The Dark Symphony

the judges who would soon decide their fates.
    It was an unbearably long walk considering the tension that was already building in each of the boys and which would have their hearts thumping by the time they had reached their destination, but it did, at least, give Guil time to think. Suddenly, his ability with the guitar seemed as nothing. The Grand Hall stretched to all sides, and the grandeur made him question himself, made him feel small and insignificant—and doomed to failure. What if he
were
an inferior product of the genetic engineers and the Inundation Chamber, worse— in his way—than even Rosie? Would he die today during the tests, or when he had to face the Pillar of Ultimate Sound—or in the disposal furnaces where the rejects were carted, shoved through an iron grate door and burned? Maybe Frederic would be right: maybe he would receive the biggest surprise. Maybe he would die… He forced himself out of this useless funk just as the procession reached the foot of the Bench and spread out in a semicircle before the judges.
    The orchestra performed the invocation using ancient instruments of brass and steel and wood rather than the modern synthetic instruments. The judges sat solemn and dignified, their white robes shielding all of their bodies but their heads, the orange ring of the judicial branch encircling their necks. The boys genuflected to the sound-portrait of Vladislovitch, the First Musician, the Finder of the Way of Sound. Starting on the right of the semicircle, each boy recited a line of the Coming of Age Day Litany in turn.
    "Vladislovitch, Father of the World, Musician Supreme," the first boy intoned.
    "Vladislovitch, Finder and User of the Eight Rules of Sound, Opener of the Way…"
    "Vladislovitch, Meistro and Patron of All Towers…"
    "Vladislovitch who played his
cadenza
before the very gods of old and brought them tumbling down," Guil said breathlessly.
    "Bless us, bless us, bless us," the next boy chanted.
    The litany spun on to conclusion. The crowd said, "Ah-ah-ah-men." The tests were ready to begin…
    They were taken to an isolation chamber to await their individual tests so that none might see what awaited them and thus prepare for it—or collapse from fear of it. Although each boy knew a bit of what would happen if the father of each had, surely, recounted the nature of previous Coming of Age Day rituals), he could not know all, for the exact pattern of the tests was changed every four months, changed for every Coming of Age Day ritual. One by one, the others left to face their futures. There were only Guil and Rosie left when the attendant in light green robes and a yellow scarf came to the door and said, "Grieg. You're now."
    "Wait!" Rosie cried as Guil reached the door, following the attendant.
    "What?"
    "Good luck, Guil."
    "Thanks, Rosie. I'll be waiting to shout for you when it's your turn."
    But when he stepped outside, he was not so sure he would be around to cheer anyone. Of the six boys who had gone before, only three had made it. Fifty-fifty chances. Were the odds always this gruesome? He could think of no time when anyone had mentioned the percentage of those who survived and those who were slaughtered or taken off for cremation, and he was abruptly ill. Some of the boys who had lost had been good musicians, better than Guil. Much better. And what did that mean, he wondered, trembling.
    The winners sat on golden chairs on a platform above the arena floor, below and to the right of the judges, ready to watch the misfits—Guil and Rosie. Guil looked for some sign of the three losers, could find none. No bodies meant that all three must have buckled early, must have been carried away right off. No, not necessarily. A sound creature, after all, did not leave signs of its victims. It engulfed them whole, negated the molecular vibrations that constituted them, and vanished with them, effectively canceling them out of existence.
    Quaking, he walked before the towering Bench, bent his neck so he could see the judge called Handel peering at him from the centermost throne. "Guillaume Dufay Grieg?"
    I want to run
, he thought
I want to get out of here, out of here and far away
. "It is I, your honor," he said.
    "Are you prepared to begin your test?"
    No, no
, he thought.
I'm not prepared. I'm afraid. I'm more afraid than a baby in the dark
. Yes, your honor," he said.
    "Do you have any particular statements or requests to make at this time?"
    Let me out! Let me the hell