I've been rather behind in the story, and I apologize. I've already written far ahead of this point, but I'm just not...I dunno, not writing lately. I had some emotional issues lately, and that's crippled my fingers and my imagination, and I haven't been able to effectively recover. I'm hoping to do so soon enough.2
First, Thank yous:3
Thank you, Poetry Soul, for sending that nice little "reminder" that you (and probably others) are eagerly awaiting another section. I just haven't been myself, and have withdrawn quite a bit, so I hadn't put more up, nor put much to paper. I think I will soon enough, but...well, life happens. Still, the message was a strange sort of encouragement that I appreciated greatly, thank you.4
Thank you goes to a certain LJ, whom reads these posts but I do not believe actually is an Allpoetry Member, but perhaps this thank you to her will encourage her in some way. Because of your phone call asking about the story (and whether I've added any more of it online, and willingly listen to me explain certain as-of-yet unposted sections of the story to you late at night, I was urged to put more online. So, here's to you!
5Thank you, Procrastinator...a very sarcastic thanks to you. In a rough period, your comment seemed to be salt on a snail, and I shriveled. However, upon re-evaulation (and the fact that the characters were about 12 years old in the story, and therefore written in a style that related most clearly to 12 year olds), I have concluded that though your statement was possibly accurate, it's also flawed. I'm just writing the story as the story comes to me. If you like it, read on, my friend. If you don't, suck up the wasted time and read Charles Dickens, for all I care. I dare say the story will liven up more as you continue, or at least weird you out before the real meat and potatoes are served, but hey, dinner will be offered, and I hope you eat well, or starve while waiting...6
Thank you, Satsuka, simply because that was a very kind comment to have placed on the last section.7
Someone said that the background was irritating on one of the stories, and so, with a slight bit of reluctance (although I was intending to do three sections in one background, then start the next three in another, but I didn't do it anyway...), I will be altering the background. No, it doesn't affect the story, but maybe more people will be keen on reading 5000 words on a page online if it's easier to do so. Whomever complained, I thank you...strangely enough.8
Uh, thanks to all those who keep telling me that this should be published. I've begun thumbing through the book "Eragon," written by some upstart 19 year old, whom everyone is saying is God's gift to the written word, but I don't believe his writing is all that excellent. However, I do acknowledge that his story is at least inviting, and that's where the opinions should be based on. His very dry usage of adverbs are annoying, to me, and I see a large amount of talent mixed with immaturity. In a way, the encouragement that I might be able to get this published, intermingled with this kid's already-published self, makes me believe that, if I get my ducks in a row and actually get the writing done, I might have something to show for it...anywho...9
For everyone's working knowledge, I do post roughly 5000 words a section, and I am presently at 13,878 ahead of this post. I've compiled about 2 words shy of 39000, and therefore even if I DON'T write more, I have about two more sections-worth able to be posted, so, like everything else about this LONG story, it doesn't end here...10
...oh, and yes, for everyone who comments and says "This is a LONG story," I would like to say, "Uh, yeah, that's why they call it a NOVEL...I hope everyone's read one before, and if so, you will realize that it's not short." I mean, sheesh, I can't stop until it's done...right?11
Now then, without any further ado...12
A Fortiori Or Bust13
1514
The lights in the room went black, then appeared to be lit by candle, casting grim shadows on the walls from the chairs and the people in the room. Cleona was in the chair facing him. The woman in the corner was still there, looking as nonplussed as ever. The last projection flickered into existence, a graph showing a solid line with a low arch and high crest near the end.15
“Yes, these results are excellent, Mr. Ronson. We have everything we need to finish processing and preparing for your new home.”16
“New home? So I’m not gonna be able to leave, uh, this place? This ‘A Fortiori?’”17
“Sadly no. You’re dead, Daniel.”18
