Page 48 of Juliet's Echo

“Thank you,” I responded before guiding myself on a tour.

The studio seemed to go on forever.

There were lounges where artists could nap. I saw a sign with an arrow directing people toward a gym and showers. There was even an active café with on-site chefs.

Literally, if an artist had to stay at the studio all night, HUSH was the place to do it.

Making a random left turn, I stumbled upon a massive recording room where every instrument imaginably decorated the space.

Pianos.

Trumpets.

Saxophones.

Violins.

Drums.

This room could direct a whole orchestra.

My eyes eventually found the guitars.

A woman was recording a song while a few engineers listened attentively. Everyone wore studio headphones and seemed completely locked in. The door was open, and I crept toward the entrance to catch a sound.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Not a note.

Not a chord.

Every now and then, one of the engineers would grace the room with an occasional “good job” or “run it back,” but otherwise it was effortlessly quiet.

How though?

My curiosity almost carried me farther into the room when I felt a strong hand land on my shoulder.

“Impressive, right?” a deep voice asked.

I turned around to find Echo Everette standing behind me.

“Uh, yes sir, it is,” I admitted. “But why can’t I hear anything? Not a sound wave or nothing?”

He chuckled.

“I remodeled this place years ago to limit sound. The artists and engineers hear each other and the music through theirheadphones. When an instrument needs to be played, the doors are closed and the sound stays in the room.”

“Oh, okay. Is that to allow multiple sessions without interruption?” I asked.

“Yeah, sort of.”

His eyes briefly drifted toward the room.

“It’s to allow multiple sessions without interrupting Juliet’s hearing. Before Dr. Pristine designed her hearing aids, she would have multiple hearing collapses and mutism episodes. So, I made it where, at most, she gets maybe two sounds at a time while she's here.”

I nodded slowly.