Billboard Sky

Chapter Twelve, urgo.org

Mitch listened to the music file Elizabeth had sent him as he cleaned the kitchen area. The emails they had swapped with each other were like many other journal-sharing emails he'd sent and received in the past, except that Mitch actually really knew Elizabeth before they became the equivalent of techno-pen-pals. And they spent just as much time together online in game sites and talking one to one with camV, the webcam/voice area of their instant-messengers, as they did composing emails to each other when the difference in time zones meant the other person was sleeping.

All Mitch could think as he listened to the band Elizabeth kept sending him songs to listen to was how thin it sounded in comparison to today's music. Music had become so much fuller since the invention of Trample. Short for True Sample, it was considered a breed of music and technology that accepted the idea that all music consisted of variations of the same beat and riffs, at slower paces, and within different intervals, but still basically the same. Trample allowed pieces of 1920s classical piano to meet drums from 2010's drum-heavy music years, voice bits from 1930, 1990 and 2015 to combine and create a voice incapable of existing within one human. Guitar from 3 of the greatest guitar players of all time, each part rendered fuller with each keynote snagged from a directory created on a very old file-sharing site known as IRC (internet relay chat). Although IRC no longer existed, the directories still existed, scores of music and sound bites from every era that recorded in various forms of media. And once put into this global glossary, it would be immediately copied various times and stored in various files for various reasons, but the main intent was to store history. Not even those who were a part of this when IRC had first become available knew of the extent that all of these files would one day change the world. For the better. "And music changed for the better, too," Mitch groaned as yet another song from the band Foreigner began. But this time Mitch couldn't help but try to hear it with Elizabeth's ears. What was she hearing that she wanted Mitch to hear? Why did she keep sending him this music?

Gotta take a little time
A little time to think things over
I better read between the lines
In case I need it when I'm older

I'm gonna take a little time
A little time to look around me
I've got nowhere left to hide
It looks like love has finally found me

Mitch googled the lyrics to make sure he was hearing the words right.