Haldenwyck was a settlement constructed from millstone grit and abandoned assurances. Its main street was a row of stores and "To Let" notices fluttering in the moist Pennine breeze. Six weeks following the Social Harmony Initiative's rollout the wind continued to blow yet almost nothing else shifted.
Devon and Ben arrived beneath a charcoal sky the Discordanter concealed as a secret cargo, in their rental van. They were there to observe the results of funded stillness.
What caught their attention initially was the quiet. Not the lack of any noise. Rather the lack of uproar. No shouting. No engines roaring in irritation. No tunes spilling out of doors. The noises that did exist—the murmur of breeze the remote spray of a sprinkler, on a small area of public lawn—seemed solitary frozen in time.
The individuals were the aspect. They operated with the efficient calm exactness Devon had observed at Lochview Lodge yet here it was applied in a public context. A man brushed the sidewalk outside a shut bakery his motions deliberate, reflective, completely indifferent, to the outcome. A woman stood at a bus stop that hadn't been served in two years her expression an emblem of patient tranquility.
"It's… spotless " Ben whispered, his tone low as if, inside a library.. It truly was. No trash. No markings. Yet it was the cleanliness of a museum display not that of a town.
The windows of the newspaper office were unlit. A tidy typed announcement was affixed to the door: "The Haldenwyck Clarion is ending its publication. In this time of restored community harmony reporting news is seen as a disturbance. We extend our wishes for calm, to all our readers."
They came upon the pub The Shepherd's Rest, still welcoming visitors. Within it was well-lit and calm. Guests occupied tables each holding a single pint. Silence prevailed, no chatter stirring. A football game flickered silently on a screen ignored by everyone. The landlord, a man whose expression once probably showed concern now displayed a calm blank smile methodically cleaning the same glass in steady circles.
Devon walked up to the bar. "It's pretty silent, in here."
The innkeeper's grin remained steady. "Calm. It's calm here. Would you like a drink? We offer two ales. Both are good."
"Any updates?" Ben inquired as he grabbed a stool.
"News?" The man's forehead creased a bit as though attempting to remember an idea. "No. No news. The Council issues bulletins. About the Subscription. Reminder emails. Quite useful." He resumed polishing.
A woman sitting at a table overhearing their talk glanced over. Her gaze was bright yet hollow. "You're not part of the Initiative right?"
"I'm just stopping by " Devon remarked.
"You ought to think about it " she said in a even tone. "The anxiety… it simply vanishes. I used to be anxious about my son. About what lies for him. Now I see… he has no future.. Neither do I. And it's…" she looked for the term spotting it in a Somnum brochure, near her napkin "…freeing."
Later at a city park they observed children at play.. Something resembling play. They constructed a sandcastle in a hollow. There was no laughter or dispute. One kid would drop a handful of sand. Then a long pause. Another would add another handful. It was a joint ceremony lacking any happiness. A young mother sat on a bench nearby her face marked by detached tranquility.
"Crime stands at zero " Ben announced, glancing at a data terminal positioned outside the closed library. "Anti-social conduct: zero. Council tax collection rate: one hundred percent. Voter turnout in the recent by-election: four percent." He raised his eyes, his expression pale. "Productivity figures are ', under review.' They've ceased tracking."
It represented the societal conclusion. No disputes, no desires, no transformation. A condition of agreeable stillness. Moss had covered all surfaces dulling every facet of human feeling and drive. It wasn't a dystopia filled with cries. It was a utopia marked by sighs.
As twilight faded into the streets a faint nearly unnoticeable murmur appeared to envelop the town. It wasn't airborne; it resonated within the framework of the location a tremor sensed through the teeth. The weekly Calm-Top-Up, transmitted via the Aeterna satellite. Devon noticed individuals on the street halt glance, toward nothing specific and breathe out slowly as though an unseen tension they had been holding had been softly released.
Inside the van, stationed on a ridge with a view of Haldenwyck's quiet lights they remained in heavy silence. The Discordanter rested between them a mass of possible disturbance.
"It functions " Devon remarked, the tone sharp. "It definitely functions. They have eradicated the dilemma. This is their version of triumph. A community of individuals who have been softly irreversibly freed from the weight of humanity."
Ben gazed down at the town beneath. "This is the outcome. This calmness. This 'charm.'. The EU has just purchased ten thousand copies. Before long it will be a hundred thousand. A million. A whole continent of Haldenwycks."
He extended his hand hovering above the Discordanter. "Veronica believed this might bounce the signal back. Generate a discord. An incorrect tone."
"We have no idea what effect that would have " Devon remarked. "It might be harmless. It might… break them apart."
"Is breaking apart more terrible, than this?" Ben inquired, his tone a murmur. He avoided Devon's gaze. Instead he stared at the town at the serene resting place of human turmoil. "What are we keeping intact here Devon? This isn't existence. It's embalming."
He hadn't turned on the device. At not yet. They had no authority. They were not deities to impose sensations, on those who had decided or been persuaded to experience nothing.
But as they drove away from Haldenwyck, leaving its profound, subsidized silence behind, the weight of the Discordanter felt different. It was no longer just evidence. It was a choice. A terrible, urgent choice. To let the quiet spread, or to risk making a noise so awful it might wake the sleepers from their blissful, dreaming death.