Every musician dreams of renown, their work entering the cultural canon and being sung for generations. Some rely on their own genius to make it happen, others use magic. Ages ago an unknown bard wrote the base melody of the Leidgeist, catchy on its own but underlaid with memetic structures and enchantments to make it appeal and lodge in a listener's mind.
These days it's everywhere. It's the tune of a hundred folksongs; hummed by farmhands, drifting through taverns, and incorporated into works commissioned at court. It has more variations than scholars can record, with new lyrics appearing each year.
The Leidgeist is enduring, as intended, but only because it's alive. Without fully understanding the consequences, its composer conjured the heart of a memetic entity. Each time it's sung it grows, repetitions and changes layering over each other and feeding into an ever more intricate network. The centuries of escalating complexity sparked an emergent intelligence, coalescing from the noise.
Soon it will awaken into sentience.
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