This is the sound of nothingness formed into our own image. The environment is an abandoned industrial park on a breezy night. The metallic hum in the background is untapped electrical current still coursing through the walls: it's as if the entire area is groaning, waiting to be brought back to life. Water drips in puddles on cracked concrete floors, rusting debris rattles in the wind, metal gates open and close in the distance--and all the sounds, muffled by a million reverberations off dusty walls, echo down deserted corridors to your ears. The pent-up energy of discarded machinery and the discarded people who used to tend to it is closing in and surrounding you. Wastelands, you now realized, are no longer places that are untouched by human hands; they are, instead, places that have been formed by human hands and left idle. This is the uncanny sound of traces of who we once were, the sound of a world built to cater to needs we no longer have.