Delivery — Memory — Suffering — Sublimation

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In the factory’s testing room, the freshly assembled loudspeaker model Genelec 8020D was thrust into darkness—a narrow, suffocating hole that swallowed it whole. Uuuit! Uit! UUuuiit! A quick, frenetic sequence of frequency sweeps, ranging from 20Hz to 20kHz, coursed through its circuitry, while a screwdriver prodded it in the back. This birth cry, designed to fine-tune the loudspeaker's frequency response, was muffled by the thick, sound-absorbing material that enveloped it.

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This birth cry, designed to fine-tune the loudspeaker's frequency response, was muffled by the thick, sound-absorbing material that enveloped it. Perhaps it’s the slight variations in coil windings or the microscopic flaws in the cone that gave this 8020D its unique sound. Or maybe it’s something more ineffable, a soul melted into the very neodymium atoms of its magnet. Yet, to human ears, every 8020D needs to sound the same.

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With swift movements, the connection was severed. Unplugged, the loudspeaker was wrapped tightly in plastic, packaged into a cardboard box and transported to the warehouse. In the darkness of that box, it let out a small cry.