CHAPTER XXIV. THE PICTURE TELEGRAPH.
“Let us step into the music room,” said Thorwald. “Doctor, what acquaintance have you with the telephone?”
“We think we have brought the telephone to a considerable degree of perfection,” said the doctor. “At first it was rather crude, and many preferred to forego its use in order to escape its annoyances. But of recent years great improvements have been made, until its employment is now a pleasure, as well as an essential help in our business and social life.”
“Does it minister to any other sense than the hearing?”
“It does not, although I have seen a vague promise somewhere of an invention by which we could see an image of the person we were speaking to.”
“If that is all, I shall be able to give you a pleasant surprise,” pursued Thorwald. “Just sit in those chairs, and do nothing but keep your eyes open and listen.”
We saw him arrange a series of long panels, in which were elegant mirrors, and then, as he gently pulled an ivory knob, there fell upon our ears, very faintly, like distant echoes, strains of the most delicious music. Gradually the tones became louder and more defined, and Zenith, with a quick smile and glance, directed our attention to the opposite side of the room. There our wondering eyes beheld the orchestra with whose notes we were then enchanted. There must have been a hundred players or more, and we seemed to be looking upon them from a distance which would bring the whole group within the bounds of the room. It was not a picture thrown on a screen, but was as if the musicians were actually present. Every motion made with their instruments was in exact accord with the accompanying note, and, wherever this orchestra might have its local habitation, it was certainly playing before our little audience that morning.
As the selection ended the scene faded away under the manipulation of Thorwald, and in a moment the room was filled with a harmony of voices such as I had never heard on the earth. And now the great chorus appeared, crowding this time three sides of the apartment and rising, tier on tier, to the ceiling. We could see the glad faces of the singers and knew how they must be enjoying their work. Brilliant solo parts burst out from one side and the other, and again from the middle throng, but it was impossible to tell from what individual singers these notes came.