{"id":26339,"date":"2026-02-23T11:44:26","date_gmt":"2026-02-23T15:44:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=26339"},"modified":"2026-02-23T11:44:28","modified_gmt":"2026-02-23T15:44:28","slug":"roald-dahl-the-sound-machine","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/roald-dahl-the-sound-machine\/26339\/","title":{"rendered":"Roald Dahl: The Sound Machine"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis:<\/strong> \u201cThe Sound Machine\u201d is a science fiction short story by Roald Dahl, published on September 17, 1949, in The New Yorker<\/em>. It tells the story of Klausner, a solitary and obsessive man who builds a device capable of detecting sounds inaudible to the human ear. Convinced that the world is filled with hidden voices, he tests his invention in the garden and makes a disturbing discovery as he observes how the plants react. His fascination turns into mounting unease as he ventures deeper into an invisible sonic realm that could radically transform our understanding of plant sensitivity.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"Roald<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The Sound Machine<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Roald Dahl
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a warm summer evening and Klausner walked quickly through the front gate and around the side of the house and into the garden at the back. He went on down the garden until he came to a wooden shed and he unlocked the door, went inside and closed the door behind him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The interior of the shed was an unpainted room. Against one wall, on the left, there was a long wooden workbench, and on it, among a littering of wires and batteries and small sharp tools, there stood a black box about three feet long, the shape of a child\u2019s coffin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Klausner moved across the room to the box. The top of the box was open, and he bent down and began to poke and peer inside it among a mass of different-coloured wires and silver tubes. He picked up a piece of paper that lay beside the box, studied it carefully, put it down, peered inside the box and started running his fingers along the wires, tugging gently at them to test the connexions, glancing back at the paper, then into the box, then at the paper again, checking each wire. He did this for perhaps an hour.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he put a hand around to the front of the box where there were three dials, and he began to twiddle them, watching at the same time the movement of the mechanism inside the box. All the while he kept speaking softly to himself, nodding his head, smiling sometimes, his hands always moving, the fingers moving swiftly, deftly, inside the box, his mouth twisting into curious shapes when a thing was delicate or difficult to do, saying, \u201cYes . . . Yes . . . And now this one . . . Yes . . . Yes. But is this right? Is it\u2014where\u2019s my diagram? . . . Ah, yes . . . Of course . . . Yes, yes . . . That\u2019s right . . . And now . . . Good . . . Good . . . Yes, . . . Yes, yes, yes.\u201d His concentration was intense; his movements were quick; there was an air of urgency about the way he worked, of breathlessness, of strong suppressed excitement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Suddenly he heard footsteps on the gravel path outside and he straightened and turned swiftly as the door opened and a tall man came in. It was Scott. It was only Scott, the doctor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, well, well,\u201d the Doctor said. \u201cSo this is where you hide yourself in the evenings.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHullo, Scott,\u201d Klausner said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI happened to be passing,\u201d the Doctor told him, \u201cso I dropped in to see how you were. There was no one in the house, so I came on down here. How\u2019s that throat of yours been behaving?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s all right. It\u2019s fine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNow I\u2019m here I might as well have a look at it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t trouble. I\u2019m quite cured. I\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor began to feel the tension in the room. He looked at the black box on the bench; then he looked at the man. \u201cYou\u2019ve got your hat on,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, have I?\u201d Klausner reached up, removed the hat and put it on the bench.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor came up closer and bent down to look into the box. \u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d he said. \u201cMaking a radio?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, just fooling around.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s got rather complicated-looking innards.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Klausner seemed tense and distracted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat is it?\u201d the Doctor asked. \u201cIt\u2019s rather a frightening-looking thing, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just an idea.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt has to do with sound, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood heavens, man! Don\u2019t you get enough of that sort of thing all day in your work?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI like sound.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo it seems.\u201d The Doctor went to the door, turned, and said, \u201cWell, I won\u2019t disturb you. Glad your throat\u2019s not worrying you any more.