Savage Tales

converged.
    There were no doors or windows on the building, no apertures of any kind visible. No activity to be seen. No life. The material was adobe-colored, an indeterminate substance. I was called in again.
    "What makes you think it's the same… creatures?" I said.
    "We're not sure it is, but it may as well be. It's just as cryptic. I want you to get out there today. Here's your flight info to Phoenix. Major Davis will meet you there and take you to the site. Oh, and this is all to be kept strictly confidential, I don't think I need to tell you, but I am. We set up blinds as soon as we found it and don't think any other countries know of it yet. That may be completely wrong, but nobody's publicized it and we want to keep it that way."
    "Right."

    My plane landed and we didn't even have a chance for breakfast. We went straight to the scene of the thing. I hesitate to call it a building.
    We walked along its perimeter, and as we did, I saw something.
    "What's that?" I said.
    Major Davis looked where I pointed. "What is that?" he said. "That wasn't there before."
    It was a hole in the side of the building, like a doorway, and just big enough for a man to go through. There were troops stationed around us, but nobody higher up to tell us what to do.
    "We've got to go in," I said. "That thing could close soon and this might be our only chance to find out what it is."
    "You can't go in there, sir. You don't have permission."
    But I ran. I heard him yell from behind me. "Stop or I'll shoot! I can't let you go in there."
    I ignored him and kept running.

    Inside it. The door sealed shut behind me and darkness except a corpuscular crimson reflecting from the veined interior. No beings. An eerie motion. And light… it felt like I had become light.
    It became harder to think. Like my words had stopped working. And I stopped wondering. This building. A cell. Floating. Like me. Floating. Like us. Floating.
    I started…
    Seeing things from another way. And became it my way. My way… became it. Becoming. Him inside my parts. The spaceship. All. Us. Inside. The clicking, whirring, vortex spirals down upon us. All as it.
    The anthill. The sounds. Sound. The beehive. Gone.

    "He just ran in. I couldn't stop him!"
    "You'll be court-martialed, you idiot. You just threw your life out the window."
    "I'm sorry."
    But then the door opened again and there he was.
    "He's safe!" said Major Davis. "He's coming out!"
    The man stumbled out and fell in the desert sand.
    They took him to the hospital and had a guard posted on him constantly.

    "Well?"
    "What happened to him?" said the doctor.
    "I'm sorry, we can't tell you that."
    "Damn your military secrets. This is a man's life! How can I be expected to help him –"
    "Just do your best, doctor."

    When the man finally started speaking again, nobody knew what it was. It was a purring gibberish of furry consonants and muddied vowels that came from the bowels of his lips.

    The army got him out of there around that time and took him to closed rooms for long tests. They classified him as an idiot now, whatever linguistic faculty he once possessed.
    His skin began to flake prolifically and his nose would randomly bleed, and nobody knew why.
    After several weeks of tests the men in lab coats who administered these things began to behave strangely. They had trouble writing their notes. They argued over inconsequential matters, and finally started getting violent with each other without provocation. They had to be removed and studied in isolation themselves.
    New men were recruited to test the man who had gone inside. New precautions were taken. Whatever had contaminated those men would not infect these.
    Glass separated them from the cracked man. White suits of plastic were worn at all times.
    After a few weeks of interaction, these men too succumbed.
    The army began to study the phenomenon even more meticulously.
    Meanwhile, the building in the Arizona desert remained. No further openings emerged.

    After another month the "disease" had spread to the general population. Its method of dispersion remained unknown.
    Finally, a Chinese poet noticed that the deaf had not been infected.
    Auditory transmission was investigated. Yes, it seemed to be the case.
    Ear plugs were sold by the billions.
    The world became quieter and visual communication came to dominate.
    The babblers expired and a new generation emerged, a generation that had forgotten the sound world. A generation born with ear plugs always