Log // Alison, Forge // In the parlor...

[x-dazzler.livejournal.com]

Having not waited for Terry's reply email, Alison wanders off in search of whatever sound is irritating the young redhead. Having found it, she calls in Forge to the rescue.

Forge wandered downstairs, wondering exactly what it was Ms. Blaire's email had been about. It wasn't tech-related, because she wasn't usually vague about that stuff. Wasn't class-related, because he wasn't even in her classes this semester. He was pretty sure he hadn't done anything recently to earn a chewing out. Hence, his curiosity was piqued.

Peering around a corner, the old-fashioned parlor seemed silent. Not often used as a lounge room, since the sunroom had better lighting and the parlor didn't have a television, the place seemed to be more of a collection of the oldest furniture and knickknacks in the mansion.

Including, Forge noticed, a photo of the Professor surrounded by a number of young people smiling at the camera. Obviously Mr. Summers, Dr. Grey, Ms. Monroe... the taller one with the dark hair... Dr. McCoy?

"Wow, ancient history," he mumbled, replacing the photo.

"There you are," followed his own words nearly immediately, Alison's hand suddenly appearing from over the back of one of the larger, overstuffed chairs. "C'mere, would you?" she asked, a bit distractedly, head tilting to one side and then the next as her fingers twitched in a 'come here' gesture. "Damn this is freaky..." she added, mostly to herself as she obviously focused on, well, something.

Practically leaping out of his skin, Forge stifled a yelp as he shuffled around the old couch, mindful of his mechanical foot catching on the expensive rug. New modifications to his leg were taking a bit of time to adjust to. Bulkier, but more natural, efficient use of force. A good compromise between form and function, he'd decided.

"Right, freaky, sure." Forge peered around at where Alison knelt on the hardwood floor. "Dare I ask what's freaky?"

"Terry emailed me earlier, complaining about a sound that was driving her nuts. I'd noticed the kids complaining about it last week but didn't really pay it any mind," she paused, lifting one bare arm, waving it in the air slowly with that same, semi-puzzled frown. "Anyway. She said it wasn't as bad when she was around me... And I eat sound, and just because I don't hear things like she and Kyle can doesn't mean I can't..." she stopped once more, finally giving Forge a sidelong look. "Feel it?"

Slowly, Forge nodded in comprehension. "I don't hear anything, but Terry and Kyle are like, super-sensitive. And your body absorbs ambient sound in a range of frequencies, so..."

He stared past Alison blankly for a moment, lips moving slightly as if narrating to himself silently. Cocking his head, he held a hand out to Alison. "Bobby pins? Two of them please?"

"Bobby pins?" Alison blinked, then wrinkled her nose. "Ew, I don't use those!" She shifted a bit on the chair, then withdrew a keychain from her the back pocket of her jeans instead, two single keys dangling from it. "If you're looking for metal, will that do?" she asked, curious.

Forge nodded, taking the keys off the ring and walking across the room before his eyes fell on the framed photograph. Connection.

Sliding the back off the picture frame, he gingerly placed the photo on the shelf, holding the small pane of glass in his fingers before taking a rubber band out of his pocket and using it to attach both keys to the edge. Holding the odd assembly in his hand, he tilted it into the air. "Give me a quick middle C, please."

Shifting on the chair to a better position to breathe properly, Alison didn't ask any questions. Instead she took a few breaths, then sang out the note clearly in a traditional voice training exercise, the 'la' ringing out clearly. There was no such thing as a quick anything when it came to voice, something Terry would likely have corrected Forge on automatically by now, had she been present.

Holding the pane of glass between two metal fingers, Forge felt the vibrations amplified by the makeshift amplifier. "Perfect. Now, this odd sound - I can't hear it, and it's not emanating beyond this room according to Kyle. So we've got estimates of frequency and volume." Tilting the pane, he peered around the room while holding the glass at arm's length as Alison held the note. "All we need is to figure out where there's dissonance and..."

He stopped in his turning, sighting down his arm at the seven-foot-tall grandfather clock framed between the two keys. "Bingo."

As Forge moved closer, he could feel the glass buzzing in his fingers. Placing his other hand flat on the side of the clock, he closed his eyes. Pendulum powered by weights, momentum winding a windlass that spun gears with a preset ratio and there it was, how could he not have noticed?

"There's corrosion on one of the gear spindles," he announced. "Whenever it has to release so that the hands can pass each other, it's catching just slightly and vibrating. The glass and the frame amplify that, like a guitar body. It's just into the ultrasonics, which is why the rest of us can't hear it." Opening the door to the clock, Forge reached his hand in and physically stopped the pendulum from swinging. "Better?"

Alison grinned a bit, listening yet not, once more. "Well, it didn't annoy me but yeah, the soundscape's changed a bit now." She chuckled, wrinkling her nose a bit as she flopped into the chair once more. "I'll check with Terry to make sure, and I bet you could probably corner Kyle and test it out on him if you want, too. If nothing else, he'll probably do that yelp and jump two feet high thing he does, if you start it up when he's near..." But Forge could likely easily get off the hook just by having fixed the problem, at that.

Smirking, Forge nodded as he handed Alison's keys back to her. "I'll make sure to ask the Professor before I take apart this thing - it's likely to be even older than HE is. Probably wants to keep the antiques the way they are." As he dutifully reassembled the picture frame, he saw another one that caught his eye - Jubilee and Terry standing behind the Professor, the two girls looking noticeably younger, barely into their teens. "Man," he asked rhetorically, "didn't the guy EVER have hair?"

Opening her mouth once, then closing it slowly, Alison gave Forge a brilliant, helplessly amused smile. "Golly gee, Forge. Maybe you should just... ask the man himself?" Rising from the chair, Alison waggled her fingers at Forge cheerfully, her motion towards the door revealing exactly why she had just made that suggestion.

"Indeed, Forge. Doask me," the man in the wheelchair said, one eyebrow slowly going up to punctuate the statement.

For the second time in ten minutes, Forge nearly did a backflip in surprise. "Oh! Um, Professor... I didn't see you, I mean, I wasn't..." Awkwardly, he pointed at the clock. "Needs tuning. Makes noises. I'll, uh..." Glaring over at the smiling teacher, he sighed. "I'll just get my toolkit..."