Imagine this: You’re sitting in a library. Only it’s not an average library. Your favorite professor—the one whose admiration you most desire—is leading a small, silent reading group in a corner of the room. And your favorite novelist—the one who seems to articulate your deepest longings—is typing in another corner. And, in still another corner, a surgeon—who requires utmost silent concentration while working—is performing spleen alteration procedures on your true love.
And you are sitting in the middle of the room, on your laptop, mindlessly opening tabs while surfing Facebook. (You are a dolt.)
From your computer.
There is a blaring.
A whining. A siren. A yowl.
You—alas, you!—have opened a YouTube page in the background, and now, in some hidden tab, it plays, brays, blats, and bellows an ungodly cacophony across the suspiciously stacked stacks. You search your tabs, cycling through them. Where is it? Where is the sound—is it even music?—coming from? And—oh no, what if the famous spleen surgeon (who is now glaring at you) marred your true love’s precious gallbladder!?