Lord of the Beep

I have a somewhat troubling affinity for beeping. Yes, beeping—the antiseptic siren-call of electronics. For some reason, it’s become an obsession for me. When I hear a beep (or some other machine chirp) I feel a compulsion to imitate it. I can control it most of the time, but I often just have to admit to myself that I am about one pair of K-mart underpants shy of being Rainman.

After discussing this peculiarity with someone recently, I started to wonder what it was about beeping that I was inextricably drawn to. My first hypothesis was that I simply had always thought beeps were funny, and that somewhere along the way my whimsical simulation of the beep became a surreptitious tic. This seemed plausible enough, and so I decided to let it go for a while.

But I started to pay attention to the background of my day, for once, and I was amazed at what I heard. I removed my phone from its charger-beep! I swiped my fare card at the subway turnstile-booop! I bought my coffee at the register—beep,beep,boopitycheep, and have a nice day! In the elevator at work—dip,dip,dip,BingBong! Flashed my magnetic badge to get in the door on my floor-beeep, click! I bought a drink from the vending machine—beepbeepBOOOP (woops, wrong button), beep, whirrrrrrrrr, beepbeep and the final percussive Blam! of an arriving beverage.

It’s clear to me now. These boops and dings and beepitycleeeeeps are the soundtrack to living. They are the maternal heartbeat in my worldly womb. Beeps are the music of life. I am merely singing along.

Beep.