You wouldnt like it cos youre not interested in dancehall
"Oliver!" Luke cried with an almost manic excitement, his eyes wide with an intensity that bordered on religious fervor. "I've got the ultimate experience for you today! We're listening to the all-consuming Autechre. It's time."
Before Oliver could object, Luke shoved a pair of headphones onto his head and pressed play on his ancient cassette deck. The moment the first dissonant, glitch-ridden drone of Autechre hit Oliver's ears, his world began to warp. The sound was... wrong—not just unfamiliar, but malevolent. It twisted his perception of reality, contorted time, and seemed to make the very air around him pulse with strange energy. Oliver tried to pull the headphones off, but they seemed glued to his head.
"Come on, man, feel it!" Luke shouted over the cacophony. "This is the sound of everything!"
But before Oliver could protest, something even stranger occurred. A sound like gurgling pipes echoed from the bathroom, and a heavy rumble vibrated through the floorboards. Oliver, now struggling with the disorienting waves of Autechre, could barely comprehend the situation. Was this part of the experience? Was it supposed to feel like this?
Then, it happened. The toilet, which had previously been the most mundane fixture in his home, erupted with an ungodly roar. Out of it surged not water, not waste—but sound. A violent torrent of noise, a distorted whirlwind of Autechre's chaos, poured out of the bowl and into the room, like a liquid that could not be contained. It wasn't just an auditory experience anymore—it was a force, a physical thing.
The walls of Oliver's home shook. The diarrhoea-like liquid sound wasn’t confined to the toilet; it splashed against the walls, splattering across the room in a monstrous wave. The audio—the Autechre—flooded the space like a sentient entity, consuming everything in its path. It oozed under doors, into the kitchen, over furniture, drowning the air with its relentless, glitching dissonance. The foul stench wasn’t of waste—but of something far worse: the all-consuming nature of the music, twisting everything it touched into an unrecognizable mess of sound and distortion.
Oliver scrambled, trying to flee, but there was no escape. The Autechre was everywhere now—splashing over him like a flood, through the house, spilling down the stairs, out the front door. It followed him. No matter how fast he ran, it surged faster, an unstoppable wave of noise and filth.
Luke, however, was absolutely enthralled. "This is it!" he shouted, his eyes wide with ecstatic disbelief. "This is the sound of the universe consuming itself! It’s like a cosmic purge! You’re feeling the Autechre, Oliver! It’s alive!"
Oliver didn’t know whether to scream or laugh. He couldn’t understand what was happening to him, but he could feel the Autechre—its twisting, pulsating presence—taking over his mind, his very thoughts slipping away into the chaos.
The sound didn’t stop. It couldn’t stop. It poured out of the house, out into the streets, where it collided with everything in its path. Cars stalled, their engines shrieking with feedback as the Autechre filled their speakers. Street signs bent and distorted under the pressure, as the entire town was overwhelmed by the sound.
The sky began to warp. The very air trembled as the Autechre stormed upward, a swirling vortex of dissonance that reached into the heavens. Oliver stood frozen as he watched the town, his home, and even the roads themselves begin to dissolve into a swirling mess of sound and chaos. No one could escape it—not the police, not the people fleeing in panic. The Autechre consumed them all.
And then, like some twisted cosmic force, the Autechre—still a liquid mass of shifting noise—rose into the air, soaring through the atmosphere, breaking through the stratosphere, climbing toward space. Oliver could do nothing but watch, his mind now entirely lost to the sound. The International Space Station, that symbol of human achievement, became just another vessel for the Autechre, as it was sucked into the tidal wave of distortion.
The music—no longer confined to the human realm—began to merge with the ISS. The station's technology warped and contorted, as if it too had been assimilated by the all-consuming force. The sound expanded, growing beyond the stars, beyond the very fabric of the universe itself, as the Autechre spread outward, a sentient black hole of glitching, rhythmic chaos.
It devoured stars. It devoured planets. It devoured everything. Time, space, and form were no longer coherent concepts. The Autechre was everywhere, in everything, expanding infinitely. The universe had become its medium, its canvas.
And then, in that endless, consuming sound, Oliver felt his mind dissolve completely. He couldn’t think. There was no room left for thought—only the infinite, relentless Autechre.