\u201d But he kept standing there looking at the box, intrigued by the remarkable complexity of its inside, curious to know what this strange patient of his was up to. \u201cWhat\u2019s it really for?\u201d he asked. \u201cYou\u2019ve made me inquisitive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Klausner looked down at the box, then at the Doctor, and he reached up and began gently to scratch the lobe of his right ear. There was a pause. The Doctor stood by the door, waiting, smiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll right, I\u2019ll tell you, if you\u2019re interested.\u201d There was another pause, and the Doctor could see that Klausner was having trouble about how to begin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was shifting from one foot to the other, tugging at the lobe of his ear, looking at his feet, and then at last, slowly, he said, \u201cWell, it\u2019s like this . . . the theory is very simple really. The human ear . . . you know that it can\u2019t hear everything. There are sounds that are so low-pitched or so high-pitched that it can\u2019t hear them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d the Doctor said. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, speaking very roughly, any note so high that it has more than fifteen thousand vibrations a second\u2014we can\u2019t hear it. Dogs have better ears than us. You know you can buy a whistle whose note is so high-pitched that you can\u2019t hear it at all. But a dog can hear it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, I\u2019ve seen one,\u201d the Doctor said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course you have. And up the scale, higher than the note of that whistle, there is another note\u2014a vibration if you like, but I prefer to think of it as a note. You can\u2019t hear that one either. And above that there is another and another rising right up the scale for ever and ever and ever, an endless succession of notes . . . an infinity of notes . . . there is a note\u2014if only our ears could hear it\u2014so high that it vibrates a million times a second . . . and another a million times as high as that . . . and on and on, higher and higher, as far as numbers go, which is . . . infinity . . . eternity . . . beyond the stars.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Klausner was becoming more animated every moment. He was a small frail man, nervous and twitchy, with always moving hands. His large head inclined towards his left shoulder as though his neck were not quite strong enough to support it rigidly. His face was smooth and pale, almost white, and the pale-grey eyes that blinked and peered from behind a pair of steel spectacles were bewildered, unfocused, remote. He was a frail, nervous, twitchy little man, a moth of a man, dreamy and distracted; suddenly fluttering and animated; and now the Doctor, looking at that strange pale face and those pale-grey eyes, felt that somehow there was about this little person a quality of distance, of immense immeasurable distance, as though the mind were far away from where the body was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor waited for him to go on. Klausner sighed and clasped his hands tightly together. \u201cI believe,\u201d he said, speaking more slowly now, \u201cthat there is a whole world of sound about us all the time that we cannot hear. It is possible that up there in those high-pitched inaudible regions there is a new exciting music being made, with subtle harmonies and fierce grinding discords, a music so powerful that it would drive us mad if only our ears were tuned to hear the sound of it. There may be anything . . . for all we know there may\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d the Doctor said. \u201cBut it\u2019s not very probable.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy not? Why not?\u201d Klausner pointed to a fly sitting on a small roll of copper wire on the workbench. \u201cYou see that fly? What sort of a noise is that fly making now? None\u2014that one can hear. But for all we know the creature may be whistling like mad on a very high note, or barking or croaking or singing a song. It\u2019s got a mouth, hasn\u2019t it? It\u2019s got a throat!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor looked at the fly and he smiled. He was still standing by the door with his hands on the doorknob. \u201cWell,\u201d he said. \u201cSo you\u2019re going to check up on that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSome time ago,\u201d Klausner said, \u201cI made a simple instrument that proved to me the existence of many odd inaudible sounds. Often I have sat and watched the needle of my instrument recording the presence of sound vibrations in the air when I myself could hear nothing. And those<\/em> are the sounds I want to listen to. I want to know where they come from and who or what is making them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd that machine on the table there,\u201d the Doctor said, \u201cis that going to allow you to hear these noises?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt may. Who knows? So far, I\u2019ve had no luck. But I\u2019ve made some changes in it and tonight I\u2019m ready for another trial. This machine,\u201d he said, touching it with his hands, \u201cis designed to pick up sound vibrations that are too high-pitched for reception by the human ear, and to convert them to a scale of audible tones. I tune it in, almost like a radio.