Hypnosis Microphone 소설 & 이야기

The only thing left in the center of the open floor was a pair of high-fidelity Shure SM7B microphones mounted on iron desk stands, their black cables snaking across the grease-stained wood toward a portable four-channel digital recorder that was currently running on six AA batteries. "The volume's dipping, Sie," Sophie said. She was standing by the massive four-meter-high windows, her back pressed against a raw brick pillar that still carried the charred scoring of a 1912 textile fire. Her fingers were wrapped around a paper cup of stale black coffee, her eyes tracking the movement of a pair of unflagged black utility vans that had been idling near the corner of Varick Street for forty-five

"Miss Jackson, are you sure you want to undergo hypnosis? You should know that once it begins, it's irreversible. Your body will be controlled by an alternate personality, and you'll fall into a sleep from which you'll never wake up," the doctor asked gravely over the phone. "Yes, I'm sure," Nina replied calmly. Before the call ended, there was a sudden noise at the door—Lucas Spencer had returned. Nina hung up and silently walked to the living room.

A technician greeted her and began clipping a discreet mic to the neckline of her outfit, slipping the wire through to a small transmitter pack, which was fastened at the back of her waistband. “I need you to speak,” the woman said to Adrea and then continued when she got a confused glance, “Just a word for sound levels.” Oh. She wanted her to test the microphone. Sure, she could do that. “Focused,” Adrea said while keeping her voice even. “Hopefully,” Aris muttered. Adrea ignored him. The tech gave a thumbs-up. “You’re all set,” the woman said after a quick nod to the tech guy, “Table two. We’re starting in ten.”

“Take the necklace out of the box. The hypnosis might work better if you’re actually holding it.” Layla took the necklace out of the box and held it in her right hand. “I’ve turned on the recorder,” the doctor stated. “This is Doctor Victoria Samuelson. It is Thursday, November second. The patient I am about to put under hypnosis is Layla Miles. Layla, please confirm your name for the record.” “Layla Miles.” “Do I have your permission to record this session?” “Yes.” “All right. Now, I want you to close your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice.”