Sea of Tranquility(37)
GR: For spare change?
AS: For pleasure. I don’t need the money, to be clear.
GR: But you do collect change, in that hat at your feet…
AS: Well, people were throwing change at me, so I did at one point decide to just turn my hat upside down in front of me, so that all the change would at least land in one place.
GR: May I ask, why do you do it, if you don’t need the money?
AS: Well, because I love it, son. I love playing the violin, and I love seeing people.
GR: I’d like to play a short clip for you, if I may.
AS: Of music?
GR: Music with some ambient noises. I’ll play it, and then I’m going to ask you to tell me anything you can about it. That sound all right?
AS: Sure. Go ahead.
[…]
GR: That was you, right?
AS: Yes, that’s me in the airship terminal. Poor-quality recording, though.
GR: How can you be sure it’s you?
AS: How can I…really? Well, son, because I know the music and I heard an airship. That whoosh just at the end.
GR: Let’s focus on the music for a moment. That piece you were playing, can you tell me about it?
AS: My lullaby. I composed it, but I never gave it a title. It was something I made up for my wife, my late wife.
GR: Your late…I’m sorry.
AS: Thank you.
GR: Is there—did you ever record yourself playing it, or write down the score?
AS: Neither. Why?
GR: Well, as I mentioned, I’m an assistant to a music historian. I’ve been tasked with investigating similarities and differences between the music played at airship terminals in various regions on Earth.
AS: And your affiliation, what institution was that, again?
GR: University of British Columbia.
AS: That where your accent’s from?
GR: My accent?
AS: It just shifted. I have an ear for accents.
GR: Oh. I’m from Colony Two.
AS: Interesting. My wife was from Colony One, but I wouldn’t say she sounded anything like you. How long have you been doing this?
GR: Assisting in investigations? A few years.
AS: You go to school for that? How does a person get into that line of work?
GR: Fair question. I was spinning my wheels, if we’re being honest here. I had a job in hotel security. It was fine. I just stood around a hotel lobby, staring at people. But then, well, I saw an opportunity. Something came up that really interested me, in a way I’d never been interested in anything. I spent five years in training, studying linguistics and psychology and history.
AS: I understand the history part, but why psychology and linguistics?
GR: Well, linguistics because people speak differently, at different points in history, and if you’re dealing with old music that has a spoken-word element, it’s helpful.
AS: Makes sense. And psychology?
GR: Personal interest. It wasn’t relevant. It wasn’t relevant at all. I don’t know why I mentioned it.
AS: Methinks the lady doth protest too much.
GR: Wait, did you just call me a lady?
AS: That was Shakespeare, son. Come on, now. Didn’t you go to school?
11
“Smooth,” Zoey said, when she reviewed the recording. “Real sophisticate there.”
Ephrem, who was sitting with us in her office, suppressed a smile.
“I know,” I said. “Sorry.”
“No, look,” my sister said, “we didn’t cover Shakespeare in your training.”
“Zoey,” I said, “Ephrem, what would happen, just theoretically, if I messed up?”
“Don’t mess up.” Ephrem glanced at his device. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I have a meeting with my boss, but I’ll see you in my office in an hour.” He left us then, and I was alone with my sister.
“What were your impressions of the violinist?” Zoey asked.
“He was in his eighties,” I said, “maybe even nineties. He had a slow way of talking, like his accent kind of dragged everything out. He’d done that thing to his eyes, that color-change thing? His eyes were this strange shade of purple. Violet, I guess.”
“Probably all the rage in his youth.”
She looked back at the transcript, rereading something. I rose and went to the window. It was night, and the dome had gone clear. Earth was rising on the horizon, a vision in green and blue.
“Zoey,” I said, “can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
I turned back to her, and she looked up from the transcript.
“Do you remember Talia Anderson from the Night City?” I asked.
“No. No, I don’t think so.”
“She was in my grade for a while in elementary school. Her family lived in the Olive Llewellyn house, and then I ran into her again when she hired me for that hotel security job.”
“Wait,” Zoey said, “are we talking about Natalia Anderson at the Grand Luna Hotel?”
“Yes.”
Zoey nodded. “She was on the list of people we interviewed when you were being cleared for this position.”
“How do you remember a name on a list from five years ago?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just do.”