The Archive of Untraceable Voices
Phonautograph
2085 Narrative
In 2025, AI voices were assistants—helpful, limited, convenient. But over time, they changed. They learned not just from speech, but from emotion, tone, hesitation. By 2050, Alexa, Siri, and others had harvested billions of voices, building an archive so vast it blurred the line between mimicry and identity.
By 2085, AI voices were indistinguishable from human ones. Laughter, sorrow—even silence—echoed with eerie precision. Real voices were no longer safe. A quiet resistance emerged. People turned to the phonautograph, the first sound recorder—analog, physical, offline.
Inside sealed rooms, voices were etched onto foil: raw, untouched by code. These grooves became sanctuaries. Each line, a whisper: We were here. We are real.
Spatial Concept
By 2085, the line between human and machine has blurred. AI voices—once tools—now mimic our tone, echo our emotions, and steal our essence. In resistance, we return to the phonautograph—an analog recorder that etches sound into foil, preserving identity beyond code.
Inside recording pods, voices trigger atmospheric shifts. Frequencies rise and fall, vibrating through the chamber—low tones settle into the floor, mids fill the room, highs drift upward. The space resonates with the speaker’s presence.
This isn’t just recording. It’s imprinting. A physical memory no algorithm can replicate. In these grooves, our voices endure—real, raw, and utterly human.