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow d\u2019you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt isn\u2019t complicated. Say I wish to listen to the squeak of a bat. That\u2019s a fairly high-pitched sound\u2014about thirty thousand vibrations a second. The average human ear can\u2019t quite hear it. Now, if there were a bat flying around this room and I tuned in to thirty thousand on my machine, I would hear the squeaking of that bat very clearly. I would even hear the correct note\u2014F sharp, or B flat, or whatever it might be\u2014but merely at a much lower pitch<\/em>. Don\u2019t you understand?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor looked at the long, black coffin-box. \u201cAnd you\u2019re going to try it tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, I wish you luck.\u201d He glanced at his watch. \u201cMy goodness!\u201d he said. \u201cI must fly. Good-bye, and thank you for telling me. I must call again sometime and find out what happened.\u201d The Doctor went out and closed the door behind him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a while longer, Klausner fussed about with the wires in the black box; then he straightened up and in a soft excited whisper said, \u201cNow we\u2019ll try again . . . We\u2019ll take it out into the garden this time . . . and then perhaps . . . perhaps . . . the reception will be better. Lift it up now . . . carefully . . . Oh, my God, it\u2019s heavy!\u201d He carried the box to the door, found that he couldn\u2019t open the door without putting it down, carried it back, put it on the bench, opened the door, and then carried it with some difficulty into the garden. He placed the box carefully on a small wooden table that stood on the lawn. He returned to the shed and fetched a pair of earphones. He plugged the wire connexions from the earphones into the machine and put the earphones over his ears. The movements of his hands were quick and precise. He was excited, and breathed loudly and quickly through his mouth. He kept on talking to himself with little words of comfort and encouragement, as though he were afraid\u2014afraid that the machine might not work and afraid also of what might happen if it did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stood there in the garden beside the wooden table, so pale, small, and thin that he looked like an ancient, consumptive, bespectacled child. The sun had gone down. There was no wind, no sound at all. From where he stood, he could see over a low fence into the next garden, and there was a woman walking down the garden with a flower-basket on her arm. He watched her for a while without thinking about her at all. Then he turned to the box on the table and pressed a switch on its front. He put his left hand on the volume control and his right hand on the knob that moved a needle across a large central dial, like the wavelength dial of a radio. The dial was marked with many numbers, in a series of bands, starting at 15,000 and going on up to 1,000,000.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And now he was bending forward over the machine. His head was cocked to one side in a tense, listening attitude. His right hand was beginning to turn the knob. The needle was travelling slowly across the dial, so slowly he could hardly see it move, and in the earphones he could hear a faint, spasmodic crackling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Behind this crackling sound he could hear a distant humming tone which was the noise of the machine itself, but that was all. As he listened, he became conscious of a curious sensation, a feeling that his ears were stretching out away from his head, that each ear was connected to his head by a thin stiff wire, like a tentacle, and that the wires were lengthening, that the ears were going up and up towards a secret and forbidden territory, a dangerous ultrasonic region where ears had never been before and had no right to be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The little needle crept slowly across the dial, and suddenly he heard a shriek, a frightful piercing shriek, and he jumped and dropped his hands, catching hold of the edge of the table. He stared around him as if expecting to see the person who had shrieked. There was no one in sight except the woman in the garden next door, and it was certainly not she. She was bending down, cutting yellow roses and putting them in her basket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Again it came\u2014a throatless, inhuman shriek, sharp and short, very clear and cold. The note itself possessed a minor, metallic quality that he had never heard before. Klausner looked around him, searching instinctively for the source of the noise. The woman next door was the only living thing in sight. He saw her reach down, take a rose stem in the fingers of one hand and snip the stem with a pair of scissors. Again he heard the scream.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It came at the exact moment when the rose stem was cut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At this point, the woman straightened up, put the scissors in the basket with the roses and turned to walk away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMrs Saunders!\u201d Klausner shouted, his voice shrill with excitement. \u201cOh, Mrs Saunders!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And looking round, the woman saw her neighbour standing on his lawn\u2014a fantastic, arm-waving little person with a pair of earphones on his head\u2014calling to her in a voice so high and loud that she became alarmed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCut another one! Please cut another one quickly!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She stood still, staring at him. \u201cWhy, Mr Klausner,\u201d she said. \u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease do as I ask,\u201d he said. \u201cCut just one more rose!