...of human evolution

"But say, you managed t'talk with her all right," the old man said. "How'd you do it? Telepathy?"
"Lipreading. I studied it in my spare time."
"Lipreading, of course," the old man said, nodding with approval. "A right effective technique. I know a bit myself. What say we try carrying on a silent conversation, the two of us?"
"Mind if we don't?" I hastened to reply.
"Granted, lipreading's an extremely primitive technique. It has shortcomings aplenty, too. Gets too dark and you can't understand a thing. Plus you have t'keep your eyes glued to somebody's mouth. Still, as a halfway measure, it works fine. Must say you had uncanny foresight t'learn lipreading."
"Halfway measure?"
"Right-o," said the old man with another nod. "Now listen up, son. I'm telling' this to you and you alone: The world ahead of us is join' t'be sound-free."
"Sound-free?" I blurted out.
"Yessir. Completely sound-free. That's because sound is of no use to human evolution. In fact, it gets in the way. So we're going t'wipe sound out, morning to night."
"Hmph. You're saying there'll be no birds singing or brooks bubbling. No music?"
"'Course not."
"It's going to be a pretty bleak world, if you ask me."
"Don't blame me. That's evolution. Evolution's always hard. Hard and bleak. No such thing as happy evolution," said the old man. He stood up and walked around his desk to retrieve a pair of nail clippers from a drawer. He came back to the sofa and set at trimming all ten fingernails. "The research is underway, but I can't give you the details. Still, the general drift of it is... well, that's what's com in'. You mustn't breathe a word of this to anyone. The day this reaches Semiotec ears, all pandemonium's join t'break loose."
"Rest easy. We Calcutecs guard our secrets well."

[Hard-Boiled Wonderland and The End of the World, Murakami, H.]