Symphony in E# (Ripples in Space, Part 3 of 4)

He burst into the warehouse. “Anthony, let’s get this over with. Where’s the box?” But the place was empty. His voice echoed in the dusty corners. Passion Bloom followed behind with interest.

“What’s this all about?” she asked.

He looked about. Their voices still seemed to vibrate in the huge space. Everything was so still. Expectant. This was the right time in the right place. “We should go to my office.” She took his hand and he led her up the catwalk.

They clattered up the stairs and across the catwalk to Mint’s office that looked over the huge warehouse. Since he had arrived he had been trying to recreate the tone which had sent him into this strange dimension, without success. But the hardware and software he developed had applications from the music industry to medicine to the military and he had done quite well on this world.

He burst through the door and looked around the empty office. “Where is Anthony?”

She looked out the window to the warehouse floor far below. “This place is quite impressive. It gives a person vertigo.”

“I have been here quite a while. Have a seat.” he answered.

“Where do you come from?” she asked, sitting in a black leather armchair.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“I am trying to understand the mind of Walter Mint. The man who wrote Symphony in E#.”

“Symphony in E# is not really in E#, you understand. E# is a relative tone. It’s like a color. Depending on what color you put next to it, it will look different to the human eye each time. The same with sound. I explore tones and scales. An even scale is dissonant to the human ear. The human ear needs ripples. The human ear, like the Universe, needs to be primed so it can hear.”

“So it is merely aesthetics. Construction.”

“It has to do with the structure of the universe,” he argued. “People think the universe is smooth and even. It isn’t. The fabric of space/time is wrinkled…” He moved towards her. She watched him with fascination. “Woven, and not every thread is the same…textured like my tweed suit.” She touched his forearm with interest. “The human mind finds too much order… order without variation… dissonant. This is instinctive. Because order of a certain type, a certain tone, could destroy your universe.”

Anthony burst into the office, a small box under his arm. “I’m sorry, Boss. I was, uh, indisposed. But I didn’t let the box outta my sight, just likes you woulda wanted.” Anthony put the box down on Mint’s desk. “And the washroom needs paper.”

Walter and Anthony looked at the box, just about the size of a small arms case, with dark carved wood and gold leaf work. There was an uncomfortable pause and they both turned and looked to Passion Bloom at the far end of the room, seated in the black leather arm chair.

“You wants me to do something wit da dame, Boss?”

To be continued…