Birth of Adam (Artificial Intelligence Book 2) (14 page)

Simon walked Amanda all the way across the street to her door.

“Thank you for clearing the stairs.” She knocked on the door for Andrew.

“Have you no key?”

“I do, but Andrew likes opening the door for me,” she explained. “He puts on this jacket and pretends he’s a butler.”

As if on cue, Andrew opened the door, looking very majestic in his maroon velvet jacket, and welcomed them in.

Amanda introduced Simon to Andrew and Sondra. Simon was gracious to both and complimented Martin’s progress at school.

Upon seeing Martin peeking out from the library, the instructor went to him, asking him how he was faring with his assignment. Martin pointed to the mass of books he had on the library desk.

“Ah, you’ve an unfair advantage, Martin. Don Carlos had one of the finest libraries in the world.”

“Should I not use them?” Martin asked with an expression of worry on his face.

“Of course you should use these treasures! Don Carlos is no doubt most pleased to look down and see such an impressive young scholar dusting off his books and putting them to work.”

Simon pulled up a chair beside Martin and studied his progress.

“Professor Simon, would you like a glass of wine?” Amanda asked.

“Indeed I would,” he replied. “And then I would like to hear the piece you composed today,” he added. “Pinchot declared it quite fine.”

Amanda returned with one glass of wine and a Coke for Martin. Martin seemed very pleased she had remembered him.

“Are you not having wine?” Simon asked.

She laughed. “Not if I’m going to play my composition.” She carried her creation to the piano and, after limbering her fingers and a moment of silence, she struck the chords hard and trembled the bass like deep, growling thunder.

Then the plunks of raindrops scattered about in the high register.

The violin part, she sang, to obtain the sorrow and continuance she required in the tone. She did not remain faithful to the written music. Instead she altered it to repair the flaws discovered in class, and was very pleased with her results. The moment she finished the song, she grabbed a pencil and wrote the changes before she forgot them.

“Don’t change a thing,” Simon insisted, and stole her pencil.

“I’m altering it to what I played,” she explained as she pulled her pencil away from him and continued writing.

He sat down beside her on the piano stool and oversaw her modifications. She had forgotten one, but he pointed out a part that was not what she had played. He reminded her how she had performed it, and she fixed that as well.

“Now play what you have written and let us see if you have it,” he insisted.

In her second playing, he insisted she had missed a change. She wasn’t certain she had performed the section other than how it was written, but she agreed Simon’s fix improved the music, and so she wrote it in.

On her third run through, he declared it perfection. “Now you will have wine with me?”

“Yes, but you should be warned I become quite senseless by my second glass.”

Martin smiled and nodded to Simon it was so.

“That is because you are drinking on an empty stomach. I will take you to dinner and then you will be safe enough.”

“That is very kind, but Sondra is cooking Andrew’s favorite dish tonight, and I wouldn’t think of making him miss it. But if you would like to have dinner here, you are most welcome.”

Simon accepted, and sat down and played Amanda’s composition so she could hear it without any distractions. By closing her eyes and listening, she found a few other items she wanted to tweak. Simon refused one of the changes but agreed upon the other two.

“This is my composition,” she reminded him.

“If you do not wish my advice...”

She stopped writing and tended to his wounded ego. “Of course I want your advice, and see? The change you did not like was not made.”

He studied her work and then played it again.

She had remained seated beside him with her eyes closed, and when he finished, she sighed with satisfaction. Suddenly lips pressed against hers, and she opened her eyes, shocked that her professor had kissed her.

“That was for writing such perfection,” he said. “Now copy this over. I could barely read it for all the rewrites.”

Leaving her at this tedious task, he turned his attention to Martin. The third time he declared Martin brilliant, she looked up in surprise. She had never received better than “an interesting concept” on her papers.

***

Simon was very happy Andrew and Sondra joined them for dinner, since he had a great deal of advice on where Martin should go to school and what subjects he should take.

Andrew and Sondra listened most attentively, and never complained the cost of such an education was beyond their means.

“I’ll see that Martin gets whatever he needs,” Adam assured her.

Adam, can you read my mind? she asked in her head.

When Adam didn’t reply, she concluded he couldn’t.

At the end of dinner, Simon thanked Sondra for cooking such a delicious meal and kissed both Andrew and Sondra on their cheeks. Martin received a pat on the head, and Amanda received two cheek-kisses and a kiss on the lips.

“Enjoy the opera tomorrow,” he advised as he left the house.

She wanted to ask how he knew about the opera, but he was already down the steps, so she closed the door and congratulated Martin on his three “brilliants”.

***

Early the next morning, dressed in a chic black dress with matching hat, Amanda came downstairs to find Monsieur Bastion reviewing her composition.

He glanced at her, then did a double take. “My dear, you look quite magnificent.”

Over breakfast, he grilled her on her composition. How long had she been working on it? How had she selected the instruments? What had inspired her?

When the clock chimed seven, she thought the interrogation was over, but as Andrew drove them to the French Opera House, he continued prodding her about the number and length of compositions she had written, how long she had been writing, and who had taught her.

She had almost forgotten her Russian teacher, and Adam had to feed her most of the answers.

Bastion then shocked her to the core.

“My dear, despite the beauty of your voice, I think you should concentrate on composition. Jules will no doubt disagree.”

