As the purple cone descended, the ambient noise subsided. It was a perfect cone of silence.
Once in place, the real work could begin.
It has long been thought that even fish had language, but it had been missed in all the noise that surrounds us, and which is especially hard to eliminate in such an efficient transmitter of sound as water.
But the new cone of silence would change all that, and I would finally take my place among the great scientists of yore. An honor long expected and long overdue, of course.
And so, I listened.
I heard the fish fins pushing against the side of the tank. I heard a distant rumble, likely from the circulation of the water so that my subjects don’t die.
I heard some of the fish chewing.
I’m pretty sure I heard a fish fart.
Which could be a good sign, in fact. There is some indication that herring intentionally swallow air and pass it to create sounds. There isn’t any clear indication, however, that this is part of a language.
Then the cone of silence lifted and the sounds of my real world lab intruded.
What imbecile interrupted me?
Why can’t I work in peace?