The Stolen Symphony

The Stolen Symphony

2162 A.D.

         Benjamin Grey's curved fingers poised themselves over the ivory keys of his Yamaha silent piano while his stare transfixed on the tattered sheet in front of him. Ben lowered his fingers to the keys, but the room remained silent, as if his hands were apprehensive about the keys on which they should delicately pound.
         Suddenly, as if he were shocked with electricity, he began playing the notes so messily written on the sheet of music set on top of the music stand. The notes seemed out of place in the electronic music age of the year 2162. Traditional piano sounds were not even heard outside of the ramshackle symphony halls built so long ago.
         The cadence of the notes sounded vaguely familiar to Ben. He dismissed it, thinking that pieces of classical music throughout the ages were bound to have repeated motifs and melodies. The young pianist played on, adding his own embellishments and variations to the rough notes on the sheet.

Five hours earlier, in the year 1815 A.D.

         
         Benjamin Grey carefully extracted a page from a stack of papers sitting on the piano of one of the greatest composers that ever lived. He stayed on the metal platform extending from the Time Pod, but thankfully, it extended just enough so that he could take the page.
         Just once, Ben thought, just once let me break the rules. It won't matter. He'll probably throw that old scrap of sheet music out anyway. There is no significance to this sheet.
         Ben reasoned with himself safely behind the invisibility shield of the time machine for about three minutes. When Ludwig van Beethoven, in the middle of one of his raucous outbursts, turned his back on his piano, Ben reached out, exposing himself dangerously to the atmosphere of 1815, and quickly and carefully grasped the page sticking farthest out from the pile. He brought his hand back within the invisibility shield just in time, for as soon as his hand was safely concealed, Beethoven whipped around and forcefully strode over to the piano and dashed the stack of sheet music to the floor.
         Ben desperately wished the laws of time travel were not so strict. He would have loved to have a conversation with his idol, a man who gradually lost his hearing and was still able to produce such beautiful music. Maybe if he could just talk to Beethoven, things would be different in his own time; in 2162 where people did not care for instruments made of wood and heart and soul, maybe speaking to Beethoven about his music could change the course of music history. Ben was not exactly sure how that would be, but maybe it would be different.
         However, he had already broken one rule today, one of the three main rules for travelling into the past: Do not touch or take anything from the past, no matter how recent or long ago. He would do well not to break the other two: Do not interact with the people of the past and Keep all body parts within the invisibility shield and do not venture from the metal platform. Although, he really had broken the third rule as well. Though his first two violations were probably insignificant, Ben did not want to get in trouble for speaking with Beethoven and perhaps rewriting history, even if it was for the benefit of music later.
         The Time Pod's notification device started to beep. It was time to go.
The young pianist sighed as he slowly walked backward on the metal platform toward the entrance of the Time Pod. Giving one last look at the unkempt apartment of Ludwig van Beethoven, Ben entered the Time Pod. It's silly to feel this way, he thought, I can come back in a couple of months. I probably shouldn't have used up all my Datesims, but I just have to wait a few more months until next year. Ben tapped the glowing blue button that would take him back to his own time period, and the Time Pod seemed to dissolve into the air.

