Symphony in E# (The Tuner, Part 1 of 4)

Walter Mint had fallen through a crack in reality. He had come from the Land of E#.

In our Universe E# does not exist. String theory tells us that the space between E and F is so tiny it is impossible to jam an extra note. In theory, this mythical note is dangerous, extremely sharp and deadly. If a tuning fork were ever invented that could resonate at such a note, it would cut a gaping hole in the fabric of space and time.

And Walter was desperate, and willing to do anything, to get home.

The tuner cowered behind the piano. Tuning forks impacted the piano, and flew past and rained down upon him. All Es and Fs. Hundreds. And then they stopped.

“This is madness!” Mint cried.

The tuner looked up from behind the piano. Mint had collapsed on the floor. There was something “not human” about him, something too frantic, something missing or extra the tuner couldn’t quite see. Mint looked up.

“Get out,” he cried. “Just get the hell out.” The tuner collected his tools and left.

“Doe ray me. 2, 2, 1. Ray me far. Ray me far. 2, 1, 2… 2, 1, 2… Aaargh!” He clutched his head. “I can’t hear it. Insanity. Who designed the human ear? How can the universe be so twisted?”

Walter Mint was CEO of Sounds Universal Incorporated. He manufactured exotic sound.

His cell phone rang. Chromatic scale. Key of F. He listened intently. Then he screamed “How can Doe and Tea be the same note?

“Hello. Walter Mint. How may I help you?”

“Hey, Boss. We gots da piece of equipment you axed us for. It just arrived at da warehouse.”

“Really?” Mint said, eyes stained with tears. “How nice. And the inscription?”

“Just likes you said, Boss. ‘If you wants ta solve da riddle/ You must start in da middle.’”

“Yes that’s it. I thought it was lost. I’ll be right over.”

*
Systematically he closed down all the systems in the studio. He doubted he would be back. He doubted if anything would remain, and he wanted to leave everything perfect. He set the alarm. He would not see this world, no matter how insane, go out in a shambles.

He opened the door and came face to face with a woman.

“Are you Walter Mint?”

“Yes, I am.” Walter was a short man and had not entirely come to terms with his own physical nature. She was taller than him, dark hair pulled tight. She could have been a dancer, he thought momentarily. Or a musician. He was suddenly… uncomfortable. “How may I help you?”

She seemed excited. “My name is Passion Bloom. I’m very happy to meet you?”

So she was a groupie, thought Mint. He had always wondered what one must be like. His heart raced.

“Thank you. I am terribly sorry. I am in a bit of a hurry.”

“This is about your Symphony in E#.”

Walter stopped. “I see,” he said. He disarmed the alarm. “Come in then.”

To Be Continued…