(no subject)
And now they're testing the tornado sirens. (For the record: they work.)
I live about half a block from one of the sirens--which means that when they go off, the only way I could be at home and miss them would be to either be utterly deaf, comatose, or already dead. These things don't so much cut through other sounds as suffuse them. they replace silence--all of a sudden the canvas upon which other sound is painted isn't emptiness but is this half-terrified, half-undead wail. Silence doesn't exist with sirens. You know how, when you're listening to music, you can still kinda hear the silence in the background? No more o' that.
But wat really gets me is that our siren isn't the very first to come on. Usually you'll have a window or three or four seconds while it powers up, or whatever sirens do. And the sound just before it comes on, whether it's from the other sirens out there already wailing or from whatever it has to do to warm up is... well, it's hard to desribe. It's like a pack of metal wolves calling to each other in the distance. An incredibly organic sound, not terribly deep but with depth. Exactly like animals howling, except... not. Still clearly the product of electricity and metal. Apocalypse wolves.
Anyone who thinks the midwest isn't conducive to sci-fi should come during tornado season, I tells ya.
I live about half a block from one of the sirens--which means that when they go off, the only way I could be at home and miss them would be to either be utterly deaf, comatose, or already dead. These things don't so much cut through other sounds as suffuse them. they replace silence--all of a sudden the canvas upon which other sound is painted isn't emptiness but is this half-terrified, half-undead wail. Silence doesn't exist with sirens. You know how, when you're listening to music, you can still kinda hear the silence in the background? No more o' that.
But wat really gets me is that our siren isn't the very first to come on. Usually you'll have a window or three or four seconds while it powers up, or whatever sirens do. And the sound just before it comes on, whether it's from the other sirens out there already wailing or from whatever it has to do to warm up is... well, it's hard to desribe. It's like a pack of metal wolves calling to each other in the distance. An incredibly organic sound, not terribly deep but with depth. Exactly like animals howling, except... not. Still clearly the product of electricity and metal. Apocalypse wolves.
Anyone who thinks the midwest isn't conducive to sci-fi should come during tornado season, I tells ya.