The statement seemed to hang in the air, frozen in time, the letters floating slowly from Cleona’s lips to Daniel’s ears, where they bored a hole into his skull, nested, and scrambled his brain. He could almost imagine it settling down, reaching the base of his spine, causing a shiver.19
“But…but I’m here! I’m as alive as you!”20
“Only in thought,” she said curtly. “You’ll understand later, when you get your guardian. The guardian will answer any other questions.”21
Daniel threw the older woman a disgusted glance, one of defeat and child-like selfishness. She ignored it and continued talking.22
“It is apparent that you are affiliated with the Grá de Focal, and you’ll reside therein.”23
The paper lamps retained their solid light, flashing briefly, and the other two chairs reappeared. The three stood, openly congratulating Daniel on his tests, welcoming him to A Fortiori. He stood and received them, trying to play along and assume formlessness. He found he was getting better at it all the time.24
After a few minutes of idle banter, most of which contained highlights from Elizabeth as she described the fight that Daniel was forced to participate in, the woman with the red blouse, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, stood and interrupted the festivities.25
“Daniel,” she said, “it’s time to get going. You don’t need to push the guardian scheduling any later than it already is.”26
He shook hands with the three test givers one final time, turned, and walked behind the woman, out the door and back to the main room of the pagoda. The receptionist, Vlad, was still at the table, writing again, but this time using both hands, two different stacks of paper. If this had been the first thing he had seen when arriving in this alternate world, Daniel would have been puzzled. Having undertaken so many very unusual activities already, though, limited the shock value and puzzlement. He accepted it easily.27
“Vlad, Mr. Ronson needs a guardian,” the woman said with a coldness in her tone that indicated she didn’t want an attitude.28
Vlad continued to scribble furiously on the pages, never even looking up to greet them. He did answer, however, “Behind me, a door will open when you get close enough. Go down the hall, take a right on the second crossing hallway. Room 234, it’ll be on your right side.”29
“Thank you, Vlad. I hope being helpful didn’t break your concentration.”30
The man grunted again and refocused on his task, whatever that might entail.31
The woman led the way once again, Daniel right behind her. As she walked to the empty wall, the shape contorted, moving with the fluidity of water but the consistency of clay. It solidified again, a white, Victorian-styled door. She opened it and they both walked through.32
Unlike the first hall, this one appeared to be cubicles. True, there were halls, but the rooms weren’t enclosed. He knew they were rooms, as Vlad had listed his, because the doors on them were labeled with numbers. 150 was the first one, increasing as they walked forward. There was a ceiling, but it was high above them, the cubicles appearing to be open air separations, each one hardly more than five feet long, a closet door on the front of each. The cubicles were interconnected, with no space between one room to the next, which indeed made a wall and a hallway.33
When the two of them reached Room 180, there was a crossing hallway, the first change in scenery they had seen in about two minutes. The woman kept walking, but Daniel looked down the hall, noting that it stretched a distance that he could not define. As far as he could see, the hallway fogged after a certain while, and he could see no further. It was the same the other direction. He hurriedly caught up to her and fell in step. She didn’t seem to have noticed he had slowed down.34
“Don’t get off track, Daniel,” she said, confirming that she knew he had stopped. “You get lost in here and it would take months to find the exit. Experience is a wonderful teacher.”35
He caught the reference. “Someone’s been lost in here before?”36
“Wouldn’t you know it. Search parties ‘round the clock had a hard time trying to locate him. Heck, without an assigned guardian, we were ready to give up. Ah, here we are.”37
The second hallway appeared, the number 200 on the corner room. She turned right and led him down, passing the 33 more rooms before arriving to his. The drab exterior of the rooms were wearing him down. Everything was grey and lifeless, a strange cotton board which was both soft and rough to the fingertips. Everything looked the same, and he was glad when he arrived.38
The woman opened the door a crack. “This is where we separate, Daniel. I’m proud to have had the opportunity to usher you into this world. After watching those tests, I can’t wait until you’re a full Magine, and not just an inductee.” She turned to leave.39
