Back in his dorm, he typed a new search into his laptop: subject: "Night-blooming jasmine antidote synthesis" . He hit enter. The results loaded in perfect, soundless silence.

The woman handed him a single sheet of paper. On it was a hand-drawn map to the Madagascar valley, a list of compounds, and a note at the bottom: "You will never hear a bird sing again. But your mother will see a rose. Was it worth it?"

Elias walked out of The Perennial Archive into the silent city. Cars moved like ghosts. People’s mouths opened and closed in a pantomime he would never again decode. He clutched the paper to his chest.