He pressed middle C.
The hallway hum grew louder. Warmer. He realized, too late, that the sound wasn't coming from his apartment. It was coming for it. Every brass instrument within a mile was resonating in sympathy—school band rooms, jazz clubs, a pawn shop cornet forgotten in a cardboard box. TPS - Brass Section Module VSTi.zip
Leo yanked the power cord.
Then the track recorded itself.
He should have run a virus scan. Instead, he ran it. He pressed middle C
Silence. Then, from the unplugged speakers, a single, perfect B-flat. Held. Slightly out of tune. he ran it. Silence. Then