Salt n' Pepper Potato Chips

The green glow of the elevator buttons gave color to the humming of the overhead light. More then halfway beaten, the whole scene felt surreal. As a spy on his final mission, this was an unwelcome salute of deja vu. Another lurch of the elevator car would surely bring up what was left of breakfast. Half the stomach growled in depleted frustration, the other half was sliding down the teal curtains hanging in the elevator. Chunks of watery eggs collected dust and dirt as they traced their way to the floor. The shadow of the killer darkened the corners of the elevator. His looming presence emanated the piercing stench of cold sweat and alcohol.

Downstairs in the lobby of the building, Jerome was helping the grey haired old lady from 4E out of the building, across the sidewalk, and into the waiting van. He did this every night, about three quarters of the way through his shift. She never remembered his name and always complained about the weather, but she wore a different pair of animal printed socks every day he saw her. The animals between the folds of the socks were were animated like the animals on the outside of an Animal Cracker© box. Each day a different animal. Jerome had been recording which animals were on her socks in a journal. Whispers of “Lit-tle el-ephants” echoed across the tile as he walked back to his booth. The surveillance screens cycled through their zones as he finished another meticulous entry. He reached under the desk. Since serving in ‘Nam Jerome never held post without a loaded 12 gauge; “Not in Hanoi, not in Hyde Park”, was his credo. He took his role as doorman seriously. You can take the infantryman out of the jungle, but you can never clock out of the job.

Locked and loaded, just like it was every time he reached for it.

Somewhere between the first and second floor, the elevator clanged through the necessary machinations and settled into the final stop. The shadow uttered, “I did it, I killed him, and I’m gonna kill you too.”

The doors slid open.

Lucky for me, Jerome and his 12 gauge were waiting.

Lucky for Jerome the video had picked up the tiny vibrations of a potato chip bag as the murderer muttered his mea a culpa.

Apparently scientists can recreate sound based on the vibrations of a potato chip bag. Who knew?!

Source:

http://www.theverge.com/2014/8/4/5968243/mit-turns-recorded-vibrations-back-into-speech-and-music