This Ain’t The Planet of Sound #1
Varistor walked ahead, across the campus as Toggles followed.
“What’s your hurry?” He called up to her.
“We need to get to the music lab and make sure everything is ready to go Dum-dum,” She called back.
“What? Ready to go for tomorrow?” Toggles’s implication that she needed to relax came through clearly in his question.
“Yes, ready to go for tomorrow and I know what you’re thinking and I will start working on the problems you see in me exactly five minutes after you start working on the problems I see in you.”
“Fine,” Toggles sighed jogging a bit to walk beside her, “wallow in structured misery if you must.”
“Better than an ambivalent chaos.”
“How many times are we going to have this conversation,” Toggles asked with a groan.
“As many as we have to.”
“Oh, I was thinking hopefully forever,” he responded with an obvious giving of ground.
“Ah, that’s sweet, ya big palooka.”
They crossed the pristine campus toward the music building. The music building was larger than the other buildings due to housing both the music classrooms, performance rooms, and a large performance theater.
Approaching the building they could see that they were not the only ones that wanted to get inside. Spanning around the building was a very long line of girls, many of which humming and practicing singing, many of which were terrible at it.
“Woah, it’s like tryouts or something,” Toggles noticed.
The pair walked up to a mob of girls clogging the entrance. Toggles turned to a blonde, one with particularly big hair that was reading her phone and humming.
“Hey there, sister,” Toggles said to get her attention. She looked at him with a smile and some level of flirtation. Any amicability was spared on Varistor the moment the girl noticed her pale skin, blue hair, and black suit. Toggles suit matched, but Varisotr knew he had a way about him, his curly unkempt locks with beard and chest hair popping from his low collar added a hippy charm that outdid his imposing stature. That, or maybe he was the first young male this caged-teen-beast had seen in a while? “What’s going on here?” he asked.
“It’s the tryouts for The Canticum Dea,” She answered, “It’s like a singing competition they hold at the school every four years. Basically, they play a note and you try to match it. If you do, you are crowned The Canticum Dea, The Singing Queen… or something like that.”
“It means Singing Goddess,” Varistor added. The girl just looked at her.
With a wink, Toggles said, “Alright, that’s pretty cool. Thanks for the info. Seeing how we are not aspiring to be singing goddesses, mind if we slip by you?”
With an eye roll and shoulder turn, the girl granted the two access and they walked past.
Inside was a long hallway filled with girls. Each one had her own grumpy expression, probably due to being passed in line, but Toggles and Varistor moved through anyway making the customary apologies and salutations.
All the girls had the same outfit on. This was expected as it was a catholic girls school, but what our duo didn’t expect was that the girls themselves seemed the same. Not like clones or anything, there was just something about them. Different hair, different hair cuts, different skin tones, tones that all leaned to the fainter variety, but there was still something about them that was similar. Their stance? Their attitudes? The duo couldn’t place it, but they both quietly noticed it and left the observation unspoken.
Both were somewhat relieved at the sign they saw ahead telling them that the route to the theater was to the left and the line of aspiring single-note-hitters was going to the right. As they turned away from the girls they heard one call out to them, something about how they can’t go right to the stage and they have to wait in line like everybody else, but Toggles and Varistor didn’t stop. They locked arms and skipped down the hall, ignoring the girl and giggling all the way.
Just enough turns had stopped for them to think they got away from having to deal with the crowd before they were caught.
“Nobody is supposed to be back here. Can I help you?” They were stopped and called out by a woman, a grown woman looking to be a teacher or administrator. She wore a drab yellow skirt suit with a white dress shirt that accented her dark skin, easily the darkest they had seen on this campus so far.
Varistor froze, not knowing what to do in the situation. She felt like she’d been caught by a parent, but luckily Toggles took over, as he usually did.
“Yes,” He hopped right in, “we appear to be lost. We are looking for the stage. We are with the band and we just needed to have a look for, you know, …band things?”
Varistor instinctually closed her eyes in embarrassment and shook her head, but much to her amazement, the woman accepted the statement.
“Of course, yes, Ivan Rocket, right? We left instruction at the front desk to call me when you arrived.”
“Well, to be completely honest, we saw the line and skipped the desk,” Varistor said.
“Of course,” the woman said, “I probably would’ve done the same. I’m Dr. Hayhurst the Music Department Chair and Orchestra Director. You snuck around to find me and it turns out you did exactly that. How can I help you?”
“Great. We just wanted to see the stage,” Toggles asked.
“The stage at the moment is in use for the singing competition,” Dr. Hayhurst responded bringing a tinge of authority with it.
“Yeah, that thing sounds… rather one noted if you know what I mean?” Toggles ignored her auditory power move.
“Yes, I’m sure it’s odd, but in the world of classical music, the ability to effortlessly hit a note is a coveted one,” she said. Varistor knew that Toggles knew what he was doing. Playing on her interests. She loved that about him. He manipulated situations without even trying, by giving people what they wanted, and in her case, it was to be a smarty.
Dr. Hayhurst continued, ”Don’t get me wrong, classical is not all I like. I appreciate the creativity behind all types of music. Like in the case of rock n roll, it’s style and feeling before technical skill, at least sometimes. In the case of classical, it is technical first, then style and feel. But, I could go off all day.”
“Well, we just need to get an idea of the size and at least plan on getting out equipment in,” Toggles asked with pleading eyes.
“Yeah, our style and feelings take a lot of equipment,” Toggles said, stumbling halfway through the statement due to that weird man-confusion men get when a normal sentence could be construed as sexual, even though no one else took it that way.
“Well, okay, I can give you a section to get started in, but I warn you, our technical skill also takes a fair amount of equipment.” She tells Toggles with a friendly smirk.
Next on Of Eons and Stars: The Posse
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