2162 A.D.

         As his molecules rearranged themselves in the proper order, Ben carefully folded the stolen sheet of music and tucked it under his reappearing shirt. He exited the Time Pod and went over to the Time Keepers that discharge the Time Pods. In his metropolis, Tridelphi, there were five hundred Time Pods for public use at any given time. It looked like everyone in the city had either taken a trip today or was going to. No wonder they had cut his trip to 1815 short.
         Ben got in the long line to exit. He would have to give up his last Datesim for the year. It was August, so he would have to wait four months to get his annual allotment of four Datesims. The line was so long that Benjamin had to wait for an hour and a half to check out.
         He quickly exited the Tridelphi Time Terminal and boarded the hoverway to get home. The train ride only took eighteen minutes. As he walked from the stop to his apartment, Ben kept feeling his shirt to make sure the sheet was still there.
         As a professional musician, Benjamin Grey lived humbly in a studio apartment in an old part of town. He was proud though, being old-fashioned as he was, he had read about the bohemian lifestyle of artists in the 1800s and fancied he struggled like them.
         The door creaked open after archaically unlocking it with a metal key and Ben walked across the worn wooden floors toward the silent piano near his bed. He placed Beethoven's sheet on the piano music stand and sat down on the glossy black bench.
         His curved fingers poised themselves over the ivory keys of his Yamaha silent piano while his stare transfixed on the tattered sheet in front of him. Ben lowered his fingers to the keys, but the room remained silent, as if his hands were apprehensive about the keys on which they should delicately pound.
         Suddenly, as if he were shocked with electricity, he began playing the notes so messily written on the sheet of music set on top of the music stand. The notes seemed out of place in the electronic music age of the year 2162. Traditional piano sounds were not even heard outside of the ramshackle symphony halls built so long ago.
         The cadence of the notes sounded vaguely familiar to Ben. He dismissed it, thinking that pieces of classical music throughout the ages were bound to have repeated motifs and melodies. The young pianist played on, adding his own embellishments and variations to the rough notes on the sheet.
         He continued playing on, embellishing and recapitulating and modifying late into the night, until his hands ached and he had written several pages of music based off the stolen sheet. Fearing that the Time Keepers would somehow find out what he did, Ben hid Beethoven's sheet under his mattress and then went to sleep. He was due early for rehearsal tomorrow with the Tridelphi Philharmonic Orchestra. They were playing Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, and they had chosen the version that had a special piano solo. He was nervous and confident at the same time. He never practiced the night before a performance, it was his own superstition.
         The next day, Ben entered the John Cage Symphony Hall at 9:45 in the morning. Rehearsal started at 10:30, but he liked to arrive early to get in the mood for a performance. He wanted to do justice to Beethoven's Ninth, especially after seeing the composer in person yesterday. He made his way to the shelled stage and sat down at the Steinway & Sons concert grand piano. The sheet music had already been laid out. He picked up the papers and was puzzled to see Symphony No. 5, Op. 67. instead of the ninth symphony.
         Benjamin promptly got up from the piano bench and made his way to the lobby of the concert hall and grabbed a program off the top of the stack near the doors.

Tridelphi Philharmonic Orchestra

Presents

Ludwig van Beethoven's Final Symphony

Symphony No. 8in F major, op. 93

"The Little Symphony in F major"

