Chapter 4
Sakaido narrowed his eyes down into the musical maze. It had been way too long and he'd practically dozed off content with the fact that Momoki would have pulled them if they weren't doing as expected. Waiting. Motion caught his gaze. Not that it would be hard to spot motion in such a static world. "Hey, would you look at that. I think Anaido is finally getting his act together."
Hijiriido leaned forward and shaded her eyes with a hand. "Oh yeah. That does seem to be him, not in a hurry though."
"Is he ever?"
"You'd know more than me. I mean, how long have you spent in the same cell block?"
Sakaido sighed. "Don't get me started on that. But," his severe expression lightened some, "I have to admit sometimes it's nice to have someone to chat with. Even if he does tend to carry on. And on. And on and on."
"I get the point." Hijiriido stood up and dusted herself off. "Well, once we solve this mystery, you two can go back to chatting."
"Great." There was little enthusiasm in his reply, but he climbed to his feet and swung the mallet in his hand. "About time to get this concert going."
"If we're good maybe we'll get an encore."
Sakaido chuckled. "Painful enough to do this just once."
"Oh come on. Music never hurt anyone. Besides, you got it down. We had plenty of time to practice."
"Feels like some form of summer band camp or something. Despite appearances, I really haven't gotten the hang of this." He swung the mallet and clipped a bell, his shocked expression revealing that was not on purpose.
Hijiriido laughed. "Ok, so this isn't going to be some professional-grade performance. We're brilliant detectives, not brilliant musicians. Hopefully, the well will cut us an amateur break."
That was what worried him. What would that break entail?
Watching from the edge of his instrumental platform, Sakaido felt the epic lay of this musical-scored landscape. It was almost as if a wind blew and disrupted the scarf around his neck. That had to be only his imagination, but still.
"Ready!" Anaido called up from the platform below.
His call was answered by Hijiriido, "Ready!"
Why did Sakaido have the image in his head of some reluctant fantasy hero clutching a second-hand sword? He stared at the mallet and shrugged, beads of sweat rolled down his face. "Ready … I suppose."
A moment later the first notes of the song filled the air. Practice paid off. This time Sakaido had a clue what he was doing. Hesitantly he followed the notes, tracking where they fell in the instrument's suspended bells. Each time he nailed it the bell gleamed a pleasing soft pastel color. Measure by measure it built momentum like a whirlwind of sounds. It swept up all his concentration until he found he wasn't anymore. He was just doing it as if by some strange magic. His hand just knew where to hit.
Down below the flute and violin raced along with him.
The glowing bells continued their reign as if it might never end. What was this miraculous feeling? It was … exhilarating. Rather like Sakaido experienced when he solved a mystery and caught the killer in an id well, versus biting the bullet in one. He threw his head back and laughed in delight.
From below he wasn't the only one engulfed in the ecstasy. Hijiriido and Anaido both cried out in delight.
The lights grew brighter, the tones more saturated. Pale blue turned ultramarine. Pale green shifted to forest. Pale pink blazed a crimson red. And he barely paid it any heed. The music had its claws in him, rending deeper as the rapids swept him along like a mosh pit at a rave.
He'd never done drugs, be he imagined this was what a high might feel like.
Feverish.
Unyielding.
Irresistible!
Like knowing the inner motive of another sick twisted mind and warping it until they got their just deserts. Oh, was this familiar. Deliciously familiar.
~ID~
"You know," Habutae had a finger to his chin, "they really aren't half bad. I have to admit. The tune is catchy."
"A real toe-tapper." Wakashika was indeed keeping the time. But at length, his brow furrowed. "Hold up. There's something more to this. The timing, the rhythm." Grabbing a sample he ran it through a couple of analyzers.
Glancing up at the circle, Momoki eyed the now furiously typing analyst. "You got something?"
"Whoa! Yeah. You could say I do. This is some seriously psychedelic stuff. Odd for something rather classical. But I kid you not, this music has a hypnotic rhythm to it that quite literally takes over the mind."
"Hypnotism? Mind control?" Momoki rolled his fingers on his arm. "That is a pseudo-science."
"You're really gonna say that when we have mentally projected alter egos running around in a reconstructed subconscious?"
That brought him up short. "You have a slight point. But not enough to stand on, Wakashika. Hypnosis has been proven as working on only a scant few of the population, and usually the highly suggestive. Narihisago is certainly not easily swayed. Hondomachi is possibly the most willful woman I know." He hid a gesture of apology to Togo. "And Fukuda … well, Fukuda may be the only one in there who might fall for it, and likely just to see what it would do."
"This isn't hypnosis in the traditional sense. This is the emotional current." Wakashika narrowed his gaze and chewed on a knuckle. "This is more than music soothes the savage beast. This is as if someone used the patterns as a building block to literally hijack someone's will."
Habutae laughed. "Now that sounds like sci-fi."
"Say that were true," Togo looked up from the pad, alarmed at some of the data from the dive, "what would be the objective?"
"That's the real question. It's not a trance. It's something else altogether. An altered state of functional mind."
In the next moment, all eyes whipped to the feed from the well. Momoki leaned forward. "What the ever-living hell!"