There is a man having some sort of lonely mental crisis at the central point of ‘Compelled Echo State Park.’ A Ranger is stretched across a bench nearby, looking at his phone. He hears me approaching and shifts as though he might lend the weeping man some assistance, fulfilling what, I have to assume, is his duty at this particular posting. He shrugs, instead, and goes back to ignoring us both.
To be fair to the man-in-crisis, ‘Compelled Echo Cave’ is a lot to wrap your head around. The nearer I get, the clearer it is that the man’s outbursts are being prompted by the cave itself. The distant sounds of his own hysterics emanate from the dark, there, and hearing them elicits a fresh bout of wailing. Though, that’s not really what’s happening, is it? In reality, the man is being compelled to echo the wailing- his crisis playing out in the cave before it manifests on the surface. I feel a twinge of existentialist discomfort, myself, and before I can find the words to comfort the man, I hear my own voice echo out of the cave: You okay, man?
It’s exactly the sort of low-bar discomfort I have to offer in any situation: reluctant and almost judgmental. I try to think of something else to say but the words form in my mouth anyway.
“You okay man?”
No. The cave says.
“No,” the man answers.
To be fair to the Ranger, this seems like the sort of thing a person has to work out on their own.
‘There is no better way to upset your already less-than-stable understanding of the universe than to visit ‘Compelled Echo State Park,’ where the cave seems to anticipate noises at its mouth just before they happen. Researchers of the compelled echo phenomenon fits neatly into the established understandings of natural science, but the papers they produce utilize a great deal of technical jargon to beat around the bush and to eventually suggest other avenues of study to be explored at a later date.
Some find the pre-mimicking of ‘Compelled Echo Cave’ to be difficult, but ultimately therapeutic. Others insist alien wordings and intonations are insinuated into what they are forced to say at the mouth. Still others assume the whole thing is a scam. Suffice to say: nobody likes the sound of their own voice.’
The cave speaks again: Look, I’ve never been good at this sort of thing under normal circumstances. I’m not going to make you feel better.
It pauses so I can catch up. The words tumble from my lips.
But this thing has always been here and seeing it for yourself doesn’t change anything.
I say all of that, too, and then I hear Hector sneeze in the darkness. A few seconds later, the Hector at my feet sneezes and seems legitimately surprised by the cave, as though it’s the first strange thing he’s noticed in all this traveling.
I hear the sneeze because the cave, and therefore the man, has quit crying. In fact, when I listen closely, I can hear the unexercised grunt of me pulling him to his feet.
The man opens his mouth to speak and I stop him, afraid we’ll end up back where we started. It must work, because the cave stays quiet and, soon, I hear the man’s footsteps fading into the dark. Soon after that he leaves.
Thanks! The cave shouts, and I turn in time to see the Ranger say the same thing. He follows the man down the trail and toward the parking lot.
I sit at the entrance of the cave for a long time, waiting to hear what I’ll say next.
But no words come.
-traveler