Benjamin was alarmed at the phrase, "Beethoven's Final Symphony". If any of his works was known, Beethoven's Ninth Symphony was certainly best known, and it was the final symphony, not the eighth. This can't be right, he thought, there's just been a mistake. I'll check with the music librarian for the music for the Ninth and we'll just switch them out.
         Benjamin took the creaky elevator down to the basement of the concert hall where the music library was located. There he found the jovial elderly man that helped the orchestra find music to play to its loyal patrons. Grant Gelder smiled when he saw Ben's face.
         "How's the only fine pianist left on earth? Keeping those gifted hands safe?" he warmly greeted Ben.
         "You know that's not true Gelder. Derek Hoffmann's still alive and well," Ben replied, nodding graciously at the compliment from the former maestro.
         "Yeah, but he's got nothin' on you Benjamin. The piano was made for your hands. What can I do for you now? Rehearsal starts soon."
         "I know Gelder, but weren't we supposed to be playing Beethoven's Ninth Symphony? The Eighth's been placed on the stands. Someone's made a huge mistake. It's on the programs too," Ben relayed to the librarian.
         "Son, you went to the Amadeus Academy of Music and you have a doctorate in piano performance. I expect you to know the classical music world from Bach to Glass, and here you are talking about a ninth symphony of Beethoven's. Have you lost your mind?" Gelder inquired.
         Ben was floored by this information. No ninth symphony? The theme of the ninth symphony resounded in his head as he thought about what could have happened to it. It wasn't that Gelder had said that it wasn't available, but that it did not exist.
         "Are you sure, Gelder? I think Beethoven had one final symphony. Ode to Joy, remember?" Ben hopefully questioned the elderly man.
         "Son, Beethoven has always had eight symphonies for the last three-hundred-fifty years. In fact, the performance tonight is to celebrate the anniversary of the final symphony. I have no idea where you got this idea for a ninth symphony all of a sudden, but the orchestra is playing his final eighth symphony tonight. Rehearsal starts in fifteen minutes." Gelder sounded incredulous at Ben's assertion of a ninth symphony.
         Ben knew he could not miss rehearsal, so he bid Gelder good day and proceeded back up to the concert hall. Many of the musicians were already there, setting up their instruments and going over sections of Beethoven's Eighth. At least it sounds the same, Ben thought. He decided to ask the concertmaster about Beethoven's Ninth; Gelder was getting up in age and could be forgetful.
         Victor Perdon was the concertmaster for the Tridelphi Philharmonic and one of the wisest musicians Benjamin knew. Ben approached Victor quietly and tapped him on the shoulder.
         "Hello Victor. How are you today?" Ben greeted the man.
         "Hey Benj, I'm great. Excited for the 350th anniversary of the old man's final symphony?" Victor shared Benjamin's admiration for the great Ludwig van Beethoven.
         "About that. I thought there was a Ninth Symphony of Beethoven's. What happened to it?" Ben anticipated a response that would indicate he wasn't going crazy.
         "I don't know what you're talking about Benj. Beethoven only had eight symphonies," Victor replied.
         "No!" Ben was starting to panic. "The main theme sounds like this!" He ran over to the piano and started pounding out the theme from Ode to Joy.
         "I've never heard that Benj. Clever motif though. Maybe you could compose something with it. It'd be nice to have an original composition that didn't use synths or electronica."
         Ben slumped on the piano bench in despair. This is not happening. This can't be my fault. All I did was take one measly scrap of paper off the piano. It's not me.
         After rehearsal, Ben raced home as fast as he could. He took the stolen sheet music from under his mattress and placed it back on the piano stand. He knew it had sounded familiar, but he had dismissed it. Fortunately, Ben had practiced the Ninth so much that it seemed engraved in his memory. From the notes on the sheet, he added what would have been his solo and saw that it fit. This sheet must have been part of the beginnings of Beethoven's idea for his Ninth and final symphony.
         What was he going to do? The Ninth Symphony was gone, and it had influenced so many other composers. That must mean that classical music would have taken a different course!
         I have to go back. That's the only way to fix this. However, though the solution seemed simple, Ben had used his last Datesim. There was no time travel for him until next year. It didn't seem like a pressing issue, but Ben knew that if one thing had changed, many other things had also. People might not have existed, music might not have been written, and things might not have been built.
         He knew what he had to do.
         Ben's neighbor across the hall was a middle-aged man who seemed older than he was. He never liked to time travel even though he had the Datesims to do so. Ben knew the man wasn't home, and would not be home for hours; he was a repurposer for the city's waste department.
         It would not be hard to break in to Mr. Layran's apartment. These old buildings did not have the security and technology of other modernized neighborhoods in the city. Ben took a screwdriver from his junk drawer and cautiously opened his front door and crept across the hall to apartment 2B. First, he tried the doorknob to make sure it was not locked. Often, in this part of town, residents would leave their doors unlocked because they felt that no one would steal from the already poor. Apparently Mr. Layran felt this way, and Ben breathed a sigh of relief. At least it would not be breaking and entering.