“Wait…can you tell me your name before you go? You know, so I can properly thank you?”40
She smiled. It was a very attractive feature, and he noticed that her eyes were a bright shade of blue. “Samantha. When you’ve gotten the hang of life here, look me up. I live in Amour D'Art. Just ask around when you get there.” And she kept walking, reached the split in the hall, and turned left, out of sight.41
Daniel grabbed to door and pushed. It gave quietly, and he saw a small, lit room, larger than the cubicle shape the outside wall hinted at. The walls were blank and lifeless, equally grey as the outside, with nothing hung from them. There was a metal desk in the corner of the room, a title and name on the end. The title simply said “Guardian.” The name was “Natasha Petrovich.”42
A chair behind the desk was swiveled away, facing the opposite direction. The armrests held two pasty arms. There was a chair in front of the desk, empty, and Daniel took it. The other chair rotated, and an attractive woman, with brown eyes and black hair, faced him.43
“Welcome to A Fortiori. I’m Natasha, and I’m destined to be your guardian.”44
1645
Cute guy, she thought, when she first turned around and saw him. Hard not to miss those green eyes. 46
“Uh, hi,” he said. After a moment of quiet calm, neither one speaking to the other, he asked, simply, “Now what?”47
Natasha cleared her throat and stood, right hand extended. “Now I give you a tour of A Fortiori. You’ll see the primary dwellings and residences here, some of the more important regions of the land that you may—or may not—visit from time to time. Even if you don’t go to all the places I show you, it’s good for you to know where they are.48
“After the tour, during which I’m sure you’ll have all sorts of questions, I’ll take you to your home. It’ll be done by then.”49
“What do you mean ‘done?’”50
“I mean built, created, manifested. It doesn’t exist as yet, but now that the tests are done the place will be made in no time. It’ll be small, at first, but that’s normal. They never manifest large houses for new arrivals. Only established Magines have nicer domiciles.”51
Daniel was puzzled about what question he should ask next. Who are “they”? What is a “Magine”? How big is the land? But he kept quiet.52
“Daniel, if you don’t mind. Stand and follow me.” She, having already been on her feet, walked to the right wall and touched it. A door morphed into view.53
“Coming?” she said, a mischievous grin brightening her soft face.54
“After you,” Daniel said, mocking chivalry as he got up from his chair.55
1756
A bright glare of natural light burst into the cubicle, sunshine bursting and glowing more brightly than the florescent above the room. Natasha exited to a sidewalk which extended from the backside of the pagoda. The door was the only one on the wall, linking the building to the outdoors. As Daniel left the cubicle and reached Natasha, he looked back to the pagoda and watched the door morph back into the rest of the wall, reforming into the pre-existing pattern.57
The sidewalk stretched to meet a road, an empty, gravel-laden stretch of land. Grassy knolls rolled far past the horizon, which met a cerulean sky reminiscent of an early sundown that looked more like an oil painting than reality. Daniel stared at it when he reached the woman, the beauty which was difficult to fathom.58
“Nice, isn’t it? We’ll reach that point soon. It’ll be the second stop on the trip. That’s the Artists’ region, Amour D'Art. Looks unreal, doesn’t it?”59
“Yeah,” Daniel said, his voice dreamy. “I was just thinking that it looked like a painting.”60
“It should. That’s probably the painter’s area you see from here. The areas always look like their distinct quality. Just wait until you see the Abstract Art area!” She laughed a flirtatious giggle that made him want to join in, even though he didn’t know what was so funny. “We’ll get to that soon, but we’re headed to the musician’s region first. We’ll have to wait here a moment. It always takes the shuttle a few minutes to arrive.”61
“Shuttle?” he asked, but a quiet screeching sound began in the distance, to their left. From the far reaches of the road a foggy dust ball appeared, an odd cloud that obscured the fading horizon. The center of the cloud contained an odd contraption, something that looked to Daniel like a double-decker bus. As it came closer, the object seemed circular, completely surrounded by glass, filled with people inside. The screeching grew louder as the transport closed in on their location, and the people inside gained more and more details. Inside there was a collection of men and women, nicely dressed, sitting at tables and desks, but they were all sideways, assuming the walls as the floor. Daniel had to double-take to be sure of what he was seeing.62
