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“Sinnessteuersymphonie”
A tale of mad science in six movements, with coda © E.O. Costello, 2008 *****
MOVEMENT FOURTH: Molto espressione 60 steps. Take one every three seconds and… “Ah, good evening, Miss Hunter.” There was a small light-globe near the bottom of the stairs, and I paused near enough so that the Necklace caught the light. My host could not have failed to notice it, and his smile was accompanied by a pair of flag-waves from his tail. Beta did her very best to control herself, especially since she sensed that Forrester was watching her closely. “Good evening, Beta. You look very nice.” Truth be told, she did. A green silk, off-the-shoulder dress with a circular gold brooch that matched her collar, down to the stone. It took her about a half-second too long to respond to my compliment, but any gesture on the buck’s part was probably cut short by the presence of the first guest. “Alatheia Hunter, may I present to you the Senior Mage Carmelita, of the Polydimensional Institute.” “How do you do.” Carmelita was dressed rather curiously for a Senior Mage. In fact, a cow like her would not have been out of place in Greenwich Village. She was dressed in a mannish pant-suit with a tie, and sported a rimless monocle in one eye. She carried a long cigarette-holder in one paw, from which issued a thin stream of aromatic smoke. “Carmelita, this is Miss Hunter, the young lady I was telling you about.” Carmelita turned to me slowly, and pressed the side of her monocle, which changed color from clear to yellow. She gave a slight bow. “Verrrrry charrrrrmed, Miss Hunterrrrr. I am most interrrested to meet you.” She offered me her paw to shake, which I did. Very business-like. After examining me through her monocle from headfur to shoes, she gave another bow, and clicked her monocle back to clear. “Langforrrrrd, arrrrrrre the gentlefurrrrrs late, as usual?” “Now, Carmelita, you know how hard it is for Brother Dominic to get away from his duties. There’s always something from his Abo at the last minute.” Carmelita gave an amused chuckle. “You arrrrre always his defenderrr, Langforrrrrd.” At this point, the front door chimes sounded. (Rich, mellow tones, beautifully tuned. Very pleasing to hear.) Number Four lumbered ponderously to the door, and opened it. Two of my fellow guests strolled in. Or, rather, one canine bounded in and the other, a dolphin rolled in on rubberized tracks, contained in what appeared to be most of a diving suit, filled with circulating water that hissed and bubbled. “Ah! Doctor Maldemort, Freiherr von *&^%$$! Welcome!” (Forrester put some extra effort into pronouncing his name.) The canine shrugged off his silk cloak with a flourish, and tossed both it and his silk hat, without a look, to Number Four. Whether it was luck or training, Number Four caught both, and waddled to put them away. “Bon soir, mon chere, ma cherie!” Dr. Maldemort, all smiles, bestowed two kisses each upon Forrester and Beta (Beta shooting me a little look of triumph), and offered a kiss to Carmelita. She frowned. “Unhygenic.” “Ciel. You have always the excuses. Ah! Oh?! Who is this, whom you magically produce, my dear Forrester?” The good doctor had noticed my presence, with both surprise and glee. “Eager as always, Doctor.” “Fewer comments, more introductions!” “If you insist, my eager friend. Honore Maldemort, this is Miss Alatheia Hunter, a guest of the house.” He clicked his heels, and kissed my paw delightedly. “Ah, quelle bonne surprise! I had no idea! Enchante, mamzelle!” “A pleasure to meet you, Doctor.” “()^###+-%$@.” “Yes, the Baron says that he agrees with the Doctor.” A series of pops, clicks and whistles were uttered by Forrester. The machine rumbled up to the Grand Staircase, and a mechanical paw – there was one on the machine -- was ponderously extended. I gently squeezed it, and the paw, which must have had very fine motor control, gently squeezed back. “(){**&]\@@.” Maldemort laughed. “He says it is well that there is more than one seafood fancier for once.” I gave the Baron a warm smile, which he was able to see by twisting his head. “I hope to keep you company on that score, Baron. I am happy to meet you.” Carmelita waved her cigarette holder in the air and muttered something. Two small glowing circles of smoke appeared. “Hm. Late as usual.” “Our carriage passed his wagon not far from here, Carmelita, he should be here very shortly.” The cow didn’t look convinced, but shrugged her shoulders. “If he has not stopped to collect a specimen.” “Be that as it may. Carmelita, Baron, Doctor…and Miss Hunter. Shall we go to the library?” I joined the group, and looked at Beta out of the corner of my eye. Beta shot me a glare filled with the kind of venom that might have afforded the Doctor scope for study. It looks like two of us had noticed that the Baron had overlooked her. As with the previous night, the library had a bar set up, though this time, there seemed to be more implements, including a bubbling beaker suspended over a Bunsen burner. “Ladies first, hien?” “Of course.” The buck turned to his two lady guests. I stepped back slightly, and nodded to Carmelita, who turned to Beta. “You have the materrrrials, yes?” Beta didn’t hide the look of triumph she shot at me, as she walked over, and opened a small jar of leaves. Which she then dropped on the floor. She froze for a moment, and then swallowed. Carmelita picked up the jar. “Therrrre arrrrre sufficient for one infusion, at least.” I saw that Beta’s ears were burning red, which is impossible to hide in her species. The bartender took the jar, and began the careful application of hot water and spices. “Miss Hunter?” “I believe that is Veuve Cliquot, in the bucket?” Maldemort couldn’t restrain himself. “Permettez-moi. I should like the pleasure of making the opening myself.” “No cavalry sabre tonight, Doctor?” “***&^%%%%$!” “Ecoutez, Baron. It is not so dangerous as you think, the cavalryfur’s method. Nevertheless, the conventional open it shall be.” The canine carefully scrutinized the bottle and the cork, and expertly opened it, with only a slight wisp of vapour. With a flourish, he poured a glass and presented it to me. “Beta? You wish a glass?” The rabbit nodded, and accepted her glass with a slightly shaking paw. Maldemort poured a glass for himself, my host, and then carefully poured some champagne into a particular compartment of the Baron’s suit. As the bartender handed a small steaming cup to