AN ACCOUNT OF MISTER CONTAGIOUS:

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Fred is a composer committed and obsessed with seven minutes, six seconds, and putting the finishing touches on his self-proclaimed Epic is killing him—literally.

 

As he fixates on every nuance, every note, every moment in time, his allergies flare up and he finds himself in some bizarre situations, taking extreme steps to ensure the Work is complete.

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What happens when a work of art consumes your desires, your very being?

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When it’s the cause of your collapse, but the cure for an unending search?

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Will Fred achieve nirvana before it becomes the only thing in life with meaning, and will anyone else even care if he does?