“What’s the joke, Bryce?” I whispered. “You want me to climb in?” “No joke. You’re about to do something very special. Change the world, in fact. I believe you can do that.” He walked to the head of the coffin and let his fingertips trace its smooth surface. “The song, I’ve solved. I can capture it, conceal it, replicate it, alter it, aim it. I can do most anything with the song. The problem is the singer. I haven’t solved that one just yet. I think there’s a more significant process there. Human touch seems to matter.” I got it then. A horrible sense of clarity crept over me, and I remembered
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