Carmelita, I raised my glass. “May I propose a toast?” “***^” “Certainly.” “Mais certainment.” Carmelita tapped her monocle, which changed to violet. Beta’s eyes flashed red. “Nam et ipsa scientia potestas est.” The glasses and cup clinked. The Baron bowed his head, and slowly clicked a few times. Beta, who was glaring at me, probably should have paid a little more attention, as a little of her champagne spilled onto her dress, leaving a small wet spot. It was studiously and carefully ignored by the rest of us. The chimes from the front door sounded, releasing Beta from her awkwardness. A few moments later, a cowled figure quietly padded into the room. “You need not remind me, Carmelita. Yes, I am late, and yes, it is because I found a specimen of razor fungus not far from here.” Carmelita clicked her monocle back to clear, and gave a look of serene satisfaction to Forrester, who gently wagged a finger at her. “Good evening, Brother Dominic. I am pleased you could take time out from your busy affairs. Was it much trouble getting permission from Abo?” “No more than usual. He thinks these parties decadent and worldly. It takes much convincing to make him realize the need to exchange information. Good evening, Beta. Good evening, Doctor. Ah, Baron, back from that test run, I see. I want to speak with you, later, about some seaweed specimens I need.” The cowl turned to me. From it protruded only a pink nose and a patchy grey chin, the only indications of species. I caught a faint and peculiar odour from him, that suggested something slightly contradictory. “You, I am not familiar with.” “Permit me, Brother. The lady is Miss Alatheia Hunter. She was plane-wrecked off the Island five days ago, during the storm.” The cowl turned to Forrester. “An off-Islander?” The cowl turned back. “How very unusual. You are quite rare, Miss Hunter, but then…I have a keen interest in the rare. I am Brother Dominic, of the Mt. Cerebus Monastery. I am the chief herbalist there, and in charge of the greenhouses.” “How do you do, Brother.” There was an interval of silence, while the cowl moved up and down, interrupted by a few rapid clicks and whistles. “No, I am mindful of my vows, Baron, not that it matters. I am sure others of my Order would have less willpower.” “What will you have, Brother? We do have mead.” “A small tankard, then.” I smiled at the cleric. “Will it be difficult to keep your razor fungus fresh until you get back to your cell? Since there is so much light here, and it is probably too dry and warm.” The cowl tilted slightly, and then turned to my host. “The young lady anticipates my request, Forrester. I will need a small, dark, moist and chilled container for my specimen and earth.” “I’m sure we can press one of the beakers here into service, with some chemical ice.” “Yes…yes, that will suffice.” Carmelita frowned. “And wash your paws thorrrroughly, lest you poison us all.” The cowl didn’t even flinch. “I wore gloves in collecting the specimen, Carmelita. Do you take me for a fool?” “No. Absent-minded, yes.” The Doctor forestalled the fireworks, turning to me. “Razor fungus, to my knowledge, does not exist outside of Cranium Island, Miss Hunter. Yet, you know of it?” I was on my guard for this, and felt that the best defence was a good offence. “I requested some books from the library on the flora of the Island, and read them.” The cowl nodded. “Well-prepared. Perhaps you would be interested to see some interesting specimens of star-lilies, Miss Hunter?” “Wouldn’t that require a time machine, Brother?” Carmelita didn’t try to hide her laugh. “Trrrrrrricksterrrrr trrrrricked.” “Thank you, Carmelita, for pointing out the obvious.” I swished my tail. “Of course, given the star-lily’s medicinal value for curing fur diseases, I’m sure that neither you nor Carmelita have spared any effort to find preserved seed pods. Especially in the bogs a few miles from here.” Carmelita’s response was to tap her monocle, and give me a searching yellow look. Brother Dominic merely gave a faintly echoing chuckle. “Yes, I saw Carmelita there only the other morning, probing with a stick. We find many interesting things in the bogs, Miss Hunter. Don’t we, Carmelita?” This was obviously something from previous conversations, so the Baron gave some pops and creaks, which turned the subject (quickly) to the unusual weather of the day. Evidently, another neighbour was claiming credit for it, on somewhat dubious grounds. Forrester waved a paw gently. “Well, I suppose it will all come out when he presents his paper. If he dares.” “++)(*&%%%@?” I was listening closely to the Baron, trying to get a feel for how he spoke. Brother Dominic helpfully translated. “He was saying, Miss Hunter, that he hoped it was not a case of intellectual theft. On an island as devoted to Science as this…” He shrugged his shoulders. Number Four came to the door, and ponderously sounded the dinner chimes. “Ah, thank you, Number Four. Now, then. Carmelita, will you take my arm?” The bovine shrugged her shoulders. “I yield to yourrrr silly, if gracious trrrradition, Langforrrrd.” But she did take his arm. The Doctor was about to turn to me, when Beta stepped forward, and bowed rather pointedly to him. The Doctor took the gesture in humour. “Eh bien, it is imperative to obey les femmes, n’est-ce pas?” I nodded. Of course, it would have been a good time to point out that in walking up to the Doctor to head me off, Beta had a small part of the hem of her dress caught in the right tread of the Baron’s machine. But then, it was not my responsibility as a guest to point this out. I walked up to the Baron. “May I have the honour, sir?” The Baron turned his head to look at me, gave two soft whistles, and click-beeped a short phrase, gently manipulating what he had on the left side, a type of arm with a flat surface at the end, so it formed a sideways “V.” Brother Dominic translated in an undertone: “He said: ‘permit me.’” Beta advanced, her head held high. The Baron moved his machine slightly to let her pass, and there was a small, faint tearing sound as a portion of the fabric tore away. Only a small piece, but enough to be noticed. Beta looked down, and saw that I was standing on the other side of the machine, and thus could not have done anything. Well, except point it out, of course. This time, her entire face flashed red, and her jaw tightened. But in proper ladylike fashion, she carried on, leading the Doctor out to the Entrance Hall, followed by my host and Carmelita, and then the Baron and myself. Brother Dominic tactfully picked up the scrap of green velvet, and disposed of it in a nearby bin. *****
