Symphony: Prelude

PRELUDE

Vivace e con brio

“Maestro Cates!”

All Morgan Cates knew of those two words in that moment was that they were her cue to enter the stage. They marked the beginning of the performance and signaled the waiting crowd to applaud. But Morgan wasn’t aware of her reception as she crossed the stage and took her place at the podium. She gave a formal bow to the audience without really seeing them and then turned to face her musicians. In front of her orchestra, all else disappeared from her consciousness entirely. They were turned to her, awaiting her direction. With a lift of her head, Morgan raised her baton and in one unified movement the musicians lifted their instruments. It was the downswing of Morgan’s baton that heralded the burst of sound that suddenly filled the auditorium and enveloped every person in it.

Her deep auburn hair was pinned up off her neck and she was wearing a strapless evening gown that left her arms unhindered. The black silk dress was long and simple, a line of sparkling white gems across the top its only ornamentation. Morgan had chosen it for its simple elegance—a small bow to convention—and the freedom it gave her. She didn’t think of it at all when she was conducting. She didn’t think of how the sharp lights reflected in the stones dazzled the eye or how all could see the muscles of her shoulders and arms as she moved; she felt how tightly controlled each movement was. She was unaware that some glared and sat wishing for the traditional gentleman in tailcoat.

Concentrated fully on the music, Morgan spared no energy for the audience. She was consumed and felt like a virtuoso, playing the orchestra as a powerful instrument. The force of her focused will pulled the music from them to create the sound and the experience. The movements of her body drove the music as if she were dancing with the music itself. Her baton went from great sweeping gestures to small jerky movements while the audience sat hypnotized by the music’s fierce intensity. Through weeks of rehearsals, Morgan had mastered the group of passionate and talented musicians. Now, she brought the audience under her control as well. She knew how each note was engineered to play off the walls and ceiling of the auditorium to strike against the body of every man, woman, and child present; knew how each sound was meant to reverberate off the soul, inspire a specific emotional and physical response. She felt it and had she thought of it she would have expected everyone else to feel the same. She didn’t know that it was different for every one of them; none of it was shared.

This was Morgan’s favorite symphony, but she felt she was hearing it for the first time. She was at once fully inside her own skin—experiencing the physical sensations in her ears and veins—and an integrated part of each musician before her—playing every instrument. The piece was a popular classic, but she’d changed parts of the traditional arrangements to make each instrument’s part clearer and more distinguishable. She felt the new smoothness in the transitions, accomplished by her own knowledge of how each note had to be played by each instrument. She heard her sensitivity to the nuances of the music complement the particular acoustics of the hall. Morgan felt every note resonate within her as her every movement was answered by the sound of the orchestra.

Some of these sensations were familiar to Morgan. They had been there when she was conducting before. But on this night there was some new element that heightened the experience. As if all those other performances had been mere shadows of what was to come, whispers of what she was capable of. She didn’t know if it was because this was her favorite piece of music or if her new arrangements had made that much difference, but somehow the music enhanced all her senses so that even while she was fully concentrated on conducting, intensely focused on the quality of every note on every instrument, she was also sensitive to small details. Her consciousness seemed to have expanded so that she could hear with perfect clarity, smell the polish on the brass and resin on the bows, and feel her muscles working under her skin and the silk of her dress against her legs and back and breasts. At the same time, she was part of everything and wholly within herself. It was a transcendent ecstasy that shone fiercely from her bright blue eyes as her movements continued driving the music. Her musicians were roused by her intensity and played to match it, she pulled it from them, and they bent to her will.

As the music climbed to its climax Morgan felt every aspect of her being rise in answer. Her back straightened with the triumphant motif, her heart pounded, her breathing came labored and heavy, her skin flushed with heat and color—only her hair, still tightly bound around her head, seemed determined to remain in place. All else fell away in the presence of music filled with power and rapture. She felt as if her entire being was delivered into the hands of glory and joy. Her arms lifted the music to fever pitch, then slashed the air violently to cut off all sound. It was over.

Morgan stood breathing heavily, waiting for the final note to vibrate into silence. Then she looked at her orchestra and the world returned to her in great waves of sensation. Her vision lost its absolute clarity and she saw blurs of color as roses flew through the air and onto the stage. The rush of applause from an audience that had erupted from its seats was a harsh attack on her ears that had moments ago been filled by magnificent music. Now, there were people and a hall and a world beyond the stage again. The invisible cords she’d extended to each orchestra member snapped back into her own body, so she was left fully inside herself, and yet felt suddenly disconnected from the moment—past and future had returned. She saw the moment within the context of her life and turned to face the audience; her expression reflected an emotion that could be perceived as an almost inhuman look of joy or at the same time a fierce and defiant pride.