Prologue

Robert's POV

February 2053

I never thought the city would really close down the Mirabel Theatre. In Vulcan, Virginia, the theatre is really the only thing of culture besides the Vulcan Youth Choir, which I was in when I was much younger. Now, I'm arthritic, aged, and decrepit, and I'm at the Mirabel bidding for things that once had great value.

The auctioneer already sold a poster for "Annie" and three human skulls from the 2010 production of "Macbeth" by Shakespeare. Now a papier-mâché musical box, in the shape of an octagon, was for sale. Attached was the figure of a ballerina in a pink tutu en pointe. This item was discovered in the vaults of the theatre, still in working order. The porter set it in motion, and a familiar tune played, making me think of the woman whom I loved. Suddenly, I wanted that box more than anything. The auctioneer said, "May I start at 20 dollars? 15, then? 15 I am bid." Then I bid 20 dollars.

Suddenly, as if out of the once-gilded woodwork, Mrs. Lamech, a woman whom I knew and who must have been 120 years old, appeared and bid 25 dollars. I countered with 30 dollars. That she couldn't top, so I got the music box. "Sold, for thirty dollars to Mr. Laurence. Thank you, sir," said the auctioneer, and the box is handed to me. I look at the box, trying to connect to my love. I started to sing to the box:
A collector's piece indeed . . .
every detail exactly as she said . . .
Will you still play,
when all the rest of us are dead?

The auctioneer started to talk again. "Lot 666, then: a chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera: a mystery never fully explained. We are told ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster. Our workshops have restored it and fitted up parts of it with wiring for the new electric light, so that we may get a hint of what it may look like when re-assembled. Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination. Gentlemen?"

The auctioneer switched on the chandelier. There was an enormous flash, and the theatre was restored to its earlier grandeur, at least in my mind. The chandelier immense and glittering, rose magically from the stage, finally hovering high above the ceiling. My mind started to drift back about 47 years, when Alicia was still in my arms, and the Mirabel was still in good repair...