The dining room was much as it was last night, except that the table bore two candelabra, instead of one, and there were eight place settings. Forrester took his seat at the head of the table, his back to the glass, after seating Carmelita to his left. The Doctor seated Beta at the foot of the table, and then made way for Brother Dominic, who was to sit in between them; the Doctor was seated next to Carmelita to keep the two herbalist combatants separate. The Baron wheeled himself to the table, and one of the servants set the tray on his machine (absent a knife). I bowed to the empty seat to the Baron’s right, and seated myself. Only Carmelita saw that action. The open seat, I know, is reserved for the Spirit of Science, which is always present at any formal gathering of scientists on the Island. Etiquette guides should be standard reading. “Oh, Doctor? We’ve laid out your testing apparatus on the sideboard…” “Ah! Ca, c’est bien bon. D’accord.” I turned slightly behind me. Unlike last night, there was a small lab set-up, which reminded me a bit of a crepe station. Carmelita frowned. “Testing durrrrrring dinner. Rrrrreally.” “Alors. You are knowing perfectly well that ca, c’est necessaire parce que mon condition.” Brother Dominic turned. “Oh, dear, another flare-up?” “Ca ne faire rien. It is a precaution, nothing more.” “Hrmph. You will be more carrrrreful next time, yes, with the urrrrchin venom?” My host explained. “Doctor Maldemort needs to test his meals in case of a reaction to the medicine he takes. Anti-toxin for sea urchin venom.” Beta watched very carefully as the staff brought in the first course. The large, misshapen khaki shells indicated that the carnivores were being served the lump meat of Uca Ecclsi, the Backward Walking Crab. The herbivores had a plate of seaweed salad. “(), /;””}?” “The Baron noted that it was said of you that you were plane-wrecked.” “Thank you, Brother. Yes, Baron, I ran into a storm on my way to the Spontoons, and it blew me far off course. I was forced to ditch my plane. Mr. Forrester’s staff was brave enough to rescue me.” Carmelita peered at me through a yellow lens. “Ah, so. You fly heavierrrrr than airrrrrr vehicles?” “Yes, that’s right.” “Aerrrrrrodynamics and such, they arrrrre part of yourrrr trrraining?” “Well, I had some of my training at university, and then a great deal of practical training when qualifying.” “Comment. While we are the furs of science, the training we have had (except for you, Baron), it is in the science biologiques. It is hazy, this manner of the heavier than air craft.” The Doctor flicked at a test-tube, watching it change colour, before he nodded and bowed to Forrester, and began to eat his crab. “Certainly, Doctor. There are a few fundamental principles that guide powered flight…” A brief overview of what you are taught in the first few weeks of flight school carried us through most of the course. The Baron was the most active in the conversation, asking a number of questions about aircraft speed. I had a suspicion where this was leading. “Well, of course, it was one of your own countryfurs that filed the first patents for using radio waves to detect ships, over thirty years ago. And Tesla himself worked on primitive radar units. There are even luxury liners today with sets. The British patented a system suitable for air defence a few years ago. It remains to be seen what will be done with that. From what I understand, though, your research is in water-borne analogues…” The Baron waved his lobster fork in the air, and began a rapid-fire series of clickings, whistles and beeps as he warmed to the subject. He barely even noticed that his plate was cleared. Fortunately, my host gave me a running translation. Doctor Maldemort got up to test the next course, which was a fish broth with mushrooms and chives. Brother Dominic shook his cowl. “Honore, have you still not found a way to clear your system?” “Non. But researches, they continue.” I asked Brother Dominic what his specialty was. “My main project involves the bogberry. We are trying, at the monastery, to produce a more refined breed that eliminates some of the negative aspects of raising and refining them.” “Well, you have a lot of different species to work with, with all the micro-climates on the Island.” “Quite. Which multiplies the possible combinations, making things difficult to select.” “I would imagine that developing a more potent bogberry, and a hardier one, would have interesting ramifications. What kind of research has been done on the active ingredient in bogberries for stimulating heart-muscle, for example?” A slow nose-twitch from the cowl. “And what brings that to mind, if I may ask, Miss Hunter?” “Well, if the bogberry, in its natural state, acts by making the muscles of the stomach repeatedly and violently contract, it would stand to reason that one of the most practical uses of a more potent variety would be to inject it into a muscle that needed stimulation to contract and expand. A heart, for example.” A spoon vanished and reappeared from the cowl a few times, before being put down. “In point of fact, Miss Hunter, the Order is pursuing that very line of research, though we have not published any papers on it, and to my knowledge, there has been no public discussion of the matter. Any results are pending work on refining, as you say, the active ingredient, and on my work in breeding specimens that will yield more of this active ingredient.” He picked up the spoon again. “Your studies included medicine at your University?” “Not medicine, no, Brother. Botany, zoology and comparative anthrop anatomy were the required courses.” “Hmmm.” There was a sidelong shift of the cowl at my host, before the Baron interjected what appeared to be a question. “No, Baron, I wish there was a treatment using bogberries for exorcisms. That is what made me late tonight, by the way. Some young fool, mucking about with pentagrams, again.” Forrester frowned. “Oh, no. Major demon? Like last month?” “Nothing like that, please God. No, just a common demon, but latched in like a wood tick. Some herbs from my greenhouse were needed to power the censer. Oh, the young fellow will be all right. No wiser for the experience, but possibly better informed. You can be sure the parents are going to get a stiff bill from Abo. Three shifts of monks, plus materials. Adds up, you know.” I