Lina didn’t return to the City for several days.
This time, the moment she stepped in, she realized something had changed.
There was no silence.
At first it was a barely audible sound.
Distant laughter.
Footsteps.
The toll of a bell.
Then music joined in.
A violin was playing somewhere.
A piano on another street.
Further off, someone was singing.
Each sound was beautiful on its own.
But together they let nothing be heard clearly.
Lina walked down the street.
Voices poured out of one house.
People were arguing.
In another, someone was giving a lecture.
Somewhere else, a woman was telling a story.
In the square, dozens of people spoke at once.
No one was listening.
Everyone was talking.
She turned into a narrow side street.
Finally.
Silence.
Only a few steps.
And then…
A melody rose from somewhere.
It wasn’t loud.
But it filled the space completely.
Lina frowned.
It seemed as though the City itself was afraid of silence.
A huge theater stood at the end of the street.
An inscription glowed above the entrance.
NEVER GO QUIET.
The doors stood wide open.
Hundreds of people sat inside.
Each was watching their own stage.
The strangest part was that there were exactly as many stages as there were spectators.
And on every one of them, something was constantly happening.
Performances.
Lectures.
News.
Discussions.
Interviews.
Comedies.
Lessons.
Not a single stage stayed empty for even a moment.
A man stood in the middle of the hall.
Elegant.
In a dark suit.
He held a conductor’s baton.
He would wave it.
And one sound would fall silent.
But another would begin immediately.
He saw Lina.
Smiled.
– Hello.
– Who are you?
– I just keep the rhythm going.
– What rhythm?
– So people never have to be left alone.
He waved his hand.
A comfortable chair appeared beside her.
– Sit down.
Lina sat.
A stage lit up in front of her.
On it, a woman was talking about a happy life.
The moment she finished…
Another lecture began.
About success.
Then a third.
About relationships.
A fourth.
About spirituality.
A fifth.
About productivity.
There wasn’t a single second of pause.
– Don’t people get tired?
Lina asked.
– Of what?
– Of so much information.
The man laughed.
– People don’t get tired of information.
They get tired of themselves.
That’s why they keep looking for another voice.
He waved the baton.
The stages disappeared.
Hundreds of doors appeared in their place.
Behind every one of them, someone was talking.
– Pick one.
– What?
– Anything.
It doesn’t matter what.
Just don’t let it go quiet.
Lina walked up to one door.
A discussion could be heard behind it.
At another.
Music.
Somewhere else.
Children’s laughter.
Further on.
The news.
Further still.
Prayer.
Meditation instructions.
A fairy tale.
Advice.
Teachings.
Everywhere, someone was talking.
– Why?
She asked.
– Because silence is dangerous.
A calm voice sounded right beside her.
– Why is it dangerous?
– Because in it, a person is left without interpreters for the first time.
Lina looked at the man.
– Interpreters?
– Yes.
He smiled faintly.
– Everyone wants to tell you who you are.
Parents.
Teachers.
Psychologists.
Priests.
Politicians.
Writers.
Instructors.
Influencers.
Neighbors.
Friends.
Even enemies.
Everyone has an opinion.
Only one voice remains unheard.
– Which one?
– Yours.
The man walked over to a large bell.
Touched it lightly.
A sound echoed through the whole theater.
Lina instinctively covered her ears.
– You see?
He said.
– You’re afraid of noise.
But you’re even more afraid of silence.
– I’m not afraid of silence.
– Are you sure?
He waved the baton.
Suddenly…
Everything went silent.
The stages.
The people.
The footsteps.
The wind.
Even her own breathing.
There was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
At first it felt good.
Then…
Thoughts started rising.
Unread books.
An unwritten book.
Unfinished conversations.
Childhood.
Her father’s face.
Her mother’s voice.
Mistakes.
Shame.
Anger.
Fear.
They rose one after another.
Louder and louder.
Stronger and stronger.
Lina felt the urge to run.
– Make it stop.
She whispered.
The man watched calmly.
– You see?
It isn’t the silence screaming.
It’s you.
She clutched her head.
She wanted even the faintest sound.
A clock.
The wind.
Footsteps.
But there was nothing.
Only herself.
And thoughts she hadn’t heard in years.
A moment later the sounds returned.
Lina took a deep breath.
She never thought she’d be glad for noise.
The man smiled.
– Now do you understand why people constantly look for sound?
She said nothing.
– Noise isn’t always meant for the ears.
Most often it’s meant…
So you won’t hear yourself.
Lina stood up.
– What are you?
She asked.
The man bowed slightly.
– I’m called many things.
Some say I’m progress.
Others – entertainment.
Others still – information.
He paused for a moment.
– But really…
I just protect people…
From themselves.
As Lina left the theater, she looked back.
The stages were still running.
The people were still watching.
Each at their own screen.
Not a single one was looking at themselves.
She woke before dawn.
The room was completely silent.
She instinctively reached for her phone.
Stopped.
Slowly pulled her hand back.
Sat up on the bed.
For the first time in many years, she didn’t turn anything on.
For five minutes it felt uncomfortable.
After ten minutes, she felt the urge to get up.
After fifteen – to put on music.
After twenty, she heard birds outside the window.
A few moments later – her own breathing.
And only then, very quietly, as if someone were speaking from very far away, she heard a single sentence.
Not a voice.
Not a thought.
Only a clear knowing.
You can only run from yourself for as long as the world speaks louder than you do.
She opened the black notebook and wrote:
Noise isn’t sound.
A moment later she added a second line.
Noise is everything that keeps a person from meeting themselves.