#tplocr

It sits on the table in front of me, gleaming under the dim library lamps, its inner workings sprawled open like an unfortunate autopsy. The Echo Recorder—my Echo Recorder—is supposed to capture and replay sound, it’s a device that, in theory, could preserve voices and conversations as easily as a pianist records a melody in a music box. Instead, for the third time this week, it lets out a wretched, ear-piercing shriek— pain reaches my ears and I scramble to switch the mechanism to neutral. And then—

“Good Heavens, is it supposed to make that noise?” I twist around sharply, startled. A man stands behind me, flinching slightly, though his expression is caught between alarm and curiosity.

My first impression is blue—from the deep and vivid colour of his well-tailored frock coat, to the piercing light blue of his round eyes. It’s an arresting colour - the kind of blue that stands out even in the dim lighting of the library. My second thought is that he’s young, perhaps my age or a little older. I take him in with a swift glance. No facial hair, no signs of arrogance yet, but that coat is expensive, and the way he holds himself—upright, practiced, careful—tells me he’s someone important. He probably waltzed in here expecting deference, expecting me to fetch them books and then scuttle out of the way.

“That is hardly a helpful remark.” I fold my arms and raise an eyebrow at him.

He gives me a vaguely sheepish look in return. “I don’t mean to intrude. But I must confess, I really wasn’t expecting…” He gestures vaguely to the strange brass and wood device on the table between us, and then raises his hands to his ears. “…that. When I stepped in here today.” I sigh, running a hand over my forehead, “Neither was I, if I’m honest.” His lips twitch as if he wants to smile, but he suppresses it. There’s something… oddly self-conscious about him, like he’s aware of how he takes up space. Not in the usual way men do— with swagger, overconfidence—but instead he is careful. Measured - as if he’d spent his life believing he was nothing but an obstacle.