Deathless Tune: The Job

Freed from death, the conductor could compose and play for eternity, and he had until the end of time to search for his virtuoso successors. But he could not remain with the orchestra he had created. Claiming he wished to die by the seaside, he packed his possessions and departed.

He drove. He played on street corners, where even the strongest-hearted businessmen were wont to weep exquisitely. He was offered jobs. He was offered gigs. He drove. Always he looked for a young soul touched by his music, for some connection with his audience that went deeper than listening. He never found it.

At night he would play his ode, the cruelest piece he had ever written. The Devil had answered, so long ago, and the bargain meant pain. Life was pain. But life was also music.

One moonless midnight on the highway, the conductor pulled off into a city whose name he had not bothered to read. The city was asleep, but even so it was full of life. The conductor could hear it, breathing in the darkness like a lioness who last ate yesterday. There was something fascinating about the city. Something hungry. And so very, very alive...

***

The conductor set down his violin case. There was a man behind the desk in a bright tie and a blue shirt. "Can I help you?" he asked.

You played the flute in college.

"I'm sorry?"

Your mouth forms around the 'ou' sound in a way only a flautist's would.

"Oh, you're here for the opening, then?"

That's right.

"Funny way to start an interview, Mister ...?"

(The conductor hesitated.)
Krohn. Ian Krohn. (He presented his license.)

"Krohn. Strange but effective!" The brightly colored man smiled. "And a neat trick, too." He pressed a button on the intercom system. "Ms. Torres? A Mr. Krohn here to see you." He beamed at the conductor, impressed. "I only just met him, but I think he'll get the job."

**

The conductor appeared in the doorway to the stage, holding a box. Principal Torres, pulling back the curtain, waved. "Is that all you brought?"

I wished to take stock of the equipment you already have. There will be time to round out the selection.

"Fair enough." Ms. Torres hopped down lightly from the stage to meet the conductor at the front row of seats. "I hate to tell you now, but the music budget this year got cut pretty badly. We've got our cellos and violins sure enough, maybe an old tuneless flute in the back - can flutes go out of tune? --"

Almost everything does.

"-- And whatever you can scrounge up from second-hand stores and whatnot. I'll support you in your collecting and reimburse you where I can, but I'm afraid I can't make any guarantees." Ms. Torres winced. "Even in private schools the focus is turning to sports all over. I can't account for it."

It will be fine.

"Of course," Ms. Torres smiled, "once you play that violin at Back to School night and say you can teach anyone's children to do that!"

Not anyone, equally. I cannot teach talent.

"Well, they don't need to know that. Anyway, the money will come pouring in."

As long as there are instruments and students to play them.

"You're pretty devoted, aren't you? And you're incredibly talented. Why I bet you could play first violin anywhere you wanted." Ms. Torres looked at the conductor slowly, as if seeing him for the first time. "How did you come to want to teach here in --"

I go where music is needed most, Ms. Torres. (The conductor thought about smiling, then reconsidered.) There are plenty of brilliant violinists. There are not many brilliant teachers. I am only one... violinist.

My choice was -- (He looked down, but not at his feet.) -- clear.