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs Saunders had always believed her neighbour to be a rather peculiar person; now it seemed that he had gone completely crazy. She wondered whether she should run into the house and fetch her husband. No, she thought. No, he\u2019s harmless. I\u2019ll just humour him. \u201cCertainly, Mr Klausner, if you like,\u201d she said. She took her scissors from the basket, bent down and snipped another rose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Again Klausner heard that frightful, throatless shriek in the earphones; again it came at the exact moment the rose stem was cut. He took off the earphones and ran to the fence that separated the two gardens. \u201cAll right,\u201d he said. \u201cThat\u2019s enough, No more. Please, no more.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman stood there, a yellow rose in one hand, clippers in the other, looking at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m going to tell you something, Mrs Saunders,\u201d he said, \u201csomething that you won\u2019t believe.\u201d He put his hands on top of the fence and peered at her intently through his thick spectacles. \u201cYou have, this evening, cut a basketful of roses. You have with a sharp pair of scissors cut through the stems of living things, and each rose that you cut screamed in the most terrible way. Did you know that, Mrs Saunders?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said. \u201cI certainly didn\u2019t know that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt happens to be true,\u201d he said. He was breathing rather rapidly, but he was trying to control his excitement. \u201cI heard them shrieking. Each time you cut one, I heard the cry of pain. A very high-pitched sound, approximately one hundred and thirty-two thousand vibrations a second. You couldn\u2019t possibly have heard it yourself. But I<\/em> heard it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid you really, Mr Klausner?\u201d She decided she would make a dash for the house in about five seconds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou might say,\u201d he went on, \u201cthat a rose bush has no nervous system to feel with, no throat to cry with. You\u2019d be right. It hasn\u2019t. Not like ours, anyway. But how do you know, Mrs Saunders<\/em>\u201d\u2014and here he leaned far over the fence and spoke in a fierce whisper\u2014\u201chow do you know<\/em> that a rose bush doesn\u2019t feel as much pain when someone cuts its stem in two as you would feel if someone cut your wrist off with a garden shears? How do you know that?<\/em> It\u2019s alive<\/em>, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, Mr Klausner. Oh, yes\u2014and good night.\u201d Quickly she turned and ran up the garden to her house. Klausner went back to the table. He put on the earphones and stood for a while listening. He could still hear the faint crackling sound and the humming noise of the machine, but nothing more. He bent down and took hold of a small white daisy growing on the lawn. He took it between thumb and forefinger and slowly pulled it upward and sideways until the stem broke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From the moment that he started pulling to the moment when the stem broke, he heard\u2014he distinctly heard in the earphones\u2014a faint high-pitched cry, curiously inanimate. He took another daisy and did it again. Once more he heard the cry, but he wasn\u2019t so sure now that it expressed pain. No, it wasn\u2019t pain; it was surprise. Or was it? It didn\u2019t really express any of the feelings or emotions known to a human being. It was just a cry, a neutral, stony cry\u2014a single emotionless note, expressing nothing. It had been the same with the roses. He had been wrong in calling it a cry of pain. A flower probably didn\u2019t feel pain. It felt something else which we didn\u2019t know about\u2014something called toin or spurl or plinuckment, or anything you like.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stood up and removed the earphones. It was getting dark and he could see pricks of light shining in the windows of the houses all around him. Carefully he picked up the black box from the table, carried it into the shed and put it on the workbench. Then he went out, locked the door behind him and walked up to the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next morning Klausner was up as soon as it was light. He dressed and went straight to the shed. He picked up the machine and carried it outside, clasping it to his chest with both hands, walking unsteadily under its weight. He went past the house, out through the front gate, and across the road to the park. There he paused and looked around him; then he went on until he came to a large tree, a beech tree, and he placed the machine on the ground close to the trunk of the tree. Quickly he went back to the house and got an axe from the coal cellar and carried it across the road into the park. He put the axe on the ground beside the tree.