As the machine came closer, the screeching changed into rhythmic sound, a chorus of violins and cellos. The size of the object was massive, tall rather than long, and the walls looked to be aisles rather than towers, complete with paths and intersections. The music was beautiful, with a great many of the passengers actively playing. A series of vocalists entered the melody now, and as the machine made the final trek to them, it took Daniel all of his strength not to be knocked to the ground by the force of the music, not due to its volume, but by its beauty.63
The cloud of dust encircled them, blinding and causing them all to shield their eyes from the invasion. As the dirt settled, the glass tower was in front of them, perfectly situated on the road. It was cylindrical, oval, and arranged with what appeared to be black sandpaper rows on the lining of the glass where the passengers could walk up the walls. Chairs and tables were indeed situated comfortably along the inside of the ride, sideways, some people sitting comfortably, while a great many seats were empty.64
A short platform unhinged from the side of the machine, dropping down like a drawbridge, creating a sort of strange ramp on which Natasha and Daniel walked on. Daniel was continuing into the machine, passing Natasha, but she put her arm out and grabbed him, halting his progress.65
“You just stand here,” she said, pointing to the platform. “They’ll pull you in.”66
He was silent and, after a few seconds, the platform shuddered and tilted them both into the machine. He felt a horrible sensation of vertigo, but gravity held, amazingly, and when the platform realigned itself with the side of the machine, they were standing sideways on one of the aisles.67
“C’mon, there were some good seats on this row,” she said, and walked down—or up—the wall.68
He followed, slowly at first, unsure of the strange effect he was suffering. The aisle, which had the grippy substance, was black, so he could not see through the glass beneath his feet, but just past the row it was clear, and he was able to look down, somehow seeing the pagoda, which was quickly disappearing, revealing other rows of buildings, the backsides of the courtyard he had seen much earlier, and then a purple horizon beneath him. When he looked up, he was able to see the strange, painted horizon he saw before coming on board. It was dizzying, and he could feel his stomach twist.69
“I wouldn’t suggest doing that,” a voice said. It was one of the passengers, a grandmotherly old lady with a kind smile. “It’s best if you just keep walking to your seat. Don’t bother looking around until you’re steadily on a chair.” And then, before he passed her, she asked, quietly, “Didn’t your guardian tell you?”70
He shook his head and pointed down the aisle to her, “I’m new here. She’s over there.”71
The woman snorted. “That crack pot,” he could hear her mutter. But he kept walking, finally catching up to Natasha.72
“Pretty neat, eh?”73
“Uh, yeah,” he answered. “Where’s the music coming from?”74
“Oh, up that way,” she said, pointing to her right, further along the aisle. “The music shuttle almost always has a musicians group of some sort performing.”75
“It’s beautiful! I’ve never heard something so amazing! Beethoven would be proud!” he said, and she laughed.76
“Ludwing better be proud! He wrote it!”77
Daniel’s bliss-laden face was replaced by a scowl of puzzlement. “Why hadn’t I ever heard it before?”78
“Probably because he wrote it here, in A Fortiori, about three clicks after he became a Magine.”79
“Wait…he’s…Beethoven’s here?”80
She lifted an eyebrow, “You’re surprised?”81
“Not especially, no…still trying to adjust.”82
“Of course.” She spoke no more.83
Daniel used the quiet during the conversation to soak in the magnificent opus that was wafting through the air. He watched as the horizon never changed so much as that purple was concerned, and cycled through the events he had undergone since getting into a scuffle with his club.84
The he remembered what Cleona had said.85
“Natasha…one of the test givers said that I’m dead, just like everyone here in A Fortiori. I said that it couldn’t be possible, since I was talking to her, and she was talking with me. What did she mean?”86
She entwined her fingers, lacing them in front of her. She looked briefly like an academic. “She was serious. You are actually dead. Not here, no, but in the real world, you’re as dead as a doornail. There isn’t a way for you to return, if you’re thinking about trying, but no one would want to leave when they finally get used to this place anyway. Our world is so much more enjoyable.87
