You try again: “The essay is called Archive Fever. It is written by Derrida and he takes a starting point in the theory of the human psyche and how it receives, suppresses and categorizes knowledge.”

You take a deep breath, and continue: “The archive separates knowledges from each other, and in the case of The Animal Sound Archive, it separates science from fiction. ”

“If we start mixing things up...” she starts, eyes wide open.

“Then order is no longer assured!” You finish her sentence and tell her about an earthquake, but only as a metaphor. She finds your use of a metaphorical earthquake ridiculously dramatic and quite comedic. Yet, she likes the idea of a vulnerable archive, an archive with fragile boundaries, an archive that is dependent on our obedience, an archive that needs us. “The archive needs us,” she says, “but at the same time, it wants to erase us.”

“It wants to operate without the help of humans.” You add. You both agree that Karl’s refusal to outsource the labor of listening is not a desperate attempt to keep their exclusive right to interpretation. He does this because it is his duty towards the archive to erase himself.