Chapter 295: Music

Music has always been a matter of

Energy to me, a question of Fuel.

Sentimental people call it Inspiration, but

what they really mean is Fuel.

I have always needed Fuel.

I am a serious consumer.

On some nights I still believe that a car

with the gas needle empty can run

about fifty more miles if you have

the right music very loud on the radio.

Hunter S. Thompson

Music, one admitted to the soul,

becomes a sort of spirit,

and never dies.

Edward Bulwer Lytton

Music is the literature of the heart;

it commences where speech ends.

Alphonse de Lamartine

Music is the wine

that fills the cup of silence.

Robert Fripp

Music is an outburst of the soul.

Frederick Delius

Music is an agreeable harmony for

the honor of God and the permissible

delights of the soul.

Johann Sebastian Bach

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There was a song she used to hear. It was soft, solemn, almost a tingling vibration to the soul. It feels good to the ear; truly, it is a currency of the sound aptly named decibels. But this sound is not just an ordinary sound of a common legal tender. It is not erratic or disorderly, but full of rhythm and melody.

It is music to the truest sense of the word.

She can hear it well, although the volume was minimal. However, even though the notes are clear and the music slowly graduates to become a song, she could not hear the very essence of the source of its transmission. It extremely bothers her not knowing what the song was, but, surely, it was loud enough to catch her attention.

"It is probably the veil. The knowledge of science was hindering the message of the art to push through your creative understanding."

It was that voice again, replying. Even though she wasn't fully aware what art and literature feels like or looks like, she was slowly making progress in gaining consciousness of the music of the universe.

"You have to be very careful," the distinct voice spoke again. "The Scientific Council should not know about this access you have made with this particular veil. You must remain focused and keep the secret by all means."

She became more confused.

"I still do not understand what I needed to hear or see or feel. This whole thing about the arts is making me anxious altogether. I sense both danger and fear carelessly intertwined curiously inside my head. It feels almost like physical torture! It affects my cardiac functioning."

There was a faint wind that blew through her blonde hair. The voice made a reply: "The Reader will eventually find you. And then you will find your missing Magical Twig."

"A Magical Twig?"

The voice laughed wanly. "There is no time to explain for now. You are coming home."

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The Chapter is sponsored by Omega.