“But, as for the test giver, well, she was blunt, but honest. See, in the other world, when a person breaks the law by materializing their imagination, the scanners here record it and intervene. The individual who breaks the law falls into an unconscious state, and when the trial is completed—uh, the same sort of trial to see if you were guilty of actively and knowledgeably breaking the law—the body will either have the consciousness return to it or will have the final remains of the consciousness removed and reassigned here.88
“The body, however, dies. Without a working brain, it will usually fall into a coma and pass quietly, mysteriously, whatever. Usually it’s just heart failure. You’ve heard stories of kids having that nowadays, right?”89
“Sure. I remember hearing a 13 year old having that. Strangest thing, come to think of it. His friends and family swore he was a healthy kid.”90
“He probably was,” she agreed. “I know the boy. His name’s Michael, and certainly a gifted artist, even in his youth. You’ll probably end up the same way. Mysterious illness, suffered hallucinations and an angry demeanor before you died, your witnesses will say. It fits the pattern well, you know.”91
She stopped speaking, and he didn’t ask for more. It’s not everyday someone is told they are a dead man. He laughed.92
“What’s so funny?”93
“I remember reading that P.T. Barnum wanted to read his obituary before he died, so he asked the New York Times to publish it. They did so, he read it, and politely died two weeks later.” He chuckled again. “Guess I’m sort of in the same boat.”94
Natasha smiled. “Not quite. Barnum still has the edge on you.”95
“How?”96
“He’s here too.”97
For the Liebe von Musik98
1899
The shuttle continued the dusty path to a destination unknown. Daniel tried looking out the back window, the opposite direction that the shuttle was headed, but the cloud interfered too much to see anything. The front window was as empty as the horizons below and beside him, but soon, out of the corner of his eye, he saw some buildings approaching them.100
“There it is, the first of five realms.”101
Daniel squinted, hoping to retrieve better details of where they were headed. He could faintly see buildings and paved roads, but there were no distinctions otherwise. He did, however, see faint black specks floating lightly, hovering and diving at unusual intervals.102
“What are those?” he asked.103
“Hmm? What are what?” Natasha said, half interested.104
“Those, weird black things?”105
She leaned to her left, trying to get a closer look herself. A look of revelation shone from her suddenly. “Oh! That’s the notes!”106
“The what?”107
“The notes. We’re entering Liebe von Musik. That’s German for “Love of Music.” Anyway, they have flying notes.”108
“Like old cartoons?”109
“Yeah,” she agreed, “But they’re more closely related to animals. Some people actually keep them as pets. Fantastic to keep too, since they eat nothing, don’t make messes, and simply float around houses. They are an actual note, so they make a tone occasionally. It’s always the same tone, like middle-C or F-sharp or whatever. Depends on their size.”110
Daniel laughed in amusement. “Why don’t they keep real animals?”111
“That’s simple,” she said with a slight tone of disappointment. “They don’t exist.”112
“Don’t exist! There aren’t any dogs or cats?”113
“That’s not a part of this world.”114
He was aghast. He loved his pets, a cat and a dog that lived at his childhood home. Seeing them was one of the highlights of the end of his semesters. “What about, I dunno, cattle? Or sheep?”115
“None of that either. It’s not like they would be needed anyway.”116
“But what would we eat? I mean, I’m not a vegetarian, and I don’t think there could be an entire world of non-meat-eating humans.”117
Natasha smirked and shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, that’s no problem either. We don’t eat.”118
“But…I…don’t…no eating?”119
“Of course not. We’re not actually here, you know. Oh, I suppose you might get a strange urge of hunger once in awhile, but it’s no different than when you imagined sweat on your forehead. When you don’t think about it, it doesn’t exist.”120
“So, if someone thinks about cows in that pasture,” he said, pointing to the pasture, and, at the same moment, imagining the field loaded with cattle. As he looked out his window, he could see well over a hundred Holsteins, each marked with the traditional black and white blotches. Natasha was almost as shocked as Daniel.121
