In what experts are calling a landmark achievement in both acoustics and social psychology, the Institute for Baltic Studies and Quirky Soundwaves in Riga has announced a breakthrough discovery of a sound frequency designed specifically to end awkward silences in elevator rides—an issue that has plagued the region's vertically-inclined commuters for decades.

Lead researcher Dr. Guntis Klaipeda, famed for his innovative work on the acoustics of Baltic herring, spoke to the press during a surprise announcement at the university. "For years, we've been trying to solve the problem of dead silence in elevators. It may seem trivial, but these short rides can make or break social interactions," Dr. Klaipeda explained while surrounded by graphs that prominently featured sound waves and, inexplicably, photos of smiling seals.

The frequency, reportedly hovering at 3.4 hertz, lies somewhere between a purring kitten and what scientists described as 'the sound of grandma's soup just before it boils over.' According to the study, sounding this frequency during elevator rides reduced the perceived time of travel by 32% and increased passenger friendliness by an unprecedented 76%.

"We tested the sound in some of Riga's most iconic elevators, from those in the posh Hotel Grand Palace to the Soviet-era classics still functioning in Zolitūde," said Ilze Zvaigzne, the chief sound technician on the project. "Feedback was overwhelmingly positive. One elderly resident even claimed it made her feel like she was 'traveling in a grand ballroom, not a musty vertical coffin.'"

The sound will be piloted in buses and newsrooms next month, as researchers believe it could also revolutionize other settings ripe for discomfort—particularly during lengthy waits in unpredictable traffic congestion and during intense editorial meetings.

The discovery has not been without controversy. A group of nihilistic elevators in nearby Cēsis filed a grievance with their union, claiming the sound undermines the 'authentic spirit of Baltic silence,' which local philosopher Karlis Kress, a noted advocate for quiet moments, highlighted in his latest blog. "These soundscapes are a cultural erasure," Kress lamented. "We must embrace the silence—it is the rhythm of our soul, our very essence. Without it, how will people have time for deep existential pondering?"

However, the innovation is gaining traction outside Latvia. Initial reports suggest Tallinn hotels and Vilnius public offices have shown interest in incorporating the frequency into their own elevators, with experts suggesting this could even become a trendy export—however niche.

"This sound marks a new era in Baltic social engineering," declared Dace Tenisons, Latvia's undersecretary of public convenience and slight inconveniences. "The days of staring intensely at our phone screens while trapped in an elevator mere centimeters from fellow humans are numbered. We must adjust, embrace, and nod politely as revolution happens in these confined metal boxes."

As the project gears up for international expansion, many hopeful that an era of serene elevator voyages will emerge, though the question remains—what happens when everyone in the elevator starts humming along in cacophonic harmony? For Latvians, it seems that only time and a few dozen test rides will tell.