NaNoWriMo Excerpt: Chapter Three (Pt 1)

Chapter Three

It was a serious challenge to extricate himself from bed that morning, but Isaac finally managed to escape the luxurious touch of Emily’s grasp. Still exuberant from last night’s performance, he fairly vibrated while taking a quick shower, and found himself humming happily as he threw on his best suit. He was still running awfully late for the corporate meeting when he exited his taxi downtown, but even his tardiness couldn’t dampen his good mood. The bounce in his step lost a bit of momentum, however, when he spotted a young man standing on the sidewalk in front of Thematic’s office, obviously waiting to talk to him.

The man marched up to him, hand extended. “Mr. Baum, if I could have a word with you—” the young man began.

Isaac tapped at his wrist. “I’m sorry, I’m very late for a meeting.”

“Please, Mr. Baum, at least let me introduce myself?”

Sighing, Isaac took the man’s hand. “Alright, fine. You are?”

“Ahmed Ghazali. I’m a musician and a composer, much like you. I was hoping I could get you to listen to a sample of my music?” He reached into a coat pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small music chip.

Isaac extricated his hand from the man’s grip and moved past him towards the building entrance. “Thank you, but I make it a rule to not accept unsolicited compositions from fans. If you send it to my publisher, I’m sure they’ll notify me if it’s worth a listen.” He tried his best to wave politely as he opened the door.

“Your work last night was derivative and predictable,” the young man said.

That gave Isaac pause. “I…excuse me? Were you an audience member?”

As if in answer, the young man spit on the sidewalk. “It was a waste of my time, but yes, I was there.”

Annoyed but intrigued, Isaac found himself pausing in the doorway. “You weren’t impressed by the event, I take it? It seemed like everyone else was quite smitten.”

Ghazali shrugged. “The sheep were impressed. And of course, the technology demonstration was interesting. It shows much promise. Unfortunately, none of that promise was realized during last night’s performance.”

That made Isaac angry. “So how did it fail to meet your expectations, exactly? What was it, in particular, that you found…derivative?”

Rather than answer the question, the young man asked, “Do you believe that sharing inevitably results in the loss of the unexpected?”

“Well, no, but—”

“But your performance relegated itself to the whims of mass preference.”

Isaac laughed. “That was actually the point. To give the audience an equal share in the creative process.”

Ghazali shook his head. “But a shared experience need not sink to the lowest common denominator. It need not wallow in mediocrity.”

Isaac didn’t appreciate the criticism. “I just gave the audience what they wanted,” he said. “From what I could tell, most of them left happy.”

The man shook his head. “You gave them what they think they wanted. But not what they needed, no? You gave them happiness, but happiness isn’t the only emotion in the human spectrum of experience. It’s just the easiest target.”

“So what would you have me do, young man? Give them what I want, regardless of their wishes? Isn’t that counter to everything Theme’s new Share technology stands for?”

Ghazali walked up to him and before Isaac could react, grabbed both his hands with his own. “Yes, it is! But how can there be culture without counterculture? Melody without harmony? And don’t we, as the authors of artistic works, owe it to our audience to deliver something contrary to their normal, mundane lives?” He grabbed Isaac’s wrist and pressed his music chip into his palm. “Listen to this. Then maybe you’ll understand my meaning.”

Isaac yanked his hands away from the man. “I’m not a revolutionary, sir. I’m a conductor and a composer. I write the kind of music I’d like to listen to, and music my fans seem to appreciate. I’m sorry if that disappoints you.”

“Without counterpoint there is no point—”

“Yes, yes,” Isaac said. “I heard all of your clever catch-phrases. But I’m not interested. If my music doesn’t appeal to you, please feel free to find another composer that will better suit your tastes. There are plenty, believe me.” Before Ahmed could say anything else, Isaac quickly let himself inside. Behind him Ghazali moved towards the door, but he stopped before actually entering.

Lou, the corporate security guard behind the desk, asked, “Is everything alright, Mr. Baum?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Isaac said. “Just an overzealous critic, trying to get me riled up over last night’s performance. And doing a good job, much to my chagrin.”

Through the glass door Isaac could see Ghazali saying something. He watched the man’s lips carefully. “Listen to my music!” he was saying. “Listen to the chip!”

Aggravated, Isaac dropped the chip to the floor and ground it under his heel. It made a delightful crunching noise as its innards shattered and popped. “I don’t think so,” he mouthed back to his detractor.

Rather than get angry at Isaac’s gesture, Ghazali simply smiled, waved, and walked off down the street. What a bizarre young man, Isaac thought. He would have pondered the situation further, but he was terribly late, so he ran for the elevator to get to his meeting.

When he exited the elevator, one of the secretaries was waiting for him. She was a slightly older woman with classic librarian spectacles perched on the tip of her nose. She peered over the top of them at Isaac, a look of faint disapproval on her face. “Mr. Baum! We’re running a bit late this morning, aren’t we?” she scolded gently. Then her face relaxed a bit. “Not to worry, you’re not the only one! It seems that last night’s performance was taxing for everyone, including the audience.”

Isaac’s implant whispered in his ear, reminding him of the secretary’s name. “Good morning, Margaret. Were you able to attend the show last night?”

