Our songs melded, converged, took on life. It felt like they almost became a living, breathing thing.

It’s working! I heard Ligeia’s gleeful voice in my mind, even as she never broke the song. I’m beginning to see where…maps! I need maps!

I looked around the room for any sign of an atlas, but there wasn’t a book in sight. But…there was a computer. I opened a web browser to “maps.google.com.”

Ligeia came over, still singing, and took the mouse. With a twirl of the scroll wheel, she zoomed all the way out, then closed her eyes and let her hand move the mouse like the pointer on a ouija board. She clicked, she scrolled, she clicked again, and the focus began to narrow. The southern United States…Florida? no…the Gulf of Mexico? No, wait…the Caribbean. Further and further she narrowed, deeper and deeper she went. Cuba…the extreme southeast of Cuba…

Finally she stopped, and we let the song fade away. She opened her eyes, and together we stared at where the song had led us.

She blinked. “Guantanimo Bay?”