We listen to the hum and buzz of it. The whorl of the hissing black film. The click and clack. We hear a voice we never heard before taping itself. Hello, it says. Hello, we say.
It tells us the story of a general who murdered his enemy’s infant child. It tells us that Sunday is the best day to take a walk through Central Park. It tells us to change at exactly this time. To bathe at exactly this time. It stops itself and makes a robot voice. Its joking, of course, in a self- deprecating manner.
It is a tape recorder after all.