Beeeeeeep

On the hostility of continuous noise

Humanity heard its first beep in 1957. Certainly, there had been beep-like sounds before, emitted by car horns and morse code machines. But this beep was a true beep as we know it today, emitted by a computer rather than triggered by human hand. 

It came, quivering eerily through the ether, from the Sputnik. The first ever human-made satellite was launched into space by Russia, and incorporated a clever trick for proving it was actually there: a beep, broadcast over radio waves, so that people at home could tune in (you can listen to it here). From 4th October 1957, this new Soviet outpost in space announced itself every 90 minutes as it passed over America. It fell silent 22 days later, when its power source ran out. It was, for many, the sound of fear. 

I wonder if anyone understood back then that the Sputnik had given birth to a new form of terror; not the latent threat of the Cold War, but the persistent menace of the beep. Seventy years later, modern life is assailed by the piercing sonic emissions of machines that were supposed to liberate us. In my own house, the kettle beeps when it comes to the boil, the smoke alarm beeps at random every so often to assure us that it’s still alive, and the washing machine beeps to announce the completion of its cycle. When my food is ready, both the air fryer and the microwave beep in triumph, meaning that I often hover over them, watching the seconds count down, just so I can avoid the final assault of noise. 

Illustration: Paper Trident/Shutterstock