         The door was halfway opened when Ben heard a snore. Mr. Layran was home and sleeping like a log. Fright shot through Ben like a bullet, but he was determined. He just needed one Datesim. Mr. Layran would not even notice. Hopefully the Time Keepers wouldn't either. Sharing Datesims was a fraudulent crime.
         Where would he keep them? Ben asked himself. There was a table next to the door where the mail tube ended. The Datesims would probably be there. He checked the bowl directly under the mail tube and found nothing from the Pargonia Time Ministry. Perhaps they're in this drawer. Ben tried to carefully open the drawer, but it was stuck after being pulled out two inches. Ben peered into the opening and saw the logo of the Pargonia Time Ministry. The Datesims were in the stuck drawer. Ben took the screwdriver and inserted it into the opening. He used the flathead to lift one of the envelopes just enough so his fingers could reach it from the opening. He extracted the Datesim and crept out of Mr. Layran's apartment. He silently closed the door behind him.
         He went back to his apartment and grabbed Beethoven's sheet and ventured out to the Time Terminal. Because the Time Ministry did extensive background checks before sending out Datesims, security at the Time Terminal consisted only of a body check for weapons and objects not allowed in the Time Pods.
         There were different Time Keepers today. The gods are in my favor, Ben thought, they won't recognize me. Ben walked carefully up to the Time Keepers and handed in Mr. Layran's Datesim. When they scanned it, it would show Mr. Layran's picture on the screen. Ben wore his hood that shaded his face and looked down quietly. Mr. Layran had brown hair like Ben, but Ben's was wispier. Mr. Layran also had brown eyes, whereas Ben had dark blue ones. The Time Keeper today did not seem to even look at Mr. Layran's photo, but waved him on through. Maybe taking the sheet had let the Time Keepers become more lax, Ben mused.
         After checking in, Ben waited for an available Time Pod. He did not acknowledge that he was being called, as it was Mr. Layran's name.
         "Todd Layran! Todd Layran to Time Pod F67!"
         Ben startled and made his way to Pod F67. He punched in the same date stamp as last time: 10 November, 1815; 4:15 P.M., Vienna, Austria: Ludwig van Beethoven's apartment. He felt his molecules being dismantled as the Time Pod blasted through time. Finally, the Time Pod landed exactly where it had the last time. Beethoven was throwing the same fit, and the stack of papers lay on the piano, unsuspecting of inspiring the greatest symphony of all time. It was coming to the point where Beethoven would turn his back for a few seconds. Ben readied the sheet and waited.
         As soon as Beethoven turned his back to Benjamin, he reached through the invisibility shield and placed the sheet upon the stack of papers. However, it took him longer, as he tried to place it neatly, and the red warning light outside the Time Pod door started to flash. They knew he had broken the rule. Before, when he had stolen the paper, his hand was outside the shield for only a second. Not long enough to detect a breach. At least the sheet was back where it should have been. The platform was withdrawing into the machine, and Ben, though frightened at punishment was relieved that the sheet music was back where it rightfully belonged.
         The Time Pod immediately raced back to Ben's present day and three Time Keepers were standing outside the entrance with cuffs. Ben raised his hands above his head. "I surrender," he sighed.
         The interrogation was short.
         "Why did you venture outside the invisibility shield?" the Time Keeper demanded.
         "To put back something I had taken," was Ben's quiet reply.          
         "So you took something from the past?"
         "Yes. I admit that I took something from the past, and it changed our day, so I had to go back and change it again," he explained.
         "You realize that you have committed three crimes? You went outside the invisibility shield; you stole something from the past; and you fraudulently used someone else's Datesim," the Time Keeper had dealt with this before and knew that interrogation was just a formality.
         "Yes I know," Ben capitulated.
         "Do you know what will happen now?" the Time Keeper asked.
         "I suppose I'll be punished."
         "Yes, but we will be a little lenient because you tried to right your wrong." Ben looked up. He was not expecting any leniency. He knew that breaking Time Rules resulted in many years in prison and even death if the crime was severe enough.
         "You will serve two years in prison instead of the recommended ten. Stealing something is five years' time, fraud is three, and shield breaching is three. At least you gave back the sheet."
         "This is unbelievable. I can't thank you enough," Ben could not contain his gratefulness.
         "Do not thank me. You still committed crimes. Can I ask though? How did 2162 change because of a simple sheet of music?" the Time Keeper was curious.
         "How much do you love music?" Ben asked the man.
         "As much as anyone else I guess," was the Time Keeper's response.
         "Well music is my life, and I couldn't live in a world where one of the greatest symphonies of all time, one that inspired so many other great works, did not exist because of me."
         
         Ben was placed in the prison two hours later. He was allowed one request. "Can I hear Beethoven's Ninth Symphony?" The guard looked at him curiously and then smiled. "Easy enough."