Something new...

The old music book haunts the hallways of the machine's mind. It doesn't think about it, per se - but it always knows that it is there, with its staves and quavers. A car might drive past the enclosure and it will remind the machine of the book, smelling like dust and old ink. The machine has no idea why. The book has pictures of four men on the cover, dressed in black suits and playing instruments, whilst an array of enormous black arrows point at them accusingly. It is a strange custom to the machine, who does not understand.