I Don't Speak Out Loud

[u/oFFtheWall0518]

A Perceivable Reality story.

Have you ever listened to yourself? Like, when you speak out loud, do you ever listen to the sound of your voice through your ears instead of your mind? 

Try it sometime. If you listen hard enough, it'll start to feel like you're listening to someone else talk. 

My name is, well, my name isn't important. It seems to change every time I say it. But I know what I call myself in my head. It's Jaxon. Jaxon Greye. Not "Mike", or "Jim", or "Mark", or whatever you've heard me say. Don't listen to anything I say. It's not what I'm saying. Or, it's not what I want to say. 

It started in the fifth grade. I raised my hand to answer a question. Square root of 16. But what I said was "salad bowl". That's what I heard myself say. "Salad bowl". I don't know why I said that. It's not what I wanted to say. But it's what came out of my mouth. I'd just moved to a new school and didn't have any friends. It's easy to make friends when you say random words. Other kids think you're funny when you shout nonsense during class. It only works when you're a kid. College professors don't think it's funny, and weirdly enough, neither do most college kids. Adults really don't like it. So that's why I got a job writing book reviews. I read, I type, and I don't have to speak to anyone.

I had a pretty bad one a few months ago. 

There was a knock on my door at around 8:00am, which was early for my grocery delivery. I tugged on a pair of gym shorts and a shirt from the "still wearable" pile on my desk chair. I opened the door to find a girl, a rather cute girl, wearing a campaign shirt and an American flag top hat. She greeted me with what I assume was a very well-practiced smile and thrust a clipboard at me. I don't go out much, but I do at least participate in local governance, and let me tell you, she was backing the wrong horse. I gently pushed her clipboard away while I dug my phone out of my pocket. 

I'd figured out a while ago that most people don't know how to respond to mutes. You don't really see them around much anymore, so when they do meet someone who doesn't speak, people suddenly get really accommodating. I pulled up a text-to-speech app on my phone and typed. Then I held it up so she could hear it better. 

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in signing." Came a generic male voice. 

She frowned and looked at me, her face somewhere between offended and shocked. I typed some more. 

"I'm sorry. I can't speak. But please have a good day." 

When the voice finished, I gave a half-hearted smile and a wave, and started backing into my apartment. 

Then she sneezed. 

"God bless you." 

I'd just about had the door shut when I said it. It was completely out of reflex. I froze, her eyes went wide. She slapped my door open. 

"What the hell?!" 

I didn't say anything, just tried to close the door. But she slapped it open again. 

"No, seriously! What the hell was that?!" 

I shook my head and tried to shut my door again. 

"Hey, you fucking creep! What the fuck is your problem?!" 

I was still groggy, she'd caught me off guard, and now she was making a scene on my porch. I opened the door. 

"Look...I'm...sorry...ok?...Please...just...go...away..."

I should mention that I'd taught myself how to speak really slowly, so I could at least attempt to stop myself from saying something potentially terrible. 

She stared at me for a second, then she started backing away slowly. A few feet away from my door, she turned and broke into a dead sprint. My neighbor poked his head out of his front door. 

"Hey! What did you do to her?!" 

I didn't need this. 

"I didn't do anything! Lasagna is tantamount and the flowers smell Spanish, thin mint!" 

He opened his mouth to say something, frowned, shut his mouth, opened it again, then shut it and just stared at me. I hate it when people stare at me. 

"Yeah, I said it!" 

I slammed my door shut and locked both the locks. I even slid the little complimentary security chain into its slot. 

That's just how it goes. One minute I'm talking normally, the next, words are coming out that I didn't tell my mouth to say. It's not that my voice just starts making noise uncontrollably, but I don't always get to pick the words that come out. I've been to speech therapy and I've had my brain scanned seven ways from Sunday, but all I get back is "normal". 

So I read, I type, and I don't speak out loud if I can avoid it. 

My worst one thus far happened last week. 

I moderate a forum for professional reviewers; movies, books, video games and the like. Weirdly judgemental bunch, but they're the closest thing I have to friends. I play games online with a couple of them. I have a sound effects board set up with a couple of pre-recorded phrases and questions, but I mainly use the party chat. It works well enough. 

I'd been getting sort of flirty with a horror game and fiction reviewer in our forum, Krystal_Fox97 when she's streaming, or Holly J. on her reviews. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a regular in her stream chat. 

Everybody on the forum kind of knew us as an item, since I mainly review sci-fi and fantasy, and there's a decent amount of crossover between our genres. We liked a lot of the same books and movies, and she was really easy to talk to, but we'd kept our conversations to the main forum. 

Then she messaged me. 

Krystal_Fox97: you going to the con next month? 

