Noise Machine

by Ana Marie Cox

Last summer, my brain broke so hard that I heard the voice of God. But weeks before God spoke to me, I heard a buzz.

I first heard it late at night, low-frequency, almost a purr. I thought it might be the train that runs a few blocks from my house. But no. It didn’t waver or fade. I turned off the ceiling fan, but that only stilled the air. So, it’s the HVAC, running high to keep the Texas heat at bay. Can’t turn that off. I wasn’t worried. I started to notice the whispery static during the day now, too; it faded when I turned my attention to something else.

But at night I was wakeful, agitated. I didn’t know it then, but it would be September before I slept through the night again. I ordered ear buds advertised specifically to stay in when you tossed and turned, but out they fell at the slightest jostle. The noise was getting louder, too. I began to suspect that it was in my head; it was coming from inside my ears, not outside them.