A whir. A hum. And a click.
A squat box-frame on the table makes a very slight, swishing noise. The fan inside the frame quickly ramps up the speed. More clicking noises as the circuits come alive as small, red lights blink from behind belt-ribbons and wires. The lights and clicks synchronize after five minutes, becoming one, the internal fan increasing its speed, causing a barely audible whine.
A small, black box glides upwards on the pneumatic shaft. Smooth and sure, extending upwards until it can't. Silent, graceful and satisfying against the backdrop of the frame's pulsing lights and metronome clicks.
From the small box, two LCD-green lights flicker, become solid and pulse into intensity. A solid, almost death-like glow inside the dim room.
The small box, from its mount on the shaft, angles smoothly downwards, the dull and bright green lights scanning the wooden artifact. The pallid lights pulse once and then return to their nominal status.
Shadows of gears from inside of the frame start to move. Well-oiled, almost no noise, movement happens. A stick of dull metal pushes out from either side of the frame. The sticks start to telescope smoothly, joints from recessed points appearing to create articulation.
At the end of each stick, much smaller slats, connected to each other by black-diamond filaments slide out and dangle before they stabilize and become webs of structure and fine movements. A sub-routine allows the webs to go through a test series of movements.
In an odd jerky movement, the sticks and webs move to the object on the table but still nimbly pick it up. There is a long pause: the next movement carefully plotted.
The right stick and its web gently and slowly moves to cradle the body of the acoustic guitar. The left stick and its web gingerly hold the neck, not touching the strings. The right stick makes an adjustment and its web hovers over the strings. Another pause as the internal application uses a random algorithm to make a choice.
It's not known where the Martin D-18 1947 instrument came from. The dull wood shows the guitar's age. It's fragile as it's held by the sticks and web, looking as if it is about to be destroyed in a violent and crushing action by the webs.
The algorithm makes its random choices.
The web over the body starts to pick and strum at the six strings in perfect time. The web on the neck glides over the frets, the right pressure to make the notes happen. Pressing down to make the single notes, squeezing with predetermined strength for the bar chords when called for. The web strumming causing the right string vibrations.
The webs move fluidly, playing Victor Young's “Beautiful Love”. Pausing at the end to allow the algorithm to upload the next song to play...Vivald's “Concerto for Guitar in D minor”.
Perfect movement. Perfect articulation on the strings. Perfect timing. Perfect notes.
Once done, the sticks and webs placed the instrument down. Gently. The webs slipping back inside of the metal sticks. The sticks move back to within the frame. Small swish noises as the parts glide back into their housing.
The dull lights flicker off. The shaft glides downwards, taking the small box with it into the frame. The clicks and blinking lights slowly move out of syncopation until they stop. The fan shuts off. The almost inaudible whine fading away.
A whir. A hum. And a click.
The experiment was a failure.
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