Noise X Noisette Novels & Stories

They've covered their mics so you can't hear them as they listen in, nodding as she speaks, their eyes fixed on her. “Academy competitors, what’s your answer?” The announcer asks and the room falls silent. Myles nods at Nicole and everyone seems to finally relax, smiles swimming across their faces. “I guess they weren’t joking about giving her the questions they couldn’t answer.” I say, and he laughs.

Ben adjusted his spectacles slightly and stood in front of everyone, looking at everyone nervously as he had never spoken in front of an audience before, He spoke in a low voice and said, "Hi, My name is Ben Chase and my family number is 0" The entire class went into an uproar.

"Stomach noise, one decibel over the limit. A fine of 10 dollars has been added to your tab. You now owe me 245 dollars." I lowered my head as tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. I could not cry. Crying would cost me 100 dollars per second and I could not afford it. I clenched my jaw and forced the tears back. "Eat," Dad said, lifting a piece of chicken onto his own plate. "Remember, there's no such thing as a free lunch. There's no such thing as free noise either." The doorbell rang, sharp and urgent. The decibel meter jumped to 70 and Dad's brow creased, his expression darkening. "Some people have no manners at all."

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

" No. No! NO! No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No No

It's a military-grade acoustic amplifier, fitted with two directional steel cones on the front panel. "Then stop holding back," Cassius says coldly, stepping back to let her work. "We have twenty minutes before the morning assembly convenes. I want that confession signed, recorded, and ready to play on the main hall screens before Valerius takes the floor." Noelle takes the heavy black device, her fingers gripping the side handles tight. She smiles down at me, a nasty, sharp look in her dark eyes that makes my stomach drop. "Let's see how tough your mind is when I turn the volume up, Silas," she whispers.

Even the couch cushions seemed compressed by the sound that had only just left. Nao was on the floor with a tangle of cables, sorting them with the focus of someone defusing a bomb. He had a system in his hands. Over-under. Coil. Tap the loop against the floor once like a promise. He breathed through his nose, calm, as if the mess respected him. A zip tie sat between his lips, then his fingers, then cinched tight with a plastic click.

She took out her phone and played the said recording; and indeed, all of them heard buzzing noises, switching frequencies and long silence. "Could it be a signal jammer or some kind of device that does the same as the signal jammer?" Damian thought loudly, holding his chin. He appeared to be in deep thought, to him, he heard of a device that can jam noises— there's a specific word for them, although they are mostly known as jammers. However, he pushed the question to the back of his mind and listened to Hestia.

"It’s to replace that sad excuse you’ve been hauling to every away game." Noah snorted. "Hey, that bag’s vintage." "That bag was a threat to public health." Grinning, Noah leaned across the table and kissed him quickly. "Fine. Thank you. It’s the nicest bag in the world." Sterling reached under the table and set a second package in front of him. "You’re doing more?" "Of course." Noah opened the next gift, pulling out a set of matte black, high-end noise-cancelling headphones. When he turned them in his hands, he caught the subtle engraving: Rivers #88.

Maybe there’s no difference. At half past midnight, I open my laptop and place an order. Noise machine. Custom frequency settings. Uploadable tracks. I select the file myself: a collection of classical pieces she mentioned once—Debussy, Chopin, Satie—quiet, human things with edges soft enough to touch. Add: silk eye mask. Color: black. Gift note: For the hours that won’t behave. Delivery: 6 a.m. sharp. When I finish, I lean back and stare at the confirmation screen.