Acoustic blinders

I recently got some new noise-canceling earbuds, and they are terrifyingly effective. Although I have thoughts on sound quality, technology, whatever, this post is not about that.

It's about how when I walk down the street and tap my left earbud, it only takes seconds to eject me from this world. A polite robot announces, Noise canceling. A light swell of static obscures outside sounds. But as the static fades, the noise of the world does not return.

Now I glide down the sidewalk unmoored, an astral projection on the hills of San Francisco. I see the cars rushing by and some kids playing on the basketball court, but all I hear is my own personal soundtrack. It feels, oddly, like I'm watching a movie of my own life.

Partly it's romanticizing being immersed in the bustle of the urban landscape, hearing the indisputable evidence of fellow humans going about their lives, but it's also practical. In Andy Weir's Project Hail Mary, it's mentioned that hearing captures fundamental physical facts - for example, the sound of a car approaching too quickly to stop before I cross the street. So it's a bit scary to think about: how many of us float through the city cocooned, unable to perceive other people or our surroundings?