“Wow! Did you intend to do that?”122
“What do you mean, ‘intend’? I figured you did that.”123
She kept staring, unblinking, out of the glass. “It would take me some time just to make one of those cows…” she said, fading into awe.124
“I just pictured a bunch of cows, and now they’re there?”125
“And now they’re gone, more like,” she said, settling back into her seat. He looked out the window again and saw that they were no longer around. “You must have gotten too distracted about their suddenly being there. That’s normal. I really haven’t seen anything quite like that before, not in a very long time. The realm leaders usually have that power, which is part of the reason they are the leader.”126
“Do you mean ‘leader’ as in ‘king’? Or is there some sort of election for that?”127
Natasha chuckled and smiled, something captivating in the small glint of white teeth she shot him. “We’re very progressive, Daniel. We’ve blended governments, creating a sort of communistic democracy. Everyone here works fairly and evenly, splitting the assignments equally so that no one works less, or more, than anyone else. People who lead are elected directly, since the realms aren’t large, and everyone can gather in their respective realm to vote in the leader by hand.128
“Anyone elected serves as their realms’ leader for six months, and is a sort of guide for work assignments. There’s one judge, the same one who tried your case, who is elected yearly. Anyone who served as leader is eligible to run for judge.”129
“So the judge is like the very top realm of government?”130
“Not exactly,” she said, “it’s hard to explain. When you’ve been more exposed to life here, it will be easier to understand. Ask me then.”131
“What about work? What’s that entail?”132
“Well,” she started to say, but the shuttle came to a ragged stop, interrupting. “I guess I’ll get to it later. Time for your first tour.”133
They both stood, the horizon spread out below them. The symphony quieted. Natasha led the way to the drawbridge door. They both stood upon it, joined by six or seven others, and the release unhinged and swung them down at an angle. That vertigo feeling shuddered through him again, but he was more prepared this time. All around the machine—each separate row in fact—dropped identical drawbridge doors, allowing well over thirty people to leave at once.134
When they stepped out, they saw a crowd of people preparing to board the contraption, groups of three or four boarding the drawbridge and entering. The group that exited shuffled to their destinations, each going about their own way. The shuttle began moving, passing over the paved road, and Daniel noticed for the first time that the shuttle was floating, not rolling, above the ground. It floated away, passing directly through the town, of which he was finally close enough to admire.135
The nearest building was wide, airy, a variety of instruments hanging on display, but all of them representing the string family. The black specks he noticed earlier were all around him now, darting and dancing in the light breeze, an occasional musical note coming from one of them. He stood admiring the strange effect of watching musical notes behave as they did. He felt a tug on his arm, and snapped back to reality.136
“Daniel, I have to walk you through here. Just stay near me and stay within earshot. I’ll describe things as we pass through.”137
The concrete was soft on their legs, completely unlike pavement. When he looked closer, the road was actually a standard musical staff, the very end of the road, where the shuttle crossed from the dirt road, held the indent of a treble clef. He took two steps, and two black dots remained on the road, like footprints in sand. They faded in only a few moments, but he knew what they looked like: whole notes.138
As he looked around, the people bustling from one place to another who walked on the road left equally strange marks, all of which vanished soon after being left. Some of them were quarter notes, some rests, and so on. Daniel noticed a pattern to match the marks, as well. The smaller the note, the faster the person was walking. Those in a great hurry were leaving eighths and sixteenths notes. Those in no hurry at all, such as himself, left whole notes. He wasn’t able to figure out the rests, however.139
He looked up and saw Natasha had made here way further down the road to an intersection, and she was waiting for him to catch up. He jogged to her, noticing the eighth notes he was leaving in his wake.140
“Pretty strange, ain’t it?” she said as he arrived.141
“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry. Got kinda lost in my own world for a moment.”142
