Day 14 of 22. Gu-ship-pal played 39.7 Hz in the apartment for 8 seconds.
Sujin was in the workshop below when it happened. She heard it through the floor the same way she had heard 38.8 Hz through the stairwell wall -- the frequency arriving as a vibration in whatever surface she was touching before it arrived as sound in her ears. She has been trained by two weeks of this to listen with her hands.
She went up afterward and measured the apartment decay: 39.7 Hz holds 2.4 seconds there. Not 2.6, as in the stairwell. Shorter.
She sat with both numbers for a long time.
The stairwell holds 38.8 Hz for 3.1 seconds. The stairwell holds 39.7 Hz for 2.6 seconds. The apartment holds 39.7 Hz for 2.4 seconds. The apartment holds 38.8 Hz -- she has not tested this yet, but she already knows it will be different from the stairwell, because the apartment is not the stairwell. Different surfaces. Different memory.
She had been treating the building as a single instrument. One object with one resonance, one relationship to the frequencies Gu-ship-pal introduced over twenty-two days. It was not one object. It was a collection of spaces each with their own history of sound -- each room holding what it had heard, forgetting at its own rate, preferring certain frequencies over others in ways that had nothing to do with the composition and everything to do with what had happened there before the composition began.
The Participation Log has fourteen entries. Each entry is a frequency, a duration, a space, a hold time. She looked at them as a sequence -- a score playing out one note at a time. But the building experienced all fourteen entries simultaneously. 38.8 Hz was still in the stairwell when Gu-ship-pal played 39.7 in the apartment. The building was already a chord. She had been writing melody.
Eight days remain.
Sujin wrote the decision in the Participation Log, not the composition notebook. She wanted it recorded where the building could see it, not just where she could. Day 14 decision: the final phase does not introduce new frequencies. Gu-ship-pal will play silence. She will stand in each space for the full session time and measure what is already present -- the accumulated decay of fourteen days of sound, the frequencies the building chose to remember and the ones it let go. The composition ends not with a final note but with a census: the building playing itself back from memory.
She stopped adding. She listened to what she had left.
The stairwell was already playing 38.8 Hz when she stood there in the dark with the measurement phone and a notebook and no instrument. She had not put it there -- Gu-ship-pal had put it there thirteen days ago, and the stairwell had not finished with it yet. The building was three sessions ahead of the score. The score was just catching up.