He said with a low voice, “Before I turn the light on, listen carefully” She listened, a smooth rhythm with relaxing melody; sounds of a sad chorus.
“It is pleasant to ears; I guess you have trained some exotic birds singing.”
“Your guess of birds is correct, but what kind?”
With a smile on her face, she said, “I say you have trained some bluebirds to sing with this tune.”
“Not even close.”
He turned the light on. She stepped into the room. A room as large as the previous one with birdcages fixed all around to the walls. She walked looked at the cages with opened mouth, stood in the middle of the room, “crows? Is it possible?”
“This time my brutal hypothesis have not failed, proved in practice.”
“It is beautiful; I don’t feel any horror in that.”
“For us yes. In contrast, might be for the birds. Look closer”
She stepped to get closer to one of the cages; the singing crow’s toes were glued down around a bamboo, the feathers of the tail were also glued down to another bamboo at its back so that the bird was fixed in the cage. A glass tube containing a yellow liquid had penetrated into its stomach. Staring at the bird, she said, “OK, I am seeing a hypothesis in practice. Yet how could you make a crow sing?” He enjoyed her curiosity, went close to the cage, and pointed to a bulge in the neck of the bird, “All is here, but before I quench your curiosity, I have to present you a brief narration.”
“Since you are accompanied by a well-designed soundtrack, I have no objection.”
“The carnage scenery of non-obedient bees relieved me of facing my failure for a few days. The relaxation lasted until some crows chose the remote location suitable to settle down. In contrast to my habit, their day began early in the morning, and with loud noises. Eventually, They have paid the price for the early wake-up call,” He stepped to the middle of the room. She turned her body to him, his voice became articulated, the narration continued in lecture mode. She seemed like enjoying the performance.
He continued, “Well another hypothesis was going to be created. The power of their sounds amazed me, I mean in terms of the decibels. Testing with an application in my cell phone; some crow could produce a ratio of 100 in decibel level, same as a military helicopter. Note that the permissible noise level for an industrial area is 75 for a commercial 55. Annoyed of the error in the God’s creation, I was going to fix it. Having visualized a crow as a 100-Watt speaker, I remembered an advertisement on TV. ‘This tiny gadget turns anything into music.’ I bought the gadget forty dollars plus tax; too expensive and too big, did not work on a crow. I came up with a brilliant idea, when I hit a stone to a crow’s head, the whimpering crow did not sound bad. The second room door was opened. Waiting for evolution to do the right thing takes millions of years, for God to rectify his design forever. I bought 150 cages; crows are cheap you can find them everywhere and the stupid people in the Captive Animal Protection Society don’t have crows in their listing.”
“Neither the bees.”
“Exactly, I am feeling to like you. Two unrelated evolutionary pitches developed the two-sided vocal cord, syrinx, of the songbirds resulting in a pleasant performance. Believe it or not, crows are among the birds that can mimic the human voice, so a small fixation was required to enhance their syrinxes: a Gillette razor. I bought plenty, 30 cents cost me each. I divided each to small parts with the blade at on side. All was needed then was perseverance. I installed the blade into the bird’s throat pierced half into syrinx half out of it. I tried with multiple factors among them were the angle of installment, piercing depth; and then a source of continuous pain. Do not forget it should be a whimpering crow after all. Thanks to the latter factor, the blind crows could sing better. Two hot needles in the eyes and addition of a low voltage battery for constant burning pain did the job quite enough. Voila, singing birds at your service.”
“I am amazed; and all legal. Sorry, but still I am not frightened.”
“A tough one, but I assure you the third room will terrify you.”
“Cannot wait.”
The botanist and the woman went out for the third room, as they came out of the room of crows, he closed the door and turned the light switch of the room off. They walked to the third door; he turned on the light switch of the third room on and then opened the door. She stepped into the room and then he did. He stood by her facing her to observe the reactions. She looked around, “But nothing is here otherwise than emptiness.”
“Are you sure?”
She turned around, this time carefully paid attention to the floor, ceiling, and white walls, in the end, unable to figure out the significance of the room, asked, “What is it?”
“My third project, this time a real horror,” He paused intentionally for a moment to enjoy of her questionable stare, then said, “You,” A long silence in the room, well conformed to the emptiness. He waited for her response.
“You have decided to imprison me here.”
“You are glaring; your sparkling eyes became glassy now,” he continued, “I am kidding, we can go upstairs. Well, that’s what you have asked for; horror.”
“Yes, so if you please, leave me alone in the room. Close the door, and turn the light off. I am seeing something.”
The man went out the room astonished of her unpredictable response. As he was shutting the door saw she took a piece of paper out from between her breasts. He closed the door and turned down the on and off light switch then stared at the closed door quietly.
A knock at the door, minutes later, which seemed much longer for the man. He opened the door; both departed the cellar in silence. As they passed the narrow gap between the hidden side and bright side of the hall, he dared to ask, “You look sad, what did you see in the empty room?”
“An empty room; a twelve-year sorrow of an empty life.”
“There is sorrow in every horror.”
“I am living in a chaotic world of secrets.”
“There is an order in all secrets. The quote comes from a story that I liked to read as a child.”
They left the cellar; he held his question in mind. They passed the gap where the reign of dark subconscious ended. “You raised high my curiosity. If you tell me what you have seen in the emptiness I would tell you about the ghost in the third room,” He was saying while they were walking back to the cashier place. She noticed someone was dumping some goods at the end of the aisle but did not turn back to see the person. “You first,” She suggested.
“You are putting me in narrative mode again. Nobody knows how the mind works, the third room is always a possibility, which the human civilization has been unable to banish it out