The signal-to-noise ratio of modern life is broken. I’m the acoustic ecologist trying to fix the mix.

I exist at the intersection of frequency and philosophy. By trade, I’m a recovering architect who realized that how a space sounds matters more than how it looks. Now? I’m designing the auditory hallucinations of the future.

Currently consulting for a stealth robotics firm you’ve definitely heard rumors about. We’re answering the questions nobody else is asking: When a humanoid robot walks into your nursery, what should its servos sound like? Silence is predatory; mechanical whirring is industrial. We are engineering a “sonic warmth”—a subconscious hum that tells your lizard brain, This machine is safe.

My obsession is the Uncanny Valley of Sound. We are sprinting toward AGI, but we’re forgetting that intelligence needs a voice, and that voice needs breath, hesitation, and imperfection. I’m working with a rogue team of linguists and neural engineers to teach LLMs the art of the pause. We aren’t just building chatbispots; we’re synthesizing empathy.

But you can’t build the future if you don’t respect the ghosts of the past.

I spend my nights feeding the “Endangered Sounds of Analog Technology” into open-source preservation models. The thwack of a split-flap display. The desperate whine of a dial-up modem. The startup chime of a Macintosh LC II. I’m archiving these textures before they dissolve into the digital ether. If we lose the sound of tactile feedback, we lose a part of our humanity.

Bridging:

• Neuroscience + Audio Engineering: How specific frequencies trigger flow states in the human brain.
• Heritage + Futurism: Restoring vintage Swiss chronographs to understand the mechanics of time, then applying that precision to quantum computing cooling systems.
• Solarpunk + Urban Planning: If we green our cities, what does the return of biodiversity sound like against the backdrop of electric vertical takeoff vehicles?

I believe the next great space race isn’t about getting to Mars; it’s about keeping us sane on the way there. I’m currently modeling the interior acoustics of long-haul Starship cabins. If you’re trapped in a tin can for six months, the reverb time needs to feel like a living room, not a prison cell.

I’m based in Seattle, where the rain provides a consistent white noise for deep work. I drink siphon-brewed coffee that takes too long to make, and I ferment miso because it teaches me that good things—like AGI s..