THE MUSIC MASTER
By F. L. Wallace
Robots could play an instrument, but they
could not write music—and Danny wanted to do
both—even if it meant facing the psych squad!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
December 1952
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
After the performers filed off stage the audience chattered politely and drifted toward the exits. Danny Tocar looked up at his mother, and, on impulse, detached his hand from hers and lingered behind. As long as she was busy culturizing he wouldn't be missed. When the auditorium was empty Danny made his way to the stage and stood among the instruments. He stroked a violin, dark and shining. It was very heavy, as if it were solid. It was solid. He touched the metallic ridges on it. Funny. When he had sat in the audience those ridges had looked like strings and had given out a pleasant sound. It made no sound for him though, even when he drew the bow across it as the musician had done.
It was the same with the drum when he pounded it. It too was silent. He frowned and tried the trumpet. He lifted the instrument to his lips and puffed his cheeks and blew. Nothing happened at all. He examined it intently and then sadly laid it down. It was fake. All the instruments were toys, imitations of something that had once been real.
The music had not been phony, though. He visualized the performance, a harmony of motions as well as sound: bowing, plucking, striking, blowing. Where had the music come from if not from the instruments? He still remembered the synthony.