by Tommy Dakar
At a perfectly illuminated canteen table sat a beautiful blonde girl with the eloquent gestures of a professional actress. Her companions had been chosen to supply contrast: an Afro American boy adorned with gadgetry, an Asian girl with jet black hair brushed over one shoulder, a red haired youth with an incipient beard, like a junior lumberjack. They pretended to eat and drink and gossip idly. The camera swung gently across identical groups of students towards the entrance to the campus canteen. A dark boy walked in, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, an enigmatic look on his face. The camera panned back to the girl, who twitched nervously, communicating her uneasiness through her well-studied though overacted facial movements.
Carl stopped the sequence and set it back to the beginning.
‘That’s the scene. Now I have to add the background music, the soundtrack.’
Out of habit he spoke clearly, stressing each syllable, facing Aisha directly so that she could read his lips if necessary. He was unsure if her operation had been a success or not, and to what degree she could now pick up the sound of his voice. The implant had a little green light that blinked on and off from time to time, but he did not know if this was significant or not. From where Aisha sat she could see the light reflected in the wide screen.
‘Music is still difficult for me to hear correctly. It sounds metallic. Since the implant I can hear more, much more, but the sounds have changed. Your voice sounds different. I suppose I’ll get used to it.’
The studio was a small room, full of mixing desks and monitors. There was a smell of old carpet and new plastic. Carl sat in the big chair, the one with wheels. Aisha sat on the assistant’s chair, aluminum, sticky fake leather upholstery, no more than a metre from Carl.
‘Do they check the equalization when you go for checkups?’
‘Uh huh, but it still sounds odd.’
‘But you can hear much better, I mean much more?’
‘Oh yes, it’s fantastic, really fantastic. Thanks to all of you.’
Carl blushed and turned back to the screen; he hadn’t been fishing for gratitude. She was referring to the fact that the musicians, organized via the studio, had staged a number of charity gigs so that she could have her implant operation. She would be eternally grateful, which meant Carl would feel eternally uncomfortable.
He decided to try her out. With his back to her he started to explain.
‘What I do now will colour the scene, give the impression I want. Well, what the director wants. If I choose a certain type of music, the scene takes on a different air.’
He swiveled to face her. She nodded. But had she heard him? She realized she was being tested, and answered accordingly.
‘I see what you mean, though I may not be able to pick up the soundtrack too well.’
She still spoke in her slightly swollen way, as if she had something in her mouth, but she no longer shouted, he noticed.
‘Well let’s see. First, I am going to make it a romance. She has been waiting for her loved one to arrive. When he does, she is thrown into a whirl. Love will conquer all.’
‘At least at the movies.’
‘OK, here goes. Take one.’
Violins, tinkling piano, a harp somewhere in the distance. The boy enters, her heart swells, riding on the waves of emotional music. It must be love!
‘Very pretty. I didn’t get it all, as I said, it sounds very metallic, but I can hear it, I can feel the atmosphere.’
‘Great! You’ll get used to it, more and more as time goes by, you’ll see. But that’s excellent. Now let’s change the whole idea. A horror story. She is safe with her friends, hoping to god that her worst nightmare won’t turn up. But then, oh no! It’s him! Fear, panic, terror! Ready?’
Erratic sounds against a backdrop of tense, slightly discordant strings, off beat and dramatic bass sounds. A crescendo of harsh, frenzied orchestration accompanied by a piercing high note as the dark boy enters.
‘Wow, how it changes the whole concept of the scene, eh? From love to fear, just by changing the music score. Incredible.’
‘And that’s what we do, amongst other things like recording the bands and stuff. We also do adverts and jingles. Video game sounds lately. Anything to do with the world of music.’
Aisha toyed with a miniature antenna that she could connect to a base plaque just above her ear. She was about to give thanks again when Marcus appeared at the door.
‘Hi Aisha. How’s it going? You picking it all up now?’
‘Most of it. It still sounds a bit metallic, but I suppose that with time…
Marcus cut short the niceties by his look of concern. Carl and Aisha fell silent waiting for an explanation.
‘Joel’s downstairs. Wants to see you now. Won’t take no for an answer. I don’t like it.’
‘Send him up.’
Aisha saw her cue.
‘Well, I’ll be off now. Thanks so much for…’
‘No, Aisha, just a minute if you don’t mind. Are you in a hurry?’
‘Nnnoo’
Which meant, not necessarily, not if you need me. Are you sure?
‘Just for a few minutes. If you don’t mind?’
‘No, no, that’s fine.’
‘Tell him to come on up’.
CHORUS