«This is Oscar. I’m sorry to disappoint the war that killed you guys, but I finally got out of the coma. Over.»
«Affirmative. A landmine took my hearing and bound me to this damn wheelchair. I’m not giving up, though. You deserve more than a war memorial. Respond, over.»
«Repeat. Not all at once. Don’t lose your nerve, soldiers. Don’t lose yourselves. One at a time. Over.»
«Roger. Your family, our friends, they’ll get to say goodbye. Your radio operator will take care of it. I was never discharged, you know. Over and out».
White noise features an asymmetric experience, with the Fallen on one side, their Relatives on the other, and the Veteran acting as interpreter. This absurd exchange of transmissions with the Beyond is made urgent by the need to leave war behind, to find the courage to start over or finally rest in peace. The only code to deal with the dead is made of memories, of the experiences that kept us close in life.