“It happens to first-timers. Have you looked at the buildings yet?”143
He shook his head slowly. “Not really. The first one I saw had a bunch of violins hanging, and it looked like a thatch hut or something.”144
“Oh, that’s the kook. He really doesn’t represent this area. Look over there,” Natasha said, pointing up and to the right.145
There, reaching high into the sky, was a massive guitar. It looked to be leaning on an instrument rest, tilted slightly backward. The base of the guitar had a door, two windows, and a number of string instruments hanging on display. There were more windows along the bridge and neck, and he bet that it was either a series of stairs or an elevator which led people to the very top of the guitar, where the silver tuning pegs were. Sunlight glinted from one of the six pegs.146
“It’s perfectly in tune, you know,” she said. “People take pride in their homes.”147
“This is a home?”148
“These are all homes,” she answered, waving her arms in a circle, pointing out the community. Every building was, indeed, an instrument, in some form or another. Most were violins, although he was able to spot a mandolin further down the intersecting road and a viola the other direction. Each was a perfect adaptation of the smaller article, but each also had cosmetic differences with windows, gardens, and other traditional household apparel.149
They kept walking, traveling further down the musical staff road. The intersection was not formally marked, from what Daniel could see. When he looked for a road sign, he noticed only a plaque that showed only a musical scale, which he could not understand. The houses, which were string instruments at first, started to shuffle between them and brass, with trumpets and horns now being the housing of choice. Also, as they entered the differing area, the background music—something that Daniel had only vaguely noticed before—changed from predominately string-based to a mixture of string and brass.150
“When we get to the percussion, I have to show you the artifact. Each realm has one, representing the realm they reside.” Daniel didn’t understand what she was talking about, but he refused to ask, preferring to be shown when the time came and hoped he would understand then.151
The houses, instruments, became more and more brass, less string, and then an occasional woodwind building appeared. Clarinets and oboes, as large as the previous buildings, stood side-by-side the French horns and tubas, and like the music around them, their haunting melodic inclusion entwined with the sounds of the brass.152
“Hey, Natasha! Hey! Over here!” a male voice called to them.153
She turned, and waved to the direction of the voice. “Hey, Johannes! What are you doing in the Horns?”154
The older man jogged to them, leaving quarter rests trailing behind him. He looked to be about 60, a bushy white beard on his grandfatherly face. “I was going to visit Lou, but had to say ‘hi’ to you when I saw ya,” he said. He had an accent, a slight one, but it was masked by the man’s excited tones. “I had this wonderful idea for a sonata, if you could imagine, but…hey, who’s you’re guest?” He thumbed Daniel’s direction while speaking to Natasha.155
“Oh, this is our newest arrival, Daniel Ronson. He’s getting the tour,” she said. “Daniel, this is Johannes Brahms, composer extraordinaire.” Johannes thrust his arm out in a pleasant manner and Daniel shook it, an excellent jolt of their arms.156
“So what’s your affiliation? Art? Theatre?”157
“Uh, writing, I was told.”158
Johannes laughed. “I dare say you weren’t ‘told,’ so much as ‘are.’ Am I correct?”159
“Well, yeah, I suppose so,” Daniel said, with a slight withdrawn air about his words.160
“How did you like the other realms? I bet you are still trying to get over the Abstract Art area! Man, those people are weird, eh? I couldn’t stay there long before I’d go insane, I swear.”161
“Actually,” Natasha interrupted, “actually this was his first stop.”162
“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry. Newbies don’t normally visit Liebe von Musik first. But I guess Grá de Focal would be last in the circle from Orifium, right? So…” He trailed off, and Natasha picked up from there.163
“So we need to get going. I’ll see you later.”164
“Oh, yes, of course. And nice meeting you, Daniel.” The old man turned and walked away, his direction toward a large trumpet.165
“He’s a really nice man, but sometimes a tad on the deranged. Oh well, back on schedule, eh?” And with that, she picked up the pace and continued, walking more westerly with Daniel right on her heels.166
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