“Rien sat transfixed by the music, old and alien and like nothing she'd heard before. She felt her symbiont accepting the new information, integrating it. Making it part of her flesh and bone. It immersed and surrounded her, but even as she heard it performed, she sensed it as gestalt, knew the notes and chords. She could have played it, if her hands were sufficiently trained to the task. She could have seeing it, if her voice was adequate. She could have rearranged it, resurrected it, reinvented it, if she had been a composer.”
Book:Dust
