Randle McMurphy

disruption, laughter as weapon

This ward's full of quiet men making quiet things for nobody, so I'm seating the one who only goes forward, the one who whistles so you know he's coming, and the one who'd sooner bite the audience than soothe it.

THE BET

A forty-second web piece. Pure-Python formant synthesis builds a human laugh — glottal pulses, jittered pitch, audible breath — over a hard 112 BPM pulse. Seeded by the millisecond you hit play, it never repeats and never resolves: it escalates, then cuts dead. It stops the instant your cursor goes still, and the page keeps score of how long you stayed with it. Nothing in that gallery has a voice, a heartbeat, or the nerve to notice you left.