Margaret smiled at him as she took his elbow and began escorting him towards the meeting room. “I’m not one for hobnobbing with New York’s finest, Mr. Baum. I leave that to the bigwigs down the hall. But from what I’ve heard, everyone found your performance to be a smashing success, no?”

Isaac opened his mouth to answer, but found himself still hung up on the words of the brash young critic outside the building. Was his performance last night an exercise in mediocrity? Did he allow the lowest common denominator to skew the product into safe, predictable territory? The question rankled him. Why was he letting a comment from a complete stranger bother him so much?

In response to Margaret’s question, Isaac managed, “It was a good first try, I think.”

Margaret glanced sidelong at him, puzzled. Clearly she expected a more ringing endorsement from him about the performance. But rather than press the issue, she just shrugged and issued him to a set of double-doors. “The rest of the board members are already inside,” she said. She patted him on the shoulder and left, her stocky low-heeled shoes thumping across the carpet in a steady, determined beat.

Isaac squared his shoulders, adjusted his tie, and took a deep breath. Then, so as not to disturb the meeting already in progress, he slowly opened one of the doors to the meeting room.

The scene that greeted him, however, was not that of an organized board meeting, but one of jubilant pandemonium. Men and women that usually kept themselves buttoned up in their dull gray suits and buttoned down in their haughty demeanor were instead chatting raucously with one another, their ties loosened and their shirt-sleeves rolled up. Champagne glasses filled with mimosas and Bloody Mary’s littered room’s table, and most of the people seemed to be partaking of the early morning beverages, toasting and patting each other on the back.

Just a few minutes ago, Isaac would have welcomed the celebration gladly. Now, however, he found himself not at all interested in commemorating last night’s performance. He was only halfway inside the room, and he did his best to sneak back out before anyone else noticed his presence.

No luck, however. “There’s the man of the hour!” Cedric boomed from across the room.

As one, the members of the board turned towards the doorway and erupted in cheering and clapping when they saw Isaac standing there. With a sheepish grin, Isaac let himself in, holding his hands above his head to quiet the applause. “Thank you,” he murmured, once the cheering died down enough for him to be heard. “You’re too kind.”

Cedric came around the table and placed an arm around Isaac’s shoulders. “As you can see, the quiet, contemplative mood we all suffered from immediately after your performance has lifted, and the celebration has begun in earnest. And well deserved, it is! Have you seen the paper today?”

When Isaac shook his head no, half a dozen board members immediately brandished copies of the day’s newspapers in front of him. As they did, Isaac’s implant whispered names to match the faces. He scowled, annoyed by the pestering. At the moment, he really didn’t care who these people were.

Begrudgingly, he accepted one of the newspapers being thrust at him and glanced at the front page. The lead article took up the entire first page. In huge, bold letters, the headline read: “A Theme For All Of Us.” Catchy, Isaac had to admit. Underneath the headline was a picture of Isaac standing on the stage, baton in hand. His back was to the camera, but his head was turned sideways to look towards the lovely Miss Barron, standing on stage next to him, head tilted back and mouth open wide, lips curled around the note she was singing that was so clear you could almost hear it just looking at the picture (In fact, Isaac realized that his implant was providing exactly that note to his ears as he stared at the picture. Again, he felt himself aggravated by the implant’s intrusion). The look on his face in the picture told the story of the night: Isaac looked completely enraptured by Emily’s voice. And as he recalled, fuzzily, he had been. Everyone had been.

In print on the newspaper before him, however, his expression looked rather silly to him. He quickly skimmed the article and found that it was full of the predictable flowery praise for the performance, as well as glowing kudos for the Thematic technology that facilitated the experience. It was puff piece, full of positive words, and nothing of real substance. Isaac returned the newspaper back to the Joe Schmoe that had handed it to him, his smile feeling stiff and forced. Luckily, no one else seemed to notice.

Cedric said a few more words to the members of the meeting, while Isaac stood next to him and tried to look appreciative. Cedric’s arm around his shoulders was making his neck chafe, and he longed to escape from the unwelcome embrace.

After what seemed like an interminable wait, Cedric released him and asked everyone to take their seats. Gratefully, Isaac fell into a chair at the end of the table farthest from Cedric’s at the head of the table. Feeling prickly and uncomfortable, Isaac fidgeted with his tie and pulled ineffectually at his collar, trying without success to gain some relief. Didn’t anyone else find the room to be too hot? Annoyed, he did his best to pay attention as Cedric brought the meeting to order.

He said, “While I’m still looking forward to speaking at our official product announcement press conference this afternoon, I have to say, following last night’s performance is going to be a challenge. Thanks a lot, Isaac!”

Everyone in the room chuckled politely, including Isaac. He had to agree that, whatever Cedric might have planned for the official announcement, it would pale in comparison to the buzz already created by last night’s concert. But the concert hadn’t been Isaac’s idea, it had been Cedric’s. If the man ended up stealing his own thunder, that wasn’t Isaac’s problem.

Cedric continued, “The good news is that, after all of the free publicity we’re getting in the papers, our fanboys will be breaking down the doors to get even a smidgeon more information out of us. And our marketing team have put together a video for me. It may not live up to the standard of Mr. Baum’s composition,” he said, tilting his head towards Isaac, “but I think it captures the spirit of our newest launch fairly well. Would you like to see it?”