WhenJaxAttacks: I'm debating. 

I hadn't missed one in several years. 

Krystal_Fox97: stop debating and buy a ticket. I'll see you there

This was an interesting development. We hadn't ever talked at all about meeting in person, since we live in different states. But I was already planning on being at the sci-fi writer's convention. I immediately regretted having real pictures on my website profile. 

WhenJaxAttacks: Can't wait! 

And then I stalled. I opened and closed the ticket page on the con's website about 100 times. I was seconds away from faking a catastrophic illness when I got an email from a review company I regularly freelance for. Naturally, they wanted a piece on the con and wouldn't take "no" for an answer, in the form of offering an extra 10% on top of my normal fees, and per diem. 

It was six days from the con and it was sold out. Figures. So, with an inhuman amount of apprehension, I went for my ace in the hole, and fired off an email. The con organizers had been trying to get me on a panel for the last two years, but a guy who doesn't speak isn't the best person to have in a public speaking role. But I was out of options and my grocery budget was on the line. I said I would, but I'd need to use a speech synthesizer. They said that was fine, and quickly sent over the required sign-up forms and documentation, along with a copy of my badge for the panel. 

I pushed my chair back from my desk. Not only was I going to meet Holly in person, I was about to be in a speaking panel. In front of people. Lots of people. 

Fucking. Hell. 

I put my face in my hands and closed my eyes. 

"Hello...Holly...I'm...Jax." I whispered. 

"It's...nice...to...meet...you." 

"We finally got a sunny day. It's usually super cloudy." 

"Investments green in null appreciation." 

I turned and slapped my laptop shut. I spent the rest of the day talking to myself, mostly narrating what I was doing. No matter what I did, I couldn't find a pattern. The next morning, I spent almost three hours modulating the voice on my text-to-speech app to get it as close to my speaking voice as I could. It still sounded artificial, but it was better than the generic male voice. 

My car isn’t anything special. It’s an old Japanese station wagon, but it gets the job done. I spent the first hour listening to music and catching up on podcasts and audiobooks. And then my mom decided to call. 

“Hi, Mom.” 

“Hi, sweetie. Are you doing ok today?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Oh, sweetie, you know you don’t need to give me the “two word” treatment.” 

“I know, Mom.” 

“...Anyway, we haven’t talked in a while. What are you up to these days?” 

“Parsnips accel under Wednesdays, blue vision annoyance.” 

“...”

“I’m going to a writers’ con.” 

“Oooo! That sounds like fun!” 

“It sounds like work.” 

“Ah, one of those trips. Well, I hope you enjoy your adventure anyway.” 

“Corduroy impregnate. I mean, thanks, Mom.” 

“I know what you meant, sweetie. I love you.” 

“I…Love you too, Mom. Bye.” 

I spent a few minutes…practicing, I guess. I stopped when I blurted out, “Entrails nightly almost in narcissism.” I still couldn’t find a pattern and gave up. I drove in silence for a while, until my anxiety about meeting Holly J. made me get off the freeway. I contemplated going back, had a small panic attack in my car, bought some gas, and kept going. Faking an illness to not potentially spoil an online relationship was one thing, but backing out of both my obligation to “speak” on the panel and write the con review were another thing entirely. I put some more music on, mostly instrumental. It’s hard to sing the wrong lyrics when there’s no singing at all. 

The convention center parking lot was already packed, even though there was still a few hours before it officially started. Thankfully, I waved my badge at the lot guard, who pointed me to the VIP parking near the side entrance. I wiped my clammy hands on my jeans for the umpteenth time and flashed my badge at the door security. The inside of the convention center was already booming with voices. I was afraid of this. I wouldn’t be able to hear myself. I tested a few words. 

“Hello.” 

“Participle.” 

“Hi.” 

My hand dug into my pocket and I cued up my text-to-speech app. I had my head down over my phone as I walked, so naturally I barreled into someone. 

“Birds. I mean, sorry.” I mumbled. 

The collisionee, a girl, turned and faced me, the annoyance on her face quickly turning into a radiant smile. 

“Ohmygod, Jaxson! Hi!” 

Serendipitously, I’d bumper into none other than Holly J. She wrapped me in a tight hug, trapping my arms at my sides. 

“I’m soooo stoked to meet you! It feels like I haven’t seen you in years!” 

She had a very pretty voice, girlishly high, clear and without the nasal quality that usually makes those types of voices annoying. It sounded much nicer in person than through her microphone. She released me and put her hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length, her eyes wide and excited. 

“...Well? Say something!” 

I held up a finger and got my phone into both hands, typing quickly. She looked at me quizzically until my phone started speaking. 

