Chapter 9: Blind Violinist
"Damn." Sentran muttered to himself as he walked down the sidewalk that was strewn with cigarette butts, old yellowed newspapers and filthy beggars. The street was filled with tall, colorless buildings that reached up to the grey skies above.
The file that Andrant gave him on the Association didn't have too much information in it, at least about how he could find any of the members. The Association did a good job at hiding itself. He had been looking for a lead for a week now, and all the trails he picked up turned out to be dead ends. It was infuriating him. I mean, for crying out fucking loud, they had to be somewhere! The file had a list of suspected member (Five in total), but they all turned out to be dead or couldn't be found at all. They seemed to be the only Resistance group that The State couldn't destroy. It wasn't a lack of firepower, but a lack of information that seemed to be the problem.
Lost in thought he continued walking down the street when he heard it. It was sad and sweet and vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it, or even begin to describe it. He followed the noise as though hypnotized. He made a right turn at the corner and saw the source of the odd, beautiful music, a young violinist. He strided towards the musician who was playing bittersweet music that clearly spoke of lose and pain, and yet was not unhappy. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. She had waist length hair that was so dark it could have been dipped into a barrel of ink. She wore ragged, dirty clothes that looked as though they were little more than rags that had been sowed together clumsily. As Sentran looked at her face, the first thing he noticed was her eyes, which were milky white with no iris. She was blind. He listened for what seemed like an eternity, lost in the haunting melody that came out of her violin. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a few small silver coins and dropped them in her open violin case at her feet. The coins jingled happily as they hit the small collection of money at the bottom.
"Thank you sir." She spoke in a soft voice while still playing. Her voice seemed to melt into the melody flawlessly, as though it were part of the song itself.
"You welcome." He muttered, almost embarrassedly. "You are truly gifted." He added quickly, as though to apologize.
"Thank You" She responded politely. "Would you like to make a request?"
Sentran thought about that for a second before responding
"What I want you cannot help me with, but I would truly enjoy it if you would continue playing that song." He said, feeling unusual. Compassionate.
"Yes sir." She said, and with that he walked slowly away, listing to her play her song. Then it hit him. He knew why the song made him feel this way. It made him think of a simpler time, before he started working for The State, before he killed, before he lost Zentrill. How much he lost on that fateful night, he tried not to think about, but it kept creeping in his mind, like a burglar in the night. He stopped for a moment, as though he wanted to say something, but then decided against it. He turned the corner and was gone.
Another stranger had walked up to the violinist. He was dressed in a business suit and wore a Fedora hat that was bent downwards so it partially concealed his face. He looked at the young violinist for a few seconds before pulling out a few silver coins and tossing them into the case.
"Thank you sir." She said in a sweet voice "Would you like to make a request?"
"Play one for the Association." He said quietly to make sure no one overheard, even though there was not person within twenty feet of them.
Without breaking her concentration on her instrument, she slid the case aside with her foot, revealing a plain, white envelope. He quickly bent down to pick it up and slid it into his pocket, smiling slightly.
"Keep on playing kid." He said in a low voice as he walked away from her, listening to memories. Sometimes the best place to hide something is in plain sight. The music continued to echo as he disappeared into the ignorant and unstable city.
"I'm sorry sir, but were still having trouble with the project." He said with his eyes cast towards the floor. He was wearing a white lab coat and large glasses, and it was obvious that he was exceptionally nervous about giving this report to the most powerful man in all of Serenthia.
"What the hell is it this time?" He yelled at him in frustration. "I thought that once you learned how to refine Trexic in those damned factories it would be finished?"
"I'm sorry, but we need something else, a different source of power" He continued "For some reason, our current technology doesn't work with this kind of reaction. It's not that they don't produce the enough energy, it's that it seems to be the wrong kind of energy."
"So then what is the right kind?" Andrant demanded. The ineptitude of these damned scientists was really starting to piss him off.
"Well, sir, we're not really sure. Right now we're working on many different theories and energies, b-but so f-far there all f-failing." He had started to stutter in fear.
Andrant eyed him "I expected better from you, Noxtent." He said coldly. "I have given you more then enough time and money, yet I see very little progress. You disappoint."
"P-please sir, j-just give me a l-little more t-time! I know t-that we're close t-to a breakthrough! If I j-just had-"
"You have failed" Andrant cut across him while reaching into his desk. "There are other scientist who would jump at the chance to be in your position, and one of them is about to get it." He pulled out a silver revolver from behind his desk and pointed it directly at Noxtent's chest. "I do not tolerate failure. The project will be better off without you."
Noxtent looked at the gun with an open mouth. His face looked confused, as though he didn't understand what was going on. Then something clicked in his mind, and suddenly he looked terrified. "Sir, p-please" He started to cry, a few tears running down his cheek "j-just give me m-more-"He never finished that sentence. Andrant pulled the trigger, sending a bullet directly into his lung. Noxtent gasped and clutched his side in pain. He raised his other hand to try to stop him. Andrant did the same thing two more time, ignoring Noxtents desperate attempts to deflect the bullets with his hand. Noxtent collapsed in the chair, looking at Andrant as though expecting him to help, but he just sat there, looking at him.
"I do not tolerate failure or crybabies." He said while looking the dying man straight in the eyes. "Hopefully your replacement will do a better job then you did." Noxtents eyes widened in surprise, then he slumped back in his chair, his eyes fixed motionless in a glassy stare.
Andrant sighed. He picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers, then waited for somebody to answer. After a few moments he spoke.
"Hello Delcant, just the man I wanted to talk to!" He said enthusiastically "A head position just opened up." He listened to the other end of the line for a few seconds. "Oh, Noxtents been feeling ill, so has going to go on a nice long vacation to somewhere warm , perhaps the sun will do him some good. So, how would you like his position?' He listened again for a few moments, then smiled. "Great! You'll start Monday, you'll be handling all of his research. Talk to you later." He hung up the phone and pulled out a cigar and lit it. He picked up the phone again and called the front desk.
"Hello Credik, could you send up a janitor, there's garbage that needs to be picked up. Oh, and tell him to bring the big bag. Thank you." He hung up the phone again and glanced at the body. He picked up a sharp pencil and poked him in the eye with it. The corpse didn't move. This guy was dead.
Well, some things just can't be helped, Andrant thought to himself. Hopefully Delcant would do a better job than Noxtent. If he didn't though, he could always find someone else. Scientist where a dime a dozen, and as such, dispensable. This project had to get done, the sooner the better.