cautiously shifted my eye down the table. Beta was sitting with her paws in her lap, frowning. None of the other guests were looking at her. Only Forrester (and myself, of course) had kept an eye on her. The Baron, Brother Dominic and Doctor Maldemort began a spirited three-way conversation, which I gathered was on the shameful way the authorities were not cracking down on the young furs on the Island engaging in unsanctioned experiments. Some of the examples cited required a certain level of current events knowledge, so I watched instead as the staff began to serve the next course, a type of lasagna. Beta had been distracted by something that Brother Dominic, seated next to her, had said, so she didn’t notice something I, of course, noticed. The portion of lasagna served to the Baron had not been cut up. The Baron’s mechanical paw, as I knew from shaking it, had very fine motor control, but with a left paw being a mechanical surface, it would be very laborious to cut his lasagna, even with a fork. And he had not been provided with a knife. I readied my knife subtly, while the others were served. The three continued their denunciations, while the rest of his started. My host raised an eyebrow when he saw that I was rapidly cutting my lasagna into small pieces. It was only then that Baron, turning to his main course, stared at what was on his plate, confused. The others looked up, and saw that a faux pas had been committed. I put down my silverware, and shifted to my right, slightly. “*&^%;;, Baron.” I quietly exchanged my plate for his. The Baron blinked, confused. The other guests were looking at me, greatly puzzled. Beta was trying to avoid the stern look she was receiving from her master. It was the Baron, who in turning to me and addressing me, broke the silence with a few soft clicks and whistles. My host was grateful for the move. “The Baron says that you need work on your accent and tense structure, Miss Hunter. I am sure I am not the only fur in this room who finds it curious that you have suddenly developed a talent for Dolphin.” I had some of the lasagna. It was delicious, as were the small garlic and onion buns served with it. “It is mere mimicry, nothing more. The Baron had said “permit me” to me in the library, translated by Brother Dominic. I tried to remember the particular sequence of sounds the Baron had used.” My host raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Ah. Magicians should never reveal their secrets, Miss Hunter. Spoils the illusion.” Doctor Maldemort told a very amusing story about when he first began to learn Dolphin, and a near-disaster that happened when he addressed a young dolphin femme. Instead of asking her for directions, he asked her for something else, which would have resulted in almost certain scandal had it not been for some timely apologies and a father dolphin with a sense of humour. Beta, I could tell from the grip she had on her flatware, was taking the social mishap badly, even if the Baron, judging from the way he was leaning back and merrily clicking, was having a good time. Carmelita, for her part, continued to examine me through her monocle, though now she had switched to a green colour, and was tilting her head. “An interrrrrresting and highly developed specimen, Langforrrrrrrd.” “Hmmm? Well…good heavens, Carmelita, change that setting!” “Why? I only obserrrrrrve that young Miss Hunterrrr is verrrrrry well developed. Strrrrrong capillarrrry strrrrructure feeding the head and chest arrrrea.” In spite of myself, I blushed. “See? I am rrrright. Notice the blood flow to the earrrrs…” A frown and an undertone of comments in French ensued next to her. Brother Dominic shook his cowl. “Carmelita, is there any particular reason that you are examining the young lady’s body?” “Rrrrrrresearrrrch.” There was much waving of cervine ears, which weren’t as hot as mine were. “Now, Carmelita, there’s a time and a place for that, and you really should have had Miss Hunter’s permission. I am sure she would have granted it…” I had to recover a bit, but I decided that there wasn’t any venom in what the cow was doing, merely curiousity, if taken a bit far. “It’s quite all right, Mr. Forrester. After all, one must take one’s opportunities for data when one can get them.” A shake of the cowl. “Generous, Miss Hunter, but there is a time and a place for that, as Langford said.” “I have alrrrrready examined you, Brrrrrother.” “Yes, and my unhappy condition remains, so put that in your lab book.” I gently steered the conversation back to Dolphin, and trying to learn it from the use of plaintext translations. This led to a discussion of codes, and whether certain species had a knack for them. Deer, like our host, were conceded a small advantage, owing to their secretive and sensitive nature. It got things through the rest of the course without further mishaps. Small dishes of unsweetened mango sorbet were served in silver bowls as a palate cleanser. The Doctor turned to Forrester. “Langford, have you heard anything about those radio-photograph…?” He didn’t quite finish the question, because there was an explosion of noise from the end of the table. A tremendous belch, to be precise. The initial suspect, judging from Carmelita’s reaction, was Brother Dominic, but the look of dismay on my host’s face made it clear who had been the owner. Beta had her paw in front of her muzzle, and her eyes were opened wide. Quite an eloquent confession, not requiring any of her limited vocabulary. Tossing aside her napkin, she bolted from the dining room, and was gone in a flash, before anyfur could even rise from their chair. The Bananas Foster (which was scrumptious) followed as the next course, and was consumed in a rather pained silence. *****