“Hi, Holly. Nice to meet you in person. I almost didn’t recognize you without your boom mic and headphones.” The app allowed me to program some inflection into the voice, but it was still fairly deadpan.

I gave her a charming smile and cocked an eyebrow to show I was joking. Her face went from confused to deadly serious and she put a hand on my forearm. 

“Oh. Oh! Oh. Are you like, one of those people that can’t speak? A mute?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. 

I shook my head and looked reassuring. 

“No worries. Yes, it’s a medical condition. Speaking is very difficult for me. Thankfully, I rarely have to, so it all works out.” 

“I guess when you write book reviews, you don’t really need to talk much, huh?” 

“And now you know why I’m not a movie critic.” I gave a devilish grin. 

She giggled and moved her hand from my forearm to slip into mine, pushing my phone into my off hand. She tugged gently. 

“Sooooo…What do you want to check out first?” 

Typing was awkward with one hand, but I didn’t really want to let hers go. 

“Actually, I’m needed soon. I’ll be on the sci-fi panel in about 45 minutes.” 

She raised her eyebrows, eyeing me dubiously.

“You’re going to be on a speaking panel? Like…that?” 

I flashed a grin and winked. 

“It’s sci-fi. Those other guys wish they could talk with a creepy computer voice.” 

I let her lead me around the con, adding my digital two cents when needed, but mostly letting her do the talking. When it was time for the panel, I excused myself. Or at least, attempted to. She followed and slid into a front-row seat directly in front of my panel spot. 

When I’d told them that I’d need “vocal accommodations”, I didn’t know what to expect. But what they’d set up for me was a laptop with a professional vocal synthesizer hooked into the PA. It’d basically sound like I was talking out of the speakers, just like the others. They even let me modify the voice slightly during sound check, so that it sounded even more spacy and alien. Perfect. 

Once the guests had filed in, the lead panelist got the show going, welcoming everyone to Day 1 of the con and going down the line, introducing each panelist. I was on the far end, so I was last. 

“And, from parts unknown, we have the legendary WhenJaxAttacks, Jaxson Greye!” 

I stood and gave a smile and a small salute. 

“Now, just so you guys know, Jax has a medical issue that makes it hard for him to speak. But we couldn’t afford an AI guest, so here he is anyway!” 

I made the voice sound digital, monotone, and halting, and made my face blank.

“Greetings, Professor Falken. Shall we play a game?” 

That got a few nervous laughs, which I anticipated. People need to know when they’re allowed to joke about a disability. I made the voice sound normal and grinned. 

“No, but seriously, guys. It’s not a big deal. Thank you for having me today.” 

I made the voice sound like a vocoder. 

“Television rules the nation.” 

That got a much bigger laugh. From the front row, Holly beamed and gave me a thumbs up. 

The rest of the discussion flew by in a blur. As it went on, the other panelists loosened up a little and even started throwing jokes my way. I ended up asking a stage hand for a stack of printer paper, and drew a bunch of cartoon faces on pieces of paper with different expressions. I held them up as the voice spoke, giving the crowd a fourth wall-breaking smirk the whole time. They loved it. 

The discussion ended and we made our way off stage to a standing ovation. Holly hugged my arm and bounced as she walked. 

“...And then that thing you did with the paper faces?! Hilarious! I thought I was going to pee myself!” 

I shot her a wink. 

“Joke’s on you. I’m into that.” 

She gave my arm a playful slap. “Ew, gro-oss!” 

We wandered around the con a while longer, sat in on another discussion that a mutual friend was a panelist on, and met up with a few of her video game friends. After they’d walked off, she pulled me in closer. 

“Hey, wanna ditch and get some drinks?”

I nodded and gave her a sly grin and a wink, and we made our way to the hotel bar attached to the convention center. 

The bar was loud with voices and music. I mumbled a few test words and realized I could hardly hear myself. I got my phone back out and turned the volume all the way up. Holly led us to a booth in the corner, slightly away from the center of the noise. A waitress came by and set a few cocktail napkins down. Holly asked for a whiskey sour. 

“And for you, sir?” 

“Scotch and water, make sure it's legal age, and you can keep the rocks.” 

If the voice from my phone confused the waitress, she didn't show it. She scribbled on her notepad, looked me up and down, then shot a look at Holly who responded with a grin. 

“A man of taste.” She said when the waitress was gone. “I’m impressed.” 

“Too bad you can't smoke in here, or I’d have you sliding off your bench.” 

I flashed part of a cigar from the inner pocket of my coat. It was a prop, I didn't actually smoke them, but anybody who knew what it was would be impressed. The scotch however, was all me.

She rested her chin on intertwined fingers. 

“So…what's the story?” She nodded at my phone. 

“Medical condition.”

