frequencies. In fact the whole scale of notes in the musical spectrum repeated itself in either higher or lower pitches. Throwing the musicians handbook aside, he began focusing entirely on the frequency but still logged pitch shift on an arbitrary linear scale.
Tom called this potential language group, “Sound structures ". The analytical guidelines were given to Hunter and with modifications, also given to Gatherer. The net with which they now fished was baited with three quite diverse language styles and a multitude of hybrid sub-groups.
This additional work was beginning to over-tax Hunter. Gatherer of course had nothing to do unless a match was found by his co-worker and therefore spent much of the day doing absolutely nothing. Putting things right, Tom arranged that thirty percent of incoming data was routed through Gatherer to even the load.
How odd this task became. Looking at a language with no nouns with which to label the world around it seemed bizarre. Only machine languages spoke in such a way, and even they had tags that one could feasibly refer to as nouns.
There were other natural and similarly perplexing language types of course. The haunting sounds of the Whale and the clicking noises that dolphins made had both eluded all attempts at translation. Tom wondered if there might be a common denominator in the basic structures of such non- human languages.
As his computers worked, so did Tom. Currently he was re-visiting some of his early sound recordings. Using more powerful tools now than he possessed at the time, he was finding new sounds that were completely undetectable just a few years ago.
His latest equipment was a phenomenal piece of kit. The simplest of sounds became an orchestra when viewed in a purely electronic light. A split second of birdsong could be expanded on screen to reveal a myriad of individual notes and tunes.
Tom’s job, never lacking in its diversity, became even more intense. He had to decide which of the micro-notes held information and which represented imperfections in the larynx of the bird. As with humans, the singing skills of individual birds, their age, and even the humidity of the air were all variables.
The speed or flow rate of words was another issue. Were conversations concluded in seconds or did they last for days. With only a limited awareness of the vocabulary involved and no understanding at all of the subject matter, the rate of information within the speech remained a mystery.
Making assumptions would be foolish. To imagine a fundamentally different language running at the same speed as our own didn’t make sense. Trying however to visualize sentences taking days or mili-seconds was equally daunting.
Something was missing. Beyond the rational study of a subject, born perhaps of obsession or self-deception, was a feeling. As logical and methodical as Tom was, he had the distinct impression that he was hearing only half the conversation.
For all his life Tom had listened to the birdsong of the wood. His passionto understand its meaning, had led to an ongoing and increasingly intense interrogation of its construction. Could a subtle understanding be slowly evolving now in his subconscious mind; was he beginning to feel the meanings of the language around him ?
What if he was right. Who or what was supplying the other half of the conversation. And was it the questions or the answers that he could hear to the questions and answers that he couldn’t. How could he possibly detect the other half of the mystery, and would it help if even if he could?
He started to study the gaps. Replies to their songs were surely to be in the moments when the birds fell silent. Or could it be that the entire night, for the most part devoid of sound, was devoted to answering the questions of the day.
Once again Tom widened the search criteria. He could almost hear the sighs as a very disgruntled Hunter and then Gatherer, began to include this latest instruction in their tasks. “Analyzing the gaps,” he said to them, “Often leads to solving the most complex chain of events”; they did not look convinced.
There were two ways to attack the “The Gap” issue. First was to see if the gaps themselves displayed any harmonizing symmetry with the songs. Secondly the gaps, if they were valid parts of the converstion, would have something in them with which to participate.
“Gap-Song” symmetry was now in the search routine of Hunter and Co. Tom began to try and find anything in the gaps that might even vaguely resemble communication. Starting with ultra-sound, he was encouraged to find almost immediate results.
The ultra-sound choice was not entirely random. Some years ago he’d read of such sounds being at ancient monuments and also during certain phases of the moon. These effects were an everyday reality to druids and Pagan cultures and were closely linked perhaps to some of natures now forgotten truths.
Science had a tendency to outlaw the unexplained. Tom’s open mind however led him to utilize some of nature's mysteries to unravel some of its others. The very real and detectable presence of ultra-sound had clearly justified his faith.
Tom laced the entire woods with new microphones. Placing them alongside existing installations, these more specialized tools were dedicated to responding to ultra high sound frequencies. Naturally they showed no response at all to birdsong, so if ultra sound was indeed corresponding with those sounds, how curious that would be.
It had taken four weeks to install them all. Forty five trees had to be climbed, a completely new monitoring console purchased and god knows how many miles of cable laid, all before the switch could be thrown.
At last the moment had arrived. Aching with both anticipation and physical exhaustion, Tom ceremoniously approached the control panel. With a glass of lager, in preference to one of champagne, the ritual of the “Throwing of the switch,” and the commissioning of the new listening gear was performed.
Immediately the board sprang into life. All meters showed the presence of ultra-sound, but in levels varying from the barest glimmer, to down right loud. Flicking another switch filled the room with an audible representation of the chatter.
The origins of the sound weren’t known. Well beyond the normal range of hearing, it was only dogs, some human sensitives and scientific equipment that could monitor it. The sounds could not be traced to a source and appeared simply to seep out of the air itself; it was an eerie phenominum.
Was the presence of such sounds in the daytime relevant? The idea that daytime birdsong was replied to by ultra-sound at night, seemed implausible if the latter, as was the case, continued for both day and night.
There was a marked difference however in the transmissions at night. The sounds became generally louder and more frantic reaching a climax just before dawn. And when the dawn chorus began, all meters dropped as the unheard ultra-sound became truly silent.
Tom was sure that a correlation existed. Hunter and Gatherer kept coming up with bizarre similarities linking birdsong to ultra-sound but could offer no hard and fast proof; |they were guessing. Not averse to such speculation, Tom encouraged the practice and even threw in a few tangential ideas of his own.
The melting pot of input and ideas began to boil. Was it possible that a third party was involved with the dialogue of the wood? Could the positions of the sun and moon, along with associated gravity fluctuations be a factor? Did sunlight itself carry encoded information within the hertz value of its radiation?
Facts, although rare, were still facts. And the fact that sunlight, phases of the moon, ultra-sound and birdsong, all danced to the same tune, was now a mathematical truth. How the tune went was still any body’s guess, but that its contributors worked in harmony was no longer in doubt.
Copyright © 2007 by Chris Harris