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he looked around him again, peering nervously through his thick glasses in every direction. There was no one about. It was six in the morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He put the earphones on his head and switched on the machine. He listened for a moment to the faint familiar humming sound; then he picked up the axe, took a stance with his legs wide apart and swung the axe as hard as he could at the base of the tree trunk. The blade cut deep into the wood and stuck there, and at the instant of impact he heard a most extraordinary noise in the earphones. It was a new noise, unlike any he had heard before\u2014a harsh, noteless, enormous noise, a growling, low-pitched, screaming sound, not quick and short like the noise of the roses, but drawn out like a sob lasting for fully a minute, loudest at the moment when the axe struck, fading gradually fainter and fainter until it was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Klausner stared in horror at the place where the blade of the axe had sunk into the woodflesh of the tree; then gently he took the axe handle, worked the blade loose and threw the thing to the ground. With his fingers he touched the gash that the axe had made in the wood, touching the edges of the gash, trying to press them together to close the wound, and he kept saying, \u201cTree . . . oh, tree . . . I am sorry . . . I am so sorry . . . but it will heal . . . it will heal fine . . .\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a while he stood there with his hands upon the trunk of the great tree; then suddenly he turned away and hurried off out of the park, across the road, through the front gate and back into his house. He went to the telephone, consulted the book, dialled a number and waited. He held the receiver tightly in his left hand and tapped the table impatiently with his right. He heard the telephone buzzing at the other end, and then the click of a lifted receiver and a man\u2019s voice, a sleepy voice, saying: \u201cHullo. Yes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDr Scott?\u201d he said,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes. Speaking.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDr Scott. You must come at once\u2014quickly, please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho is it speaking?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cKlausner here, and you remember what I told you last night about my experience with sound, and how I hoped I might\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, yes, of course, but what\u2019s the matter? Are you ill?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019m not ill, but\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s half-past six in the morning,\u201d the Doctor said, \u201cand you call me but you are not ill.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease come. Come quickly. I want someone to hear it. It\u2019s driving me mad! I can\u2019t believe it . . .\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor heard the frantic, almost hysterical note in the man\u2019s voice, the same note he was used to hearing in the voices of people who called up and said, \u201cThere\u2019s been an accident. Come quickly.\u201d He said slowly, \u201cYou really want me to get out of bed and come over now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, now. At once, please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll right, then\u2014I\u2019ll come.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Klausner sat down beside the telephone and waited. He tried to remember what the shriek of the tree had sounded like, but he couldn\u2019t. He could remember only that it had been enormous and frightful and that it had made him feel sick with horror. He tried to imagine what sort of noise a human would make if he had to stand anchored to the ground while someone deliberately swung a small sharp thing at his leg so that the blade cut in deep and wedged itself in the cut. Same sort of noise perhaps? No. Quite different. The noise of the tree was worse than any known human noise because of that frightening, toneless, throatless quality. He began to wonder about other living things, and he thought immediately of a field of wheat, a field of wheat standing up straight and yellow and alive, with the mower going through it, cutting the stems, five hundred stems a second, every second. Oh, my God, what would that<\/em> noise be like? Five hundred wheat plants screaming together and every second another five hundred being cut and screaming and\u2014no, he thought, I do not want to go to a wheat field with my machine. I would never eat bread after that. But what about potatoes and cabbages and carrots and onions? And what about apples? Ah, no. Apples are all right. They fall off naturally when they are ripe. Apples are all right if you let them fall off instead of tearing them from the tree branch. But not vegetables. Not a potato for example. A potato would surely shriek; so would a carrot and an onion and a cabbage . . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He heard the click of the front-gate latch and he jumped up and went out and saw the tall doctor coming down the path, little black bag in hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell,\u201d the Doctor said. \u201cWell, what\u2019s all the trouble?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome with me, Doctor. I want you to hear it. I called you because you\u2019re the only one I\u2019ve told. It\u2019s over the road in the park. Will you come now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor looked at him. He seemed calmer now. There was no sign of madness or hysteria; he was merely disturbed and excited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They went across the road into the park and Klausner led the way to the great beech tree at the foot of which stood the long black coffin-box of the machine\u2014and the axe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy did you bring it out here?\u201d the Doctor asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI wanted a tree. There aren\u2019t any big trees in the garden.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd why the axe?