The party had retired to the Music Room, and things continued to be a bit subdued, interrupted only by the clink of the port decanter and the puffing from the Doctor’s cigar. (Carmelita, for the first time, was drawing on her cigarette holder – remarkably, it seemed like it was the same cigarette that had been burning since cocktails.) I, for one, felt simply marvelous. Some of it was decided schadenfreude over Beta’s humiliation. All the more delicious since it was self-inflicted, and I did not have to move a single toe-claw to effect it. The Organ was glowing softly, its light throbbing in synchronicity with my heart. I had never quite realized how sophisticated the Control Melody really was. There were at least three layers of it, braided together in a sophisticated harmony. Silly of me not to notice before; it is so obviously logical as method of soothing and restraining brain functions that are otherwise missing. In fact, the Organ is a brain unto itself, now that I think of it, its electric nerves reaching throughout the mansion and the grounds. With a glowing blue heart and gleaming brass and steel skull beneath my footpads. Small talk could not lift the spirits of the poor dears, nor could a soft smile and a toss of the head-fur, not even on Doctor Maldemort, though I could sense I did get a small reaction from him. A French mel is a French mel, of course! I stood up, stretched one of my legs, and slowly walked over to where the orchestra had left their instruments. Beautiful instruments. The brass was gleaming, and the cellos’ and violins’ varnish glowed in the light shed by the room’s candles. It was the piano that drew me near. Yes, of course. How could it be anything but a Schweinway? And anything but a Philharmonic Concert Grand? Only a half-dozen made every year, and a waiting list to put Bugatti to shame. Dear, dear Langford! Nothing but the best will do, and there’s so little of that! Hmmm. This needs something. Of course. The candelabra hasn’t been lit. Easily remedied. There are some spills over there… There. That brings out the full beauty of the piano. Mmmmmm. Catches the light on the Necklace, too. Purely coincidental, I’m sure. Hmmm. It’s been so long since those lessons with Madame. And those recitals! Weeks and weeks of practice, for a mere ten minutes. But it did please Daddy, and what’s a young femme kitten to do if she wants to impress her father? Sitting here brings back so many memories. Those long, long, long winter afternoons. Perhaps if I had had more heart, more soul. I did not appreciate such things then, but I suppose that’s a failing of kittens everywhere, isn’t it? Such a pity I let things slide. Perhaps some handsome young cat would have preferred the elegance of a musical evening. How much do I remember… Think, my dear Alatheia, think…of course. It is as Madame always said: proper posture, elbows in the position. Orient the paws. Begin. C-sharp major triad, moving to the C-sharp minor home key. The Lassan has the dramatic introduction. Remember to keep the contrast between the dark and somber segments separate from those capricious contrasts… Ah! You never forget! How simple it all is, really. Just pay attention to what you see before you in your mind. The parade of notes… Hmmm. Yes, the Friska. Open in F-sharp minor…move to C-sharp major, repeat the Lassan theme… Ah, this is a segment I always loved. The alternation of the dominant and tonic harmonies…like lovers, they are. Yes. Build the momentum. Build! Pay attention to the dominant and the lowered mediant (A major)… Now, the soft bit of calm, the F-sharp major. Wait for it! The cadenza ad lib! YES! Wonderful! More! I must have more! Faster! Faster! More! Prestissimo! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Wonderful. It’s been a long time. Too long. Such a beautiful piano. So responsive to my touch. Ah. It would appear the audience approves. Doctor Maldemort is on his feet, applauding madly. Of course he would. Such an impetuous canine, bless him. Brother Dominic is applauding, too. The Baron cannot applaud, he must merely vocalize. What a peculiar sigil Carmelita has cast, and how intent her look is! What could it mean? And Langford…Langford? Langford? “Mille tonneres! Mon vieux, you have not fallen ill?” Langford is sitting very still. Even through his goggles, I can tell that his eyes are closed, and his mouth is open slightly. “&^%? &^%?” It is Brother Dominic who has the presence of mind to remember the brandy, and press it into Langford’s paw. “Eh?” “Are you well, Langford?” Things came into slightly more focus for me, as there was another long pause. “What? What? Oh. Oh, dear, I’m sorry. I do apologize, all of you. And to you especially, Miss Hunter. Above all, to you. I was awash in…in a memory…” Carmelita, having finished seeing whatever she was Seeing, waved away the sigil, which dissolved in a blue haze. “A memorrrrry, you say?” Langford sipped at his brandy. “It was a long time ago. I can never hear that piece without reflecting on Esterhazy. And such a vivid recital…” Maldemort nodded. “Yes. So tragic the colic took him so early. Vingt ans et demie.” “****, {}_+)(*&^%.” “Yes, Baron, a great tragedy there are so few recordings. Right after the War, of course, and furs had their minds on other things.” “&&$#@!~/,;” “The Royal Hall recital? My dear Baron, I was there for that performance.” Brother Dominic’s cowl snapped up. “Great heavens, you can’t mean it.” “December 17, 1920. Absolutely bitterly cold that night, as only Pest can be. The river was frozen over. I had to call in nearly every favour I could muster to get my one ticket.” “I wonder if Esterhazy knew he was going to be dead in two weeks. He threw everything he had – or so we thought – into the first part of the programme. There had been an intermission scheduled, but he smashed right through that, and not one of us could move a muscle.” “``’[“ “Yes, Baron. And then. The Hungarian Rhapsody Number Two. No, Baron, in fact, you understate things: it is a criminal oversight that there was no recording apparatus there that night. There was hardly a breath drawn during the performance, lest we upset the delicate balance.” “And when he concluded…” “Sheer, utter chaos. One fur dropped dead on the spot while the last note lingered. Four others had to be hospitalized. Furs weeping uncontrollably everywhere, and by no means am I ashamed to say I was one of them. It took a massive force of gendarmes to restore order, and things were within a hoof’s-breadth of a complete and total riot that would have pulled the Royal Hall down, brick from brick.” “I remember the critic for the Pester Lloyd had a succinct review in the next morning’s paper, consisting solely of the phrase: ‘None of you would understand, so why bother?’ Pithy. My sentiments exactly.” “And his last performance.” “Yes.” I sat on the edge of the piano bench, fascinated. I had never heard the full details of this event. Certainly, it is part of popular culture, and I’ve even seen vulgar animated burlesques of it…but to hear it from a fur that was there! My host turned to me slowly, after taking a long pull at his snifter. “No fur could ever hope to match such a performance, Miss Hunter. You could assemble today’s masters, and have them play for a week straight, and no performance could touch it. To even capture a tiny fragment of that performance, to recall a fragrant memory…” Langford’s voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes again, and sighed. The other furs finished their drinks in deep thought. I pressed the bell for Number Four, who appeared at the door. “Number Four, call the carriage for the Doctor and the Baron. And please see to it that the conveyances for Carmelita and the Brother are readied for them.” The party slowly made its way to the Entrance Hall, where Number Four appeared with the Doctor’s cape and hat. He opened the front door. A gleaming black metal carriage, pulled by two massive black horses with fiery orange eyes, stood at the door. Honore seemed to be struggling for words. He could only bend over my paw, kiss it, and murmur. “Votre servant, maitress.” “No, Doctor. I am your servant.” The Baron bowed gravely to me, and addressed a series of quiet whistles and pops. I leaned down, and kissed him on each cheek. A deep bow of a cowl and a small sign, and Brother Dominic also crossed the portal. Carmelita was the last to leave. She clicked through an entire palette with her monocle, before offering me her paw, and shaking it firmly. “You know not, what you arrrrrre having, my dear Langforrrrd.” And with that, the doors of the mansion swung behind the last of our guests. *****
Langford watched the doors close, his paws clenched tightly behind his back. “Is something the…” “Music Room. Now.” He whirled, and pointed a finger down the Long Gallery. “But…but what have I done…have I offended you?” “Now.” There was a tone in his voice that indicated that discussion, let alone argument, was unthinkable. I complied, of course, with his demand, and we were shortly standing near the piano upon which I had played. He was rapidly flagging up and down, his paws clenching and unclenching. “Please…tell me what I’ve done wrong…I don’t…” He whirled on me, nostrils flaring. “WHY DID YOU CONCEAL FROM ME YOUR SKILL AS A PIANIST?” The shouted question drove me back a step. “I…I…” “WHY?!” “Please! Please! I made no effort to hide it from you! How could I? I haven’t played the piano in ages.” “Do you expect me to believe that?! I heard you play. So did the others. Impossible!” “But…I haven’t practiced…” A long, drawn-out snort. “No practice?” “It…it just happened…when I came in here with you and the others, I…” In a flash, both of my wrists were seized in grip of iron, and I was pinned, spread-eagled, against the piano top. “Langford! You’re hurting me….” He lowered his muzzle an inch from mine. I could see into his goggles quite clearly, and his eyes were wide open and burning. “Omit. Nothing. Tell me. Everything.” I could only swallow and nod. “Yes. I’ll do as you say, Langford. I’ll do anything…” “Speak.” “It has been happening ever since I woke up here. Something filling inside of me…” “Where?!” “All…all over my body…b-b-but mostly my head.” “Your head.” “Yes.” “Continue. Leave out nothing.” “It’s like…something is clearing inside my head, that somefur has taken their paw, and cleaned away the grime and the dirt inside my eyes. I hear things, I sense things. The Control Melody…” “What about it?” “There are three distinct harmonies, each of which is separated by a minute. Their running time overlaps, so that at no period are any less than two harmonies acting upon the brain. In an anthrop brain that has had its higher functions removed, it would serve as a dampener, calming them, clearing their brain for orders.” He leaned in, closer. “Go on.” I closed my eyes, and swallowed hard, feeling him looming over me. “I…I can do things. Things I had thought I had forgotten. I can read books, books I’ve never seen before, and know their contents…” “What is on page 129 of the Flora Isla Crania?” “A colour plate of the Flame Nightshade bush, with an inset showing its flower, and another inset showing its seed pod. Intact and in cross-section.” His grip on my wrists tightened. It made me breathe harder. “And yes, yes, the piano playing. Please believe me, I haven’t played a piano in years, not since boarding school. But when I sat down tonight, I remembered. It was clear. I could see the notes…” “How? How?!” “L-l-like a parade, like an electronic sign. I needed no sheet music, I saw it in my mind, moving as quickly or as slowly as needed.” “Why did you play?” “It…it felt good. I wanted to play. The more I played, the faster I played, the better it was. Inside. All over. I had to have more. My mind was going down a tunnel. I was focused on one point…” A long pause, he breathed heavily. “And?” “The piece…ended. Things gradually opened up, and there you were, with the others. What does it mean, Langford?” He looked down, where the Necklace was on my neck. I could feel where it was warming me, and I squirmed involuntarily. I was let go, and he turned to lean on the organ with both paws. “What does it mean, you ask? It means I’ve been a fool, a blind fool!” He slammed the bench with the flat of one paw, making a sound like a gunshot. “And still yet, I cannot see! What is it?! It’s balanced on one edge of my consciousness, and just the gentlest nudge would tip it into full view. I must have a record somewhere, somewhere…” I got up from where I had been pressed against the Schweinway. “I’ve ruined your evening, haven’t I? Oh, Langford, I’m so sorry…” He looked up. And laughed. “Ruined? My dear Miss Hunter, do you know what it was that the Baron said to me as he left? Do you?” I shook my head. “It was an invitation to call on him in his grotto. For both of us.” “That’s very gracious of him.” “Gracious?” Another laugh. “He never extends social invitations. He’s notorious for it. Not to mention the fact that usually our dinner parties here end with the Baron rolling off in a fury over something Carmelita or Brother Dominic has said. Ruined? There are possibilities here. Possibilities! If I can just…damnation!” He sat down on the bench, and held his head in his paws, gritting his teeth, as if trying to reach in and pull the piece of data he was looking for from inside his head. After a while, he sighed. “It is no use. I won’t be able to sleep tonight.” He looked up at me. “But I see no reason for you to suffer…Alatheia. No. Quite the contrary. You deserve to be rewarded for what you have done tonight. You have demonstrated that you are a young lady of rare talents and charm.” Hunh. Odd. What IS it? He called you Alatheia. Well, good