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Chapter Nineteen: Another Era
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Nathella walked in to the massive church. It was plain, and all was still. As the liturgy began, the stillness was not broken; the majestic Latin spoken by those up front only augmented the silence. Each step was majestic; she lost herself in its familiar details.
After the service, she put her hand on Taberah's shoulder, and asked him, "So, whatchya think?"
Taberah's eyes were misty. He closed them, then opened them, saying, "I don't understand. I did not see the guest of honor. Was he a theologian?"
Nathella said, "What?"
"Was the guest of honor a theologian?"
Nathella reminded himself that Taberah sometimes approached matters strangely. "I would rather think of him as God who told stories. What do you think?"
Taberah said, "Not Jesus, the person the -- now I remember the word -- funeral is being held for. Was he a theologian?"
Nathella withdrew, slightly surprised. She said, "Why do you think this was a funeral?"
Taberah said, "It was so mournful. People were silent; they did not say anything, and the person up front was impossible to hear. There weren't any changing songs. And I didn't hear any instrument music, no organ. And this church had its walls stripped -- no statues, no color in windows. Does this building have anything besides funerals?"
Nathella accepted that Taberah's perception of the Latin mass was very different from her own. No, that wasn't quite right. He wasn't responding to the Latin, per se; it was something else that accompanied the Latin. It -- she decided to stop musing and respond to him. "At home we have a machine that can make organ music; would you like to come home?"
At home, they sat down on a sofa and set the computer to play music. Taberah listened to the sound, the familiar sound of an organ -- no, it was not; it had range and voices and a perfection of sound such as he had never heard, and such speed! Then it unfolded, into two voices, three, four. Taberah felt dizzy with the complexity, or more accurately, giddy, drunk; he heard wheels within wheels within wheels within wheels. It was alien in many ways; most of all, he felt that he had never encountered such a mind. He never knew that such music existed. When the moment wound down after several pieces, he said, "I awe," and then, "Who was that?"
Nathella smiled and said, "That was Bach."
"May I speak with Mr. Bach? I would very much like to meet him."
"Honey, Bach has been dead for almost three hundred years."
At this, Taberah was surprised. "If Bach is dead, how did he play that?"
"Bach wrote his music down, then someone else played it on an organ, then the computer kept and transported the sounds so we could hear them."
"How can a rock transport sounds?"
"Aed, would you explain that?"
As Aed explained, Nathella observed Taberah. He no longer seemed so completely homesick; his face bore the excitement of discovery. Taberah was adapting to his new land.
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Chapter Nineteen: Another Era
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