Book One – Chapter 11

It was true. External beauty held no sway over Yves. It was voices. Voices captivated him.

He felt that he could not reproduce voices like he could reproduce beauty. Yves could perfect anything he saw. He could eradicate any of reality’s imperfections, and craft exemplary beauty with no comparison. He could reinvent perfection, but he could not create such voices or music.

No, that was the wrong way to put it. Yves could create a myriad of auditory illusions, infusing them with an equally wide range of emotions, both clearly distinguishable and subtle. But while he could acknowledge and even marvel at the beauty of his creations, yes, even create what appeared most appealing to him personally, Yves struggled to capture the truth he sought in the voices of strangers.

He crafted people that appeared indistinguishable from the real thing, but he could not do the same with voices. Because appearance, to Yves, was superficial; a body revealed many things, but it did not show the entirety of a person. While external appearance could change drastically over a short period of time, voices persisted in their character. To Yves, what he heard when others spoke held more truth than what he saw. A voice revealed a person from within. Even in moments of calm, you can discern underlying aggression, just as angry outbursts could not conceal inherent kindness. Voices carried characters and emotions more real than anything Yves could convey through a facial expression or pose.

Voices were the most real thing Yves could find in others. He could only imitate and pretend. Listening to his own creations felt like listening to his own voice and character, just distorted.