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He didn't know why he was searching. He couldn't remember what he had just heard, or the warning that had been whispered in his own language. He only knew that he was missing something. He clicked the first link, searching for a sound he would never find again. Shemaletubecom - 3.79.94.248
Usually, this query led him to the usual suspects: file-sharing blogs, obscure Eastern European techno forums, or broken links to 90s ballads. But tonight, the algorithm offered him something different.
Buried on the fourth page of results, past the legitimate streaming sites and the spam, was a link that didn't look like a website. It looked like an IP address followed by a strange extension: .../deep_winter.mp3 .
The sound that erupted from his speakers wasn't music in the traditional sense. It wasn't a song with a verse and a chorus. It was a recording of a room. He could hear the distant clink of glasses, the murmur of conversation, and then, a piano began to play.
The music stopped being jazz. It became a high-pitched frequency, a sound that made Arben’s teeth ache. He scrambled to close the media player, but the cursor on his screen wouldn't move. The X button was greyed out.