I tell her there are, but that I do not know them, so she hums softly as I take another chorus. She has a lovely voice, and I say that tomorrow I will write down the words to some other numbers and let her practice them with me.
When the doctor hears we are going to the concert that evening, he says that he wishes to come along. We get to Albany in about five minutes, so fast that I see nothing in the journey once we have left the New York airport where the doc keeps his plane, and we enter the auditorium in perfect time. As we go in, I am very surprised to see everyone staring at me, since I have borrowed one of the doctor's suits for the occasion and look just like anyone else. And then everyone stands and begins cheering me until I am very embarrassed indeed. I look at Ann and the doctor. They are both smiling.
"You know now that you have become a celebrity," whispers Ann. "We didn't want to let you know right away, but the papers have been full of your story."
So I smile and bow to the crowd, which keeps on clapping. It is very pleasing.
Finally, however, the noise stops and the curtain raises. There on the stage are about thirty or forty musicians, and behind them is a large screen like in a moving picture house. Also there are a lot of electric cords in sight, and I cannot figure what they are for until I notice that each instrument is wired like an electric guitar.
When the conductor comes on, everybody claps a little more, and then he turns to the orchestra. What I hear after that is something I never expect to hear in my life. All those electric instruments begin to vibrate, and on the screen behind them all sorts of shapes and colors begin to flash and then disappear. This keeps up as long as the number lasts.
"You are now seeing music as well as hearing it," the doctor tells me.
"I never saw any like that before," I say. "All the music I've ever seen has been the regular dot variety; do the men play from those flashes?"
"Why no," the doc smiles. "Those symbols that you see are the result of the electric impulse as the musicians strike certain notes on their instruments. They are never the same, and to me they are vastly intriguing. Strictly, it was lousy."
"Oh," I say.