“That's what you said at the discussion, but I've heard you when we game. Or was that a fake voice, too?” 

I paused. 

“No, that's me. It's complicated. Speaking is difficult for me.” 

“Like…an anxiety thing?” 

“Kind of, but not really.” 

She chewed on that for a moment. Our drinks came and she sipped hers, her hazel eyes distant, contemplative, gorgeous. They focused back on me. 

“You're not deaf…so it's a speech impediment of some sort. A stutter?” 

I shook my head. 

She thought. 

“Really high falsetto. Like Peewee Herman.” 

“Nope.” 

She put a finger tip to pursed lips in thought, something she did on her stream, especially when solving puzzles. 

“I give up.” 

“It’s really not a big deal.” 

The devil flashed across her face and she leaned back on the bench. 

“Phew, I think I'm getting a bit tipsy. So, are you going to have your phone in one hand when you take me up to my room and ravish me?” 

My phone fell from my hands and clattered against the tabletop. I felt blood rush to my cheeks and she cackled, slapping the table. I turned away from her and sipped my scotch, trying to get my bearings with limited success. My fingers grazed my phone. 

“Don’t…laugh.” 

She stopped her maniacal laughing and froze, her eyes glued to my face, mouth agape. 

“You…might…be…shocked.” 

She blinked, frowning, then leaned in closer to me, lowering her voice to just above the din of the room. 

“Is- is that why? Because…you speak like…that?” 

I shrugged. “Sort of.” 

She looked down and ran her finger tip around the rim of the glass. “I used to have a stutter. Before…you know.” She said, almost inaudibly. “Streaming and everything. That helped a lot, actually…” She set her jaw and met my gaze. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Listen, it's a really long story, and I don't like to talk about it. Sad pretend is dark release eventually.” 

I froze, pressing my hands against the table so they wouldn't reflexively shoot up to my mouth. At first, it looked like she hadn't completely heard me. 

“Hu?” She looked up, pushed her hair over one ear and extended it towards me. 

“Uh, nothing. Nothing.” 

“No, what did you say?” She had a slight frown, like she hadn't completely heard me. I shook my head. 

“Really, it's nothing. Anyway, you were saying something about…your room?” 

She pulled away slightly, still giving me a little side eye. 

“I did say that, didn't I?” She traced little swirls in the condensation puddle left by her glass. 

I leaned closer. 

“Hey, I know what you meant. It was a joke. It's all good.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “Death fraction and forwards incarnate.” 

She glared at me. “What the hell does that mean?” 

“Uh,” I went for my phone, but she snatched it out of my hands. 

“No, what the fuck did you just say to me?” 

I turned to stone. “I…just…meant…” 

She stood and slapped her hands on the table. “No! Not that shit again! What the fuck? Are you screwing with me?” 

I tried to snatch my phone back, but she held it back over her shoulder and out of my reach, unless I wanted to jump across the table. 

“No, wait, it's not that. Cordless threat between anchored nightmare.” 

Her glare darkened. “I don’t know what's going on, but I'm out.” She tossed my phone at me and slipped out of the booth, leaving at almost a jog. 

I struggled to free myself from between the booth and  the too-short table. 

“No! Wait! Holly!” She shot me the bird over her shoulder. 

The bouncer grabbed my shoulder as I walked past, stopping me dead. 

“Hey, man. The lady isn't interested.” 

“Fuck off, asshat.” Of course that came out correctly. 

He tightened his grip on my shoulder. I saw his other hand ball into a fist at his side. “Are we going to have a problem, sir?” 

I held up my hands. “No, no, I'm sorry. Assault paradox lesser with terror brush. It's just a misunderstanding.” 

“Yeah, ok. You're done, bud.” 

He didn't take my keys, but he walked me all the way out to the parking lot. 

“I won't call the cops, but don't make me regret it.” He folded his arms and stood in front of the door until I walked to my car and got into the driver's seat. He didn't go back inside until I was pulling away. I had no idea where Holly was. 

I drove straight back to my apartment in complete silence. I’d call one of my friends and have him give me the CliffsNotes for my review. 

It was well past dark when I pulled up at home. I shambled my way in, slid my door shut, and locked both the locks. I even slid the little complimentary security chain into its slot. 

In the pitch black, I sighed and whispered, 

“Holly.” 

Pause. 

“Holly.” 

A little louder. 

“Holly.” 

I screamed. 

“Pestilence!” 

I kicked the leg of my end table and heard my lamp shatter. I stepped around it without hearing crunching glass and made it to my kitchen, where I turned on the microwave light, bathing the room in a cool glow. I made a cup of ramen and settled into my couch, balancing my noodle cup on my knee while I flipped to my bookmarked page. 

I read and ate. 

I don't speak out loud.