Tape Jockey

In a society where every mood is measured and every class is assigned a rank, the Melopsych Center stands as the nation’s auditory sanctuary. Its endless rows of spooled tape recorders broadcast curated soundscapes—single notes stretched into hours, symphonies, jazz riffs—intended to calm the nerves of Prime, Sub‑Prime and Mid Echelons alike. When newspaper reporter Bartle is sent for a routine personality interview with the eccentric technician Arthur Pettigill, he is ushered into this humming cathedral of recorded serenity.

The conversation quickly turns from polite formalities to the mechanics of the center’s massive therapeutic program, revealing a web of hierarchy, secrecy, and an almost reverent dependence on music as a mental salve. As Bartle sketches notes, the peculiar devotion of the staff and the sheer scale of the operation hint at something deeper than simple stress relief. Listeners are left wondering whether the endless loops of sound are a comfort or a subtle control, and what Bartle’s report might uncover.