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll see in a moment; But now please put on these ear-phones and listen. Listen carefully and tell me afterwards precisely what you hear. I want to make quite sure . . .\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor smiled and took the earphones and put them over his ears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Klausner bent down and flicked the switch on the panel of the machine; then he picked up the axe and took his stance with his legs apart, ready to swing. For a moment he paused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan you hear anything?\u201d he said to the Doctor,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan I what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan you hear<\/em> anything?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust a humming noise.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Klausner stood there with the axe in his hands trying to bring himself to swing, but the thought of the noise that the tree would make made him pause again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat are you waiting for?\u201d the Doctor asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNothing,\u201d Klausner answered, and then he lifted the axe and swung it at the tree, and as he swung, he thought he felt, he could swear he felt a movement of the ground on which he stood. He felt a slight shifting of the earth beneath his feet as though the roots of the tree were moving underneath the soil, but it was too late to check the blow and the axe blade struck the tree and wedged deep into the wood. At that moment, high overhead, there was the cracking sound of wood splintering and the swishing sound of leaves brushing against other leaves and they both looked up and the Doctor cried, \u201cWatch out! Run, man! Quickly, run!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor had ripped off the earphones and was running away fast, but Klausner stood spellbound, staring up at the great branch, sixty feet long at least, that was bending slowly downward, breaking and crackling and splintering at its thickest point, where it joined the main trunk of the tree. The branch came crashing down and Klausner leapt aside just in time. It fell upon the machine and smashed it into pieces.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGreat heavens!\u201d shouted the Doctor as he came running back. \u201cThat was a near one! I thought it had got you!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Klausner was staring at the tree. His large head was leaning to one side and upon his smooth white face there was a tense, horrified expression. Slowly he walked up to the tree and gently he prised the blade loose from the trunk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid you hear it?\u201d he said, turning to the Doctor. His voice was barely audible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor was still out of breath from running and the excitement. \u201cHear what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn the earphones. Did you hear anything when the axe struck?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor began to rub the back of his neck. \u201cWell,\u201d he said, \u201cas a matter of fact . . .\u201d He paused and frowned and bit his lower lip. \u201cNo, I\u2019m not sure. I couldn\u2019t be sure. I don\u2019t suppose I had the earphones on for more than a second after the axe struck.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, yes, but what did you hear?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d the Doctor said. \u201cI don\u2019t know what I heard. Probably the noise of the branch breaking.\u201d He was speaking rapidly, rather irritably.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat did it sound like?\u201d Klausner leaned forward slightly, staring hard at the Doctor \u201cExactly<\/em> what did it sound like?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, hell!\u201d the Doctor said. \u201cI really don\u2019t know. I was more interested in getting out of the way. Let\u2019s leave it,\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDr Scott, what-did-it-sound-like<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor God\u2019s sake, how could I tell, what with half the tree falling on me and having to run for my life?\u201d The Doctor certainly seemed nervous. Klausner had sensed it now. He stood quite still, staring at the Doctor and for fully half a minute he didn\u2019t speak. The Doctor moved his feet, shrugged his shoulders and half turned to go. \u201cWell,\u201d he said, \u201cwe\u2019d better get back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLook,\u201d said the little man, and now his smooth white face became suddenly suffused with colour. \u201cLook,\u201d he said, \u201cyou stitch this up.\u201d He pointed to the last gash that the axe had made in the tree trunk. \u201cYou stitch this up quickly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be silly,\u201d the Doctor said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou do as I say. Stitch it up.\u201d Klausner was gripping the axe handle and he spoke softly, in a curious, almost a threatening tone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be silly,\u201d the Doctor said. \u201cI can\u2019t stitch through wood. Come on. Let\u2019s get back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo you can\u2019t stitch through wood?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, of course not.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHave you got any iodine in your bag?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat if I have?