“Can I not do both?”

“No,” he replied. “To reach your potential, you must focus.”

“Well, given I have a contract with Jules, for the present I guess my focus must remain on singing.”

His hands clenched with agitation. “I wish it were not allowed for students to sign an agent before they have finished their education. I understand in the case of Hammer. He needs a profession that pays. But you clearly do not. You should do what you do best.”

“And you think that is composing?”

“I think what you have composed in a few days is exceptionally fine.

“But it’s only four minutes long,” she reminded him.

“Which is why you need the time to focus solely on composition and determine whether your brilliance has the endurance to write an entire opera.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” she admitted.

“Exactly my point. Composing is far more challenging than singing, but your education, to date, has focused on vocals. I am amazed you were able to write even four minutes of perfection.”

***

With the interrogation behind her, Amanda enjoyed the opera more than ever. She now listened to the composition of the music, noticing details such as how the composer interweaved repeating strands throughout the three-hour opera; how he used the music to amplify the performance of the characters; and how he remained so faithful to the emotions that the words became almost irrelevant.

When the first act ended, Bastion asked what she thought.

“I think it’s the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard.”

“The tenor was strident in the first scene,” he growled.

“I’m sorry, I was focused on the music. The tenor was strident and behind the beat in his duet with Antoinette. Antoinette should sing more softly at the beginning of her cry to God. The orchestra was perfect, but she pushed too hard. The lighting...am I allowed to comment on the lighting?”

“Go ahead,” he replied with a smile.

“The lighting in the garden was so dark I couldn’t see which man was singing and so I pulled myself from the opera and began a
Where’s Waldo?
search for the singer.”

“Where’s Waldo?”

“It’s a crowded picture book that contains a character named Waldo, and he’s devilishly hard to find.”

“Ah!
Where’s Wally
. Anything else?”

“The lovers’ scene was perfect, and the ending of act one was very powerful, but it was so loud that it actually hurt my ears. My ears would prefer the higher-pitched instruments to pull back a bit.”

Bastion turned to look at someone seated in the row behind them and handed him his own notes. “Now you have two identical opinions as to what needs to be fixed in act one—except I had not commented on the lighting, but Miss Carrington is correct—I was searching for the singer in the dark.”

“That was my intention,” the man replied.

“If your intention is to rip the audience from the blissful soul of the music so you can confound them with trickery of lights, you have succeeded beautifully. I am certain they will not mind that half so much as your intention to permanently deafen those seated in the first fifty rows.”

The man skimmed through his notes. He then looked up at Amanda and introduced himself as Jacque du Clair. “I appreciate your comments, Miss Carrington, and while in general agreement with Bastion, your tone was more polite and the explanations more helpful. I hope you are planning to stay and critique the remaining two acts?”

Bastion answered before she could open her mouth. “Assuming you can finish this torment before five. Miss Carrington has a dinner engagement.”

“But you can stay longer?”

“No, I cannot, for I have the same dinner engagement!”

Jacque’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he gave Amanda another look. “Well, this is a surprise.”

“Either begin act two or we shall leave now,” Bastion warned him.

While the music remained strong throughout the next two acts, the performances were flawed, and a few of the singers lacked the skill to sing their parts.

When Bastion took him to task, Jacque agreed with his assessment. “I absolutely agree, but the fault lies in the composition. Such challenging pieces should not go to minor roles. There are very few singers who have the skill for these two arias, and those who do are all divas and would not consider doing them.”

“Nonsense, you simply haven’t tried.”

“You’ve no idea how hard I’ve tried. I’m sorry, Bastion, but the pieces must be cut from the opera.”

“You will not butcher this opera!” Bastion insisted. “If you are unable to acquire appropriate talent, then allow me to do so. I can find you voices capable and willing to sing those pieces.”

“We are two weeks from opening night!”

“Yes, you have been terribly slow in admitting you required help, but no matter—I will have you sufficiently skilled voices by Monday.”

“If you bring me two singers who can perform these pieces even tolerably well, I will gladly accept them. Otherwise, I am cutting them out, and that is final.”

“Agreed.”

Bastion led Amanda to the car. Once inside, he called Jules Bavard.

“Jacque du Clair is going to butcher Le Fromme unless I can provide him sufficiently skilled singers to sing the minor roles of Louis and Carmella... I do... I am... There is no acting required. The roles were written specifically to showcase skilled voices who lacked either the education or the talent to act... Two weeks... Anon and Amanda.”

Amanda could hear Jules’ voice screaming at the shortness of time.

“Well, we are all in agreement. I will prepare them this weekend, and Jacque will decide on Monday. While they will not have mastered the pieces by Monday, I have no doubt they will pass the hurdle, and I assure you they will be ready by the first performance.”

Bastion was evidently losing patience with Jules. “I have no interest in your publicity and marketing problems. Had I been aware Jacque had been unable to fill these roles, I would have suggested this earlier. Instead, I arrived today to listen to God-awful screeching and Jacque declaring he has no choice but to amputate the two most beautiful pieces of the opera. If you do not allow this, I will never forgive you, and never allow any musician who has signed with you to step foot in my school again.”

That threat evidently quieted Jules, because Amanda couldn’t hear his voice anymore.

“You may come on Monday, but not before. I do not want you interfering with training. I need every minute we have.”