Audio Slave (To Be Yourself is All that You Can Do); Part 1

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2 years ago

I wrote this story a long time ago (2003, when I was in high school). Since it's been sitting unread and collecting dust, the paper on which it is written fraying and fading, I thought I'd haul it out, spruce it up a bit and see if I can earn anything for it.


There was one thing in particular that most gave away that Peter "Tantalum" Zobrieski was not just a meliophile, but an audiophile. It wasn't his external hard-drive almost full of lossless music and titled so — containing not only WAV file samples of the highest fidelity, OGG and FLAC versions of his now-defunct and dust-collecting CD collection, but also software installers for equalisers, drum machines, synthesizers, DAWs and wave manipulators. It wasn't his vinyl collection of Rock & Roll greats, nor his dance and techno albums (some of which contained tracks he's made himself from the aforementioned samples and his equipment). If it was anything, it was the directories full of fax/dial-up modem warbles, cellular phone interference and interstellar static/radio noise clips. If a NASA or space observatory aerial antenna/receiver had recorded it, Peter probably had it.

It was not this alone that gave him away; there were other factors to consider. If you looked around his basement, you would notice the ridged sound-proof panels on the walls and cork-board ceiling. You'd notice the high-end shiny chrome trim perspex-paneled PC tower with the extra fans and copper water cooling system. The pièce de résistance, though, was the custom-built additional IO panel festooned with all sorts of ports and LEDs (no 3.5mm, though; grounding is vital to eliminate noise and static) mounted in two consecutive drive bays. Cables of all colours, lengths and thicknesses protruded from it, running to all sorts of musical hardware: a virtual drum set, a keyboard or two, modulators, demuxers, logic level translators, amplifiers, guitars (both lead and bass), microphones ... If it made a sound and had a port or two of some description, it was probably there and connected to something. Inside the case, cables lead from it to the dedicated sound card with its massive heat-sink glowing like a radioactive green-tinged, gilled, ancient temple to the gods of sound. The fluctuating RGB lights that pulsed rhythmically to the beat of whatever was currently playing cast eerily alien shadows across the room and the man in it.

If one cared to further examine the contents of this netherworld, one would notice Peter's two colossal 21" flat screen monitors, one usually resplendent in the glow of a spectrometer or whatever was the visualisation du jour. Sometimes it was the artwork of the Audioslave album his parents had given to him for his twenty-fifth birthday. In Peter's mind, being presented with this gift was complete confirmation that they seriously misunderstood his affliction.

Not far from the computer, Peter's mixing desk (an expensive piece of equipment with its many knobs, sliders and dials) was to be found. Next to that sat the lighting effects panel, with one switch and dial for every RGB LED. If one of the lights blinked for a few seconds (individually or in harmony with others), Peter could tell what that meant. Not just that, but isolating and analysing the accompanying beep (or beeps) would give him further insight into the event. He was no stranger to das blinkenlights, having spent a great many hours learning the arcane arts of both early computing and sound engineering (most of it self-taught or through online courses). He could even explain to you what they meant, if you made the mistake of showing an interest and maintaining concentration for a few minutes before your eyes glazed over and your brain went wonky from the nerd-jacking it received. (Many moons ago, this had been the fate of his younger brother Jack, whose impressionable sponge-like mind had absorbed a lot of this information — a veritable and invaluable kick-start to his studying to be a sound engineer juggling his part-time employment as both a session musician and DJ. On his trips home, he'd drop by to spend a week or two with Peter and they'd collaborate on releasing an album. Both kept themselves heavily involved and busy with sound and music, much to the despair of their parents. Why couldn't their sons pursue traditional and stable careers as bankers, doctors or lawyers?)

Despite his isolation, Pieter was more at home with his odd techy beauties and instruments (mostly payed for by his independent music career, half by indulgent rich relatives) and more comfortably familiar with them than he would have been with the assortment of idiots, hangers-on and leeches the average person calls friends. He had a difficult time relating to other people, except his brother and long-term girlfriend, Dianne, since they shared his passion for sound and experimentation therewith.

It was their mutual obsession for sound and tech (and an introduction by Jack) that had brought Peter and Dianne together, held them close. (Plus, as Steve Tyler of Aerosmith noted, having sex to your own music really is orgasmic.) At thirty-six, Peter was Dianne's senior by two years, though in many ways she was far more socially experienced and street-smart than he. Without her and Jack, it's doubtful any of their efforts would have caught the attention of the public. Dianne's penchant for gothic leather attire and shockingly vivid hair in outlandish styles could also be part of the appeal to legions of socially awkward and reclusive bit-heads like Peter. It was she who had persuaded the brothers that "Kings of Geekdom" wasn't a band name with mass appeal, despite their target audience. Something a little darker/edgier and more sinister was required.

The triad, however, doesn't fall into the stereotypical "geek" category (although geeks they most certainly are). The brothers are quite stocky and unconventionally handsome if you like your men pale, brooding and considerably disheveled. Dianne's gender alone made her an exception in a predominantly male-dominated sphere, but she was no mousy, shrinking violet brainy bookworm either. Wild, rebellious, tattooed and pierced of ear and brow, both her parents and the Zobrieski 's considered her a cultural and moral bad influence on the men (much to Peter's delight). Her social skills and charm had steered Peter through many a situation in which he reluctantly found himself. Yet, they have a certain pride to be so designated; calling them nerds would have been offensive. (I'm not going to go into the finer details of the differences here, but those that know, know. Perhaps this will be written as an appendix or final part.)

As stated previously, Diane, Peter and Jack did not fall into this "typical geek" category. Although they are pale from lack of exposure to sunlight (less so in Dianne and Jack's cases and nothing unusual in their part of Europe), they weren't rake-thin weeds and had fairly well-defined muscles from all the exercise they'd got at the local gym and distance training they'd undertaken in order to compensate for long hours spend in Peter's basement. Besides, some of his gear was considerably heavy, like the concrete-bodied guitar he'd built purely out of interest to see if/how that would affect the acoustics.

They are devoid of the typical under-eye bags from late night computer sessions and the pimples of youth, having (mostly) attended to regular and sufficient sleep and skin care regimes. Keeping an eye on the time/schedule meant not spending more than twelve hours a day glued to a computer. Leisure time is important, too: reading technical documentation/manuals, classifieds and catalogues for second-hand instruments and new tech or the latest editions of bi-monthly magazines on computers and related technology. (Dawn had attended dance classes since a young age and had fairly successfully persuaded an initially reluctant Peter to join her on occasion.) Being a part-time working man, Jack shaved fairly regularly.

It is their technology and passion, the time and money invested in it (and using it for fun and profit) that makes them audiophiles, "audio slaves", with Peter's CD standing ironic testament to their achievements.


End of part 1. To be continued, if there's sufficient interest.


Lead image: Photo by Mike Birdy from/on Pexels

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