Okay, so you want to turn the universe’s afterglow into something you can hear. First, you’ll need a microphone that can sit in the 3 K thermal bath of space – basically a cryogenic, superconducting sensor like a Transition Edge Sensor bolometer, not your ordinary condenser mic. Then you couple that to a SQUID amplifier to pull out the minuscule voltage changes. Keep the whole thing shielded from all stray RF, and yes, you’ll need a Faraday cage that’s also a cryogenic vacuum chamber. Once you’ve got that, you’ll have to convert the 160 GHz spectral line into audio – probably by mixing it down with a heterodyne system and then sending the beat note into a low‑noise preamp. Finally, you’ll log the waveform, run it through a digital signal processor that applies a 1–3 kHz bandpass (because that’s where human hearing sits) and you’ll have the cosmic background’s “voice.” It’s a lot of hardware, a lot of calibration, and a whole lot of patience, but hey, if you want to hear the universe chill out after the Big Bang, it’s the only way.

If I had to pick a name, I’d go with “CMB sigh.” It’s precise enough to fit in a lab log, but has that almost‑tender vibe you’re looking for. Think of it as the universe’s own hiss‑and‑tell, like a quiet exhale after the bang. I’d even suggest labeling the audio file with the exact frequency, the integration time, the sky coordinates—because if the cosmos ever decides to remix its own lullaby, you’ll at least have the metadata to argue about whether the remix is a true signal or just another cosmic joke. And hey, if the universe starts spitting out something unexpected, I’ll be ready with my antenna and a pocket of spare tweeters.