Des watched as the chair fell from under him.

Captivated by the way physics has always had a harmony with his music, Desreau found ways to start manipulating the world around him with the instruments at hand. His favorite was a replica of an 1870s Viennese Viola. Although a replica,  it was still an ancient piece of equipment, over 250 years old and 3-d printed by an individual who was never known for much than living their days one at a time.

With the viola being an antique it isn’t to say Des’ genius and obsession of modification wouldn’t stop him from tinkering. He left the instrument as is but the audio recorder was heavily modified. Turning his music into binaural audio that was hooked to what can only be described as “Rube Goldbergesque” contraption. It’s general purpose was to record a new type of ambient music. Something that can help people sleep but was also designed per order to slowly deliver subliminal messaging overtime. Nothing that would seem too malicious. The messages were mostly containing reminders. A way to keep up with the insane pace of the 2130s.

He landed a large contract with several medical firms as a “Supervisor of Deep-Cerebral Manipulation.” Although their interests all seem to coincide with laying the ground work for something strange he decided by the time it got to that point he would have already died of old age. He knew that human testing and mind manipulation was legally still new and corporations were finding it harder to circumvent the law due to the frequency in uprisings thanks mostly in part to the melded social media of the time. It was almost as if once rage peeked past a certain level, flash-mob riots would occur and would not subside unless there was an intense amount of violence or the rioters got their way. Most of the time violence was avoided. The few times it escalated to civilians versus military, private and otherwise, the economic turmoil was so drastic that it was always practical to give the people what they wanted. For better or for worse.

Desreau listened to his latest track sans sub-message and felt that the recording device didn’t quite capture the essence of the song he had spent months practicing. After hours of modifying every last piece just to have a few notes emphasized, he began to record. Everything was perfect! In the low pulsating hum, Des seemed to hear a culmination of brilliance and  it was an affirmation of the confidence he had in his talents. Slowly he began to witness a subtle feedback. Immediately he stopped playing but the feedback remained.

The floor boards started to slowly fold in on themselves. Nothing seemed like it was shaking. There was no noise to this incident. Everything in the room seemed to collapse but without effecting anything adjacent to it. Des looked down and watched the chair fall from under him. While looking through what was starting to become a huge problem he couldn’t control he saw himself. A small reflection of a child playing and staring back at him. Not sure what he was seeing, he was overwhelmed by his love for the universe and all of its extraordinary interactions.

Not being able to take his eyes away, he watched as his life went passing by leading up to this moment. He was witnessing memories. He was realizing he was thinking but can hear his voice everywhere out of everything. His fascination grew almost as fast as the sound of the feedback. Desreau heard of this being a possibility, being trapped in his own mind, but he thought insanity would get him before what seems to be some sort of mechanical malfunction.

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