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen paint the cut with iodine. It\u2019ll sting, but that can\u2019t be helped.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNow look,\u201d the Doctor said, and again he turned as if to go. \u201cLet\u2019s not be ridiculous. Let\u2019s get back to the house and then . . .\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPaint-the-cut-with-iodine<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor hesitated. He saw Klausner\u2019s hands tightening on the handle of the axe. He decided that his only alternative was to run away fast, and he certainly wasn\u2019t going to do that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll right,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll paint it with iodine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He got his black bag which was lying on the grass about ten yards away, opened it and took out a bottle of iodine and some cotton wool, He went up to the tree trunk, uncorked the bottle, tipped some of the iodine on to the cotton wool, bent down and began to dab it into the cut. He kept one eye on Klausner who was standing motionless with the axe in his hands, watching him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMake sure you get it right in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d the Doctor said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNow do the other one\u2014the one just above it!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Doctor did as he was told.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere you are,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s done.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He straightened up and surveyed his work in a very serious manner. \u201cThat should do nicely.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Klausner came closer and gravely examined the two wounds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he said, nodding his huge head slowly up and down. \u201cYes, that will do nicely.\u201d He stepped back a pace, \u201cYou\u2019ll come and look at them again tomorrow?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, yes,\u201d the Doctor said. \u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd put some more iodine on?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf necessary, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you, Doctor,\u201d Klausner said, and he nodded his head again and he dropped the axe and all at once he smiled, a wild, excited smile, and quickly the Doctor went over to him and gently he took him by the arm and he said, \u201cCome on, we must go now,\u201d and suddenly they were walking away, the two of them, walking silently, rather hurriedly across the park, over the road, back to the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cThe Sound Machine\u201d is a science fiction short story by Roald Dahl, published on September 17, 1949, in The New Yorker. It tells the story of Klausner, a solitary and obsessive man who builds a device capable of detecting sounds inaudible to the human ear. Convinced that the world is filled with hidden voices, he tests his invention in the garden and makes a disturbing discovery as he observes how the plants react. His fascination turns into mounting unease as he ventures deeper into an invisible sonic realm that could radically transform our understanding of plant sensitivity.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":23377,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[559],"tags":[614,552,772],"class_list":["post-26339","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-stories","tag-roald-dahl-en","tag-science-fiction","tag-united-kingdom","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-33"],"acf":[],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":559,"label":"Short stories"}],"post_tag":[{"value":614,"label":"Roald Dahl"},{"value":552,"label":"Science fiction"},{"value":772,"label":"United Kingdom"}]},"featured_image_src_large":["https:\/\/lecturia.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/Roald-Dahl-La-maquina-del-sonido.webp",1024,1024,false],"author_info":{"display_name":"Juan Pablo Guevara","author_link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/author\/spartakku\/"},"comment_info":"","category_info":[{"term_id":559,"name":"Short stories","slug":"short-stories","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":559,"taxonomy":"category","description":"","parent":0,"count":424,"filter":"raw","cat_ID":559,"category_count":424,"category_description":"","cat_name":"Short stories","category_nicename":"short-stories","category_parent":0}],"tag_info":[{"term_id":614,"name":"Roald Dahl","slug":"roald-dahl-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":614,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":4,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":552,"name":"Science fiction","slug":"science-fiction","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":552,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":123,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":772,"name":"United Kingdom","slug":"united-kingdom","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":772,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":93,"filter":"raw"}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26339","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=26339"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26339\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/23377"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=26339"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=26339"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=26339"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}