heavens, it’s… …my first name, I know. But he hasn’t used it before. … Has he? How very…observant of you. Yes…yes, you’re quite right. I wonder what he’s got in mind. It’s hard to tell with those goggles, sometimes. Hmmm. He has very strong paws. You liked that? That hurt! A mere transitory fright. Excitement and all. He’s turning toward the organ. What’s he doing? Langford began to play a complex series of notes on the organ, which sounded throughout the mansion, echoing. He repeated the same notes twice more. He half-turned to me when he finished. “You summoned the entire staff to the Entrance Hall.” “It would appear that cervines are not the only furs who know codes. Yes, barring Beta and Omega. Excepting them, they shall all be present in a minute or so. Let us give them time…” He examined his gold wrist-watch, and after letting a short time pass, he stood up, and offered me his elbow. I took his arm. He did not object. It was a slow walk down the Long Gallery to the Entrance Hall. Lined up in four ranks were all of the staff… Slaves, you mean. …were all of the staff of the mansion, standing to attention. Langford let me go, and gently urged me forward, to a spot in front of them. I reached a spot in front of them, and turned to face their ranks. As one, they slowly sank to their knees and bowed their heads before me. Oh. My. God. What’s happening? I can’t be… “Langford…how flattering of you to request of them that they do this.” “I did not, Alatheia. They did it of their own accord. Fascinating.” I walked up and down the various ranks. So many different species… “They are all impressive, Langford.” “And for tonight, one of them is yours.” “Really?” “Really.” “Why Langford, how wonderful!” Wait, WHAT?! “The conditioning implanting expertise in the slaves took many forms, Alatheia. I foresaw that it was possible some house guests might have certain requests that needed to be…fulfilled. Accordingly, they are familiar with what you would expect. Japanese woodblock prints, the ancient Indian texts, Burton’s translation of The Perfumed Garden, and so forth. At least the younger furs.” You mean…ohhh, EWWWWW. What? He can’t possibly…he wouldn’t…you couldn’t… It is the height of impoliteness to refuse a host’s generous offer. EWWWWWW. No! Do not be so drearily Hartford on me. Hmmm. The mink from this afternoon, he has strong paws…hmmm, skunk? Perhaps. That roe deer over there, there are possibilities. Ah, I’ve never seen… EWWWWWWWWW. What? She’s a tigress! And your point is…? But…oh, no…I… I would have thought boarding school would have opened your eyes, but apparently not. Very well, I shall pass over the exotic for…hello… “Ah, yes. That is Number Sixty, Alatheia.” I trust you have no objection to mountain lions? Hunh? I… Yes, you clearly have no objections. But… What’s the old expression? Oh, yes. “Tawny and brawny.” How appropriate. “What gives him such a physique, Langford?” “Ah, he operates the fishing boat that supplies us with our seafood. In point of fact, it was he who brought you in when you crashed. We do train a few furs in rescues.” “Is he my reward, or am I his?” Uhhhh… “I suppose that would depend, would it not?” “Quite. How very generous of you, Langford.” “I will dismiss the others. Number Sixty!” The mountain turned his vacant gaze toward my benefactor. “The young lady…obey her.” He turned slowly to me, and then back to Langford. He nodded, slowly. “Thank you, Langford.” “Very well. I shall see you tomorrow…afternoon?” I had no answer to that, other than a smile. “Number Sixty, I am tired. Bring me to my room.” In a twinkling, a heavily muscled pair of arms and a large pair of paws scooped my feet off the floor, and I was tucked safely against a massive chest. “Slowly, Number Sixty. Slowly.” He took the stairs one at a time, like a good kitten. So the trip lasted quite some time. Even so, it ended far too soon. No matter. Omega (who had been napping on the bed, naughty thing) was startled by what came through the door, and she bolted behind a chair, peering out cautiously. “Number Sixty, stop. Place me carefully on the ground.” Light as a feather, I was put back on my footpads. “Your master let me have him for the night, Omega. Isn’t he delicious?” Omega whined a bit, and flattened her ears. “Now, don’t sulk. I won’t throw you out. Just make yourself comfortable…as for you, Number Sixty…stand at ease.” He stood at ease, his tail swishing to the Control Melody. There were all sorts of wonderful possibilities in store…and an entire morning ahead. And dear, considerate Langford. He’s playing such romantic music. Hardly necessary, but delightful all the same. I must remember to write him a note. I sat down on a chair in front of the dressing table. “Number Sixty, my footpads ache. Remove my shoes.” I stretched out my legs to make the job easier for him. He complied quite slowly, his paws almost covering my feet. Now, now, my dear. Take your time. There’s no reason to have your heart racing like that, even if Langford is playing such spirited music. Such insight he has… Oh, drat. I shan’t mess up the pretty Necklace. I can send everything else down to the beaver belowstairs, but Langford will be very cross with me if I damage his work. As well he should. There. A pity to shut it up in its box. How pretty it is, the way it catches the light and… …glows… … What is he playing? Ah. “Polovetsian Dances.” What’s going on… Shhh. But… Shhhh…! Look, this is scary, I don’t… This is a particularly fine recording. No distortion. What’s happening? Why can’t I see anything? Moderato alla breve, 2/2. And the b’ theme. This could only be the Gliding Dance of the Maidens. God, I need to pull out. This dive is way too fast. It’s pressing me against… Let go. Yes, I shall. No! Let GO. The Necklace. I will let myself go. No, I’m not going to let you. What the hell? Is that me? έκ-στασις No, I’m not going to let this happen! Drop it. DROP it. There it is. I can faintly hear it. Just a little. DROP IT. Ahhhhhh. --*-- I came to, banging against a solid object, which turned out to be Sixty’s chest. I had to heave to get some air in my lungs. That’s when I realized a few things. In order of recognition: Number one, the Necklace was on the floor. Intact and not glowing. Number two, my paw stung a bit from where I’d whacked it against the bedpost. Number three, Omega’s hackles were up, and she had a terrified look in her eyes. Number four, I’d pulled my dress half-off in whatever state I was in. Number five…holy smoke! I don’t think I’d seen anything like Sixty outside of a few nature magazines. Last but not least, some part of me was in pain inside. You little WRETCH! How could you?! Shaddap. How could you? I said shaddap. I have to do some thinking. