Episode 2. The Silence Coach Sends an SOS

Sometimes the first sound of silence is a phone call.

Caffrey had chosen one blade of grass at the edge of the walking path and was chewing it with great seriousness. Only a few minutes earlier, she had run toward Varen with the leash in his mouth as if life depended on it. But now that they were outside, she seemed to believe there was nothing in the world worth hurrying for.

Varen stood beside her, holding the leash loosely. Then his phone vibrated in his pocket again. Varen took out the phone and looked at the name on the screen.

Hushen Moss.

Hushen had already called once, just as Varen was leaving the retirement ceremony. Varen had looked at the screen, muttered “later,” and declined the call.

Apparently, later had arrived sooner than expected. He answered. For a while, there was no sound. Caffrey stopped chewing and looked up at him. Only after a thin breath came through the phone did Hushen’s voice follow.

“Uncle…” A pause followed. “Can you hear me?”

Varen did not answer right away. Hushen had never been someone who spoke quickly, but today the next sentence seemed to have gotten stuck behind the first word. Caffrey tilted his head.

“Do you… have time right now?”

“So the Silence Coach speaks first,” Varen said. A silence followed. It was unclear whether Hushen had understood the joke. He did not laugh.

Varen said simply, “Tell me.” Another short breath came through the line. Hushen spoke a few words, paused, then continued.

“I’m not sure… if this is right.”

“What? The silence?” Caffrey was still looking up at him.

“No. My job.”

“I don’t think… people will come.”

Varen did not ask anything more. He tightened his grip on the leash.

“Stay there.”

He ended the call without waiting for an answer. Caffrey looked back and forth between Varen’s hand and his face. “Caffrey. Home.” Caffrey turned at once. Her first few steps were quick; then the leash snapped tight. By the time Varen began to run, Caffrey was already pulling him down the path.

When they reached home and Varen unclipped the leash, Caffrey did not go to her water bowl. Instead, he sat down by the front door, ears raised, watching Varen put his shoes back on.

“Fieldwork on the very first day,” Varen said. Caffrey’s tail tapped the floor once. Varen closed the door and stepped back into the alley.

Hushen had grown up next door. As a boy, he was almost always wearing large headphones, usually with no music playing. When the neighborhood children ran through the alley shouting, Hushen would sit against the wall, pressing both sides of the headphones with his palms.

He answered in short sentences, his voice nearly level. He rarely used more words than he needed, and his posture was so straight that it sometimes looked stiff.

Most people, after Hushen finished one sentence, assumed the conversation was over and walked away. Varen always asked one more question.

Once, when Hushen was sitting by the wall with his headphones on, Varen crouched down beside him.

“What are you listening to?”

“Nothing.”

“Are they broken?”

Hushen shook his head.

“It gets quieter.”

Varen liked the way Hushen talked. At first, the flatness of his voice had felt unfamiliar. After a few conversations, it simply sounded like Hushen. His replies reminded Varen of the machines in his lab: precise, stripped of decoration, giving only the signal that was needed. The resemblance ended there. Machines returned what they were given. Hushen’s answers were often unexpected enough to make Varen ask another question.

The neighbors sometimes clicked their tongues before Hushen had even reached the end of the alley. “Will that boy ever be able to make a life for himself?” They spoke as if the headphones made him deaf. Hushen kept walking, his palms pressing harder against the headphones. The next time Varen saw him, he picked up their conversation where they had left off.

Varen hurried toward the address Hushen had sent. When Varen turned off the main road, the traffic noise thinned. Footsteps and closing doors replaced it. Between the buildings, a small sign caught the slanting sunlight.

SILENCE COACH

Silence Is Golden

Varen read it twice, then opened the door.

As he stepped inside, the outside sounds moved farther away. They had not disappeared completely, but whatever had followed him through the door seemed to have lost its sharp edges.

The office was simple: one desk, two chairs, a clock centered on the wall, and a clipboard on the desk. There was almost nothing unnecessary. Hushen removed his headphones and rose at his usual measured pace. He placed them squarely on the desk.

“Welcome, Uncle Varen.”

“It’s been a while.”

Even after the greeting, Hushen remained standing, one hand resting near the back of the second chair. Varen pulled it out and sat down. Only then did Hushen sit. Varen’s gaze settled on a door painted the same color as the wall, its frame so narrow it almost disappeared.

“What’s that?”

“The Silence Room.”

Hushen stood and went to the door. When he pushed the handle down, the thick door opened slowly. Varen stepped inside. Hushen closed the door from outside, and the sounds from the alley and the office moved away all at once. Thick acoustic panels covered the walls and ceiling. A single chair stood inside. The rest of the room was bare.

Varen pressed one hand lightly against the wall. For a moment, he remembered Hushen as a boy, sitting by the wall with silent headphones pressed over his ears. Varen looked around the room once more, then opened the door and stepped back out.

“Not bad.”

Hushen’s shoulders lowered very slightly. He returned to the desk and picked up the clipboard. The first page, clipped neatly in place, read: Silence Session Guide.

“These days, people hardly have any quiet time,” Hushen said. He glanced once at the door to the Silence Room. “So… they need it. Time with no sound at all.” Varen did not answer. Hushen turned the first page of the clipboard. The next sheet listed the order of the session, the timing, and the rules, all lined up neatly. He began reading the first sentence.

“The session will proceed as follows.” He stopped before the next line. Hushen’s thumb slowly rubbed the edge of the clipboard.

“But…”

Varen waited.

“I don’t know if people will come.”

The door to the Silence Room remained closed. Varen looked from it to the guide in Hushen’s hands. He stood.

“I’ll go first.”

Hushen froze. Then he took the clipboard in both hands. His thumb stopped rubbing the edge.

“All right.”

Hushen flipped back to the first page. As Varen opened the door, Hushen spoke behind him in a low, steady voice.

“The session will begin now.”

—

That’s all for today.

Thank you for reading.

Believers, don’t trust me too much.

Just try a moment of silence.

— The Cult Leader —