Foundation and Earth - Isaac Asimov [172]
“It’s a little different from the——” Fallom said, a little breathlessly, as though the breath that had been activating the flute had been her own instead of power-driven air.
Pelorat said to Trevize, “She must be getting the energy from the electric current that feeds the fluorescents.”
“Try again,” said Hiroko in a choked voice.
Fallom closed her eyes. The note was softer now and under firmer control. The flute played by itself, maneuvered by no fingers, but moved by distant energy, transduced through the still immature lobes of Fallom’s brain. The notes which began as almost random settled into a musical succession and now everyone in the hall had gathered around Hiroko and Fallom, as Hiroko held the flute gently with thumb and forefinger at either end, and Fallom, eyes closed, directed the current of air and the movement of the keys.
“It’s the piece I played,” whispered Hiroko.
“I remember it,” said Fallom, nodding her head slightly, trying not to break her concentration.
“Thou didst not miss a note,” said Hiroko, when it was done.
“But it’s not right, Hiroko. You didn’t do it right.”
Bliss said, “Fallom! That’s not polite. You mustn’t—”
“Please,” said Hiroko peremptorily, “do not interfere. Why is it not right, child?”
“Because I would play it differently.”
“Show me, then.”
Again the flute played, but in more complicated fashion, for the forces that pushed the keys did so more quickly, in more rapid succession and in more elaborate combinations than before. The music was more complex, and infinitely more emotional and moving. Hiroko stood rigid and there was not a sound to be heard anywhere in the room.
Even after Fallom had finished playing, there was not a sound until Hiroko drew a deep breath and said, “Little one, hast thou ever played that before?”
“No,” said Fallom, “before this I could only use my fingers, and I can’t do my fingers like that.” Then, simply and with no trace of vaunting, “No one can.”
“Canst thou play anything else?”
“I can make something up.”
“Dost thou mean—improvise?”
Fallom frowned at the word and looked toward Bliss. Bliss nodded and Fallom said, “Yes.”
“Please do so, then,” said Hiroko.
Fallom paused and thought for a minute or two, then began slowly, in a very simple succession of notes, the whole being rather dreamy. The fluorescent lights dimmed and brightened as the amount of power exerted intensified and faded. No one seemed to notice, for it seemed to be the effect of the music rather than the cause, as though a ghostly electrical spirit were obeying the dictates of the sound waves.
The combination of notes then repeated itself a bit more loudly, then a bit more complexly, then in variations that, without ever losing the clearly heard basic combination, became more stirring and more exciting until it was almost impossible to breathe. And finally, it descended much more rapidly than it had ascended and did so with the effect of a swooping dive that brought the listeners to ground level even while they still retained the feeling that they were high in the air.
There followed sheer pandemonium that split the air, and even Trevize, who was used to a totally different kind of music, thought sadly, “And now I’ll never hear that again.”
When a most reluctant quiet had returned, Hiroko held out her flute. “Here, Fallom, this is thine!”
Fallom reached for it eagerly, but Bliss caught hold of the child’s outstretched arm and said, “We can’t take it, Hiroko. It’s a valuable instrument.”
“I have another, Bliss. Not quite as good, but that is how it should be. This instrument belongeth to the person who playeth it best. Never have I heard such music and it would be wrong for me to own an instrument I cannot use to full potential. Would that I knew how the instrument could be made to play without being touched.”
Fallom took the flute and, with an expression of deep content, held it tightly