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Man-Music.story
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Man-Music.story
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Text File
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1992-09-02
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6KB
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121 lines
THE MAN WHO COULD MAKE MUSIC......
by Eddy Morrison
It was on the Tuesday when he realised that others could hear it too. He had
lived with it since the previous Friday but it hadn't apparently bothered
anybody else. It had kept getting a bit louder and then softer and it didn't
really bother him but today seem'd different. Others could hear it now.
"No transistor radios inside the store" said the bored assistant, as the
music drifted from Anthony's head into her unresponsive,unmiscal ears.
"What???" said Anthony,alarmed that his secret was out. "Radios?"
"The music. You'll have to turn it off.We don't allow radios or whatever in
the store"she stressed.The music was quite loud now and other shoppers were
turning to stare at him.
"Sorry" he muttered "it's a tape,I can't turn it off." He slapped the bulky
wallet inside his jacket by way of apology and fled the store.
In the street, against the roar of the traffic, the steam of discordant
sound issuing stereophonically from Anthony's ears dulled into the
background. he quite liked the music - apparently others din't share his
offbeat tastes. He knew it. It was highly unnatural anyway, having your head
play tunes all the time, even if you liked them. He would have to go see old
Doctor Wilkinson.
"Hello Anthony. Come in, come in." urged his doctor. :Now,what's the trouble
this..." Dr.Wilkinson broke off as a sudden blast of what sounded much like
trumpets followed by some rather odd notes on a presumed guitar, splintered
the quietude of the surgery.
"Really Anthony. You know you shouldn't bring a radio in here" said
Dr.Wilkinson above the din. The musicwent quiter and a light flowing melody
filled the small consulting room.
"Hmmm?" mumbled Anthony, carried away by the lovely new sounds. "Oh -yes!
This! The music? That's what I've come about"
"Nothing medically wrong then? You've just come to play me some music?"
"Yes,I suppose I have" smiled Anthony.
"Now look Anthony. I've been treating you a long time. You've always had
your little problems." Dr.Wilkinson thought of the long chats with Anthony's
parents in the early days; about his simple-mindedness, "and we've always
got along well haven't we? You've always took my advice - right?"
"Sure, Dr.Wilkinson, always. That's why I've come this time. The music isn't
from a radio. It's coming from inside my head." Anthony explained simply for
it seemed simple to him. The world was a pretty simple place really when you
looked at it through Anthony's eyes.
"From inside your head?" echoed Dr.Wilkinson in a matter-of-fact; couldn't
care-less, where-the-hell-was-he-hiding-the-radio? sort of voice.
"Look,"said Anthony,still simply. "I'll show you."Anthony hit himself
upon the head, quite violently and the music crescendoed. The sheer impact
of it bounced off the surgery walls. The tropical fish in the tank that
Dr.Wilkinson liked to feel relaxed patients therapeutically, all dropped
dead simultaneously. Amen. That was Anthony's overture. Worse (or better,
depending on your decibal rating and wether you liked bad music) was to
follow.
The fish-tank shattered, cascading it;s contents to the floor.
Dr.Wilkinson's thermometer's mercury boiled up momentarily, blasted the top
off his instrument and ruined his suit. Suit? So did other little phenomena,
too numerous to mention.
At the end of it all, Dr.Wilkinson was equally convinced of two very
explicit things:-
a) He was stark raving mad and/or
b) Anthony really could produce music from his head.
Dr.Wilkinson was fundamentally aginst the above clause (a) for at the very
best it called his sanity into doubt and so rather beleaguerdly he had to
plump for clause (b). Anthony really could produce music form his head.
That's when the other doctors took over - but they weren't doctors of
medicine. Not the majority anyway.
Dr.Wilkinson's initial telephone call to an old friend who knew about 'these
things' cost Anthony first of all to be interviewed in depth by this 'old
friend'. Anthony demonstrated his musical abilities. The 'old friend's' pet
tortoise (which happened to be called Alphonse) went into a very early
hiberantion from which it never emerged.
The by now bewildered 'old friend' passed Anthony still further up the
scientific chain. gate after academic gate opened before his melodious
cranium, until Anthony stood loud and clear head at the peak of scientific
brinkmanship - the most interesting guinea-pig the World Science Academy had
ever managed to capture in it's hygenically clad hands.
Anthony went through all the tests. test after test. Tests to innumerable to
mention. In the end THEY came to a conclusion. Anthony's brain and skull
cavity were a crossroads; a reception area for thousands of radio and TV
waves that produced all sorts pf discordant sounds. A physical and mental
abberation. A simple-minded fool who had become that chance in a
thousand-million - a human receptor and transmittor.
They cured him easily. A short operation by a couple of the world's leading
neuro-brain surgeons. Various bits of metal now reside inside his head and
he receives a brief mention in the 'Wolrd Compendium of Curious Facts.'
The academics have all returned to their respective posts; a scientific
puzzle neatly wrapped up and they have almost forgotten Anthony, confident
that his music had ceased forever.
Anthony walks the streets, simple and happy as ever. They've stopped the
music of course, but just now and again, in the middle of the park maybe,
near midnight, he gazes up in the direction of the constellation Taurus and
smiles knowingly. He gazes at one particluar star about which revolves,
unknown for the moment by the Earth's astronomers, which beams it's lovely
music all over the Cosmos. A message of harmony to that Cosmos - and here
and there another world picks it up - or an individual, like Anthony. Some
nights he smiles up towards that particular star with even more
gratification - that's when the beautiful music has manged to sneak through
again - into Anthony's head....