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but whatever it was, it’s a damned good thing… You little WRETCH! I heard you the first time. And stop crying. But I was so close! I could FEEL it. Feel what? It! I don’t have time for vaudeville routines. What did you feel? How could you do this to me? Wonderful. Okeh. Slow the breathing down and think, Allie. Kick Sixty out on his tail? Ixnay. Could be viewed as an insult, and even if I got him out no problem, all it would take is an overriding order, and I’m back where I started. Has he got any programming that I wouldn’t like? Well, maybe not. Maybe the order Forrester gave paints that over. Hmmm. “Sixty.” The big cat stared straight ahead. Oh, oh. “Sixty. Go to the bed and lie down.” It was an awful long ten seconds, but I saw him climb on the bed, and lie face up. “Sixty. Sleep.” He folded his paws across his chest, and slowly shut his eyes. After a minute, I could see he was breathing deeply and regularly. Omega, for her part, refused to come out from behind the lounge chair. I guessed it was the Necklace, so I took the fountain pen from the desk, picked up the Necklace with it, and laid it in its velvet box. Small brass snap on it, but I don’t think even the vaults of the Hartford National would make me feel totally safe. I slipped off the rest of the gown. Boy, that was some fugue state, if you’ll pardon the expression. I tossed it into the bottom of the armoire, and flooped into the chaise. I thought about putting on a dressing gown, but the hell with it. I left on the stockings and underthings. Omega circled out from behind it, crawled in front of me, and put her paw on my knee. “I hear you, kiddo. Listen. Whatever is going to happen tonight, I don’t want to have happen to you as well. I don’t care what Forrester says what you did, however long ago, you’ve been good to me…” Omega briefly thumped her tail. “You can take off if you want to, or you can stay here. Might be two on one, and not in a good way, either. What do you say?” Omega’s response was to slide up into the chaise, and claim one half of it for herself. Except for her head, which she put against my chest. “Well, leave me some room, okeh?” There was a linked light-sphere near the chaise, so I could turn the lights down without disturbing Omega. Or going near Sixty. It wasn’t like the night before, where I’d dropped off without a care. A lot of flashback dreams, including the dormitory at my old boarding school. It was pretty vivid. Even some of the night-time sounds came through. “Mrrrgh. Stop fidgeting, Omega. Your elbow’s jabbing me.” Omega gave a quiet, drawn-out whimper, and then stopped. Just before dawn, there was a rumble of organ music. The bed gave a long creak, and Sixty stood, marched to the door, and left the room. That’s one time I was glad a mel didn’t leave behind a note. *****
Omega, being the former secret policefemme she was, probably could have told me the best hours to scare the hell out of somefur by knocking on the door. Whatever it was, the knock was sufficient to send my heart bouncing off my ribs. As it was, it turned out to be the Thirty-Fours, armed with an automatic towel, fresh motorized bed-sheets (hah!) and a four-edged breakfast menu. 8.30 on the dot. No note. All for the better, I wasn’t in the mood for correspondence. Wasn’t in the mood for much more than a cup of coffee and a hot shower. Alone and unattended. Given that I was nursing a pretty nasty hangover, both seemed like good ideas. Outside of the glossy head-fur, it wasn’t a terribly glamorous kitty that stared out at me from the mirror. It was going to be business this morning, all business. And the weather matched it, as there was rain beating against the window in a fierce drumming. Skirt suit today, Thirty-Four A. Ponytail, Thirty-Four B. And while you’re at it, a new length of black silk for Omega, she’s torn hers. No matter how hard I tried to, my heart kept syncing to the Control Melody. Each time I willed it, it slipped right back when I caught a breath. I went over and over what happened last night. It was Forrester’s reaction to my piano playing that puzzled me. Both when he was slack-jawed, and later why he wanted to know exactly how I felt during it. Why would he care? I was just another lab rat, to be sacrificed in the cause of Science. I had to admit, that story of his about the concert was pretty funny. I mean, think of a lot of High Society furs screaming over a concert of piano music. And they say young furs and jazz music are causing the collapse of Civilization. What the hell could drive a bunch of old furs (even some young furs, like I guess Forrester was, then) insane with joy? “Tiny fragment.” Hard to say if that was a compliment frontways, or back-pawed. Nope, heart still syncs. Can’t pick out the different strands, though. I could only do that really clearly last night. During my little concert. Odd. I wasn’t even focusing on the Control Melody, and it came to me, how Forrester set it up. Even trying now, really trying to pick it out, I could only get snatches of that interwoven thing. And DAMN, it made my hangover hurt. The bathroom did come stocked with aspirins, which I at least hoped were as advertised, and not some freaky thing cooked up by Brother Dominic. Focus, focus, focus. It’s what my instructor told me to do whenever you got in a jam with a stall. I’ve always hated, and been scared of, those blackouts in a dive, when the G-forces slam you against the seat, and your vision slims down to next to nothing, just one pinpoint, in which you have to focus your brain to get the necessary info. Focus, focus… … Damn. Damn! That’s it. Clever bastard. Where’s the damn pen…here it is. Let’s have a look. Yes. So that’s it. How many? Yes. Yes… So that’s it. It all makes perfect sense. Clever, clever bastard! Another knock on the door. It’s Number Four. And with the note. “Miss Hunter – [Oh, back to that, are we?] “If you are not otherwise occupied [HA!], I would deem it a great favour if you would call upon me in the Day Room. LDF” Well, Mr. Langford Forrester, of Forrester Labs, you’re about to find out that you aren’t the only game in town. And I don’t need any fancy gizmoes to keep me sharp. *****
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