Disclaimer: I don't own Big O or anything Mozart's written.
I sit at the piano, my fingers lightly persuading the keys into motion. I pause, and sit for a moment, pressing one key over and over, feeling its resistance against my synthetic skin. I an compelled to lift the lid and watch. To see, how my own man-made hands, affect this other man-made thing. I want to see… How I can press the keys and a sweet and slow Tchaikovksy waltz will melt the room like sugar does on the tongue. Or maybe a piece by Mozart would do best.
I remember Instro once teaching me something written by this Mozart. I remember listening. Listening very hard- because the moment the first note was played I felt something deep within me stir. I requested to hear it once more before I sat at the keys and played it myself. This music, this man, Mozart… He reminded me of my place in the world. He reminded me of my isolation and my foreignness. He who was a tortured soul, some say, could still manufacture his emotions to reach others' ears. He could still communicate to others of his sensibilities, his failures, his deepest inner demons, and in his own special way.
I do not like him. Perhaps it is envy.
Nevertheless, I place my fingers over the keys and begin the song. Its tempo is a hasty one, however the tune itself is full of rejoice. It displays to me thoughts of urgency, the need to get up and move, to run, to dance, even though I know I was not made for it. I want to try.
As Roger passes me with the usual threatening scowl – I realize that maybe he thinks my choice today a little obnoxious. But I do not show that I care. Of course I do not. I play again. Simply to tell him, with my song as the words, about my craving, my need… To say, I want to know more about this thing called life… To cry out without sound, let Mozart speak for me!
The song ends with a light "plink, plink," and I shut the case over the keys. I get up and follow Roger to the dining room, but he has not stopped to wait for me. Apparently, he has not gotten my message.
Yes, I do not like this Mozart.
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Yeah, well. I know I've posted this before, I just thought it could do with some editing. Hopefully it makes more sense now. =) Well, please go on to the next chapter if you're interested, okies?