Chapter 102

Well I have been relieved of my commission. The IGBI have sacked me. Or put me on hold, or something. But, and you may have guessed this, Jenny Wizz dropped by and recruited me into the IGIA. Thats how spies do it. They seduce you then recruit you. She will drop by occasionally to “debrief me” otherwise I can “act normal.” I have forgotten what normal is. But I start with a call to the Booking Agency to see if there are any jobs going. Brian is talking figures with Zeno on the vidphone. So far so normal. He is so engrossed in scrap metal that the loss of contact with Veronica just washed over him. The Booking Agency will call back. So I mope. Then I decide to go out. It is the wet hour. I put on my waterproof shield and step into the rain. Without my shield I would be soaked within a minute, but the water skims of me like a greased oilskin. I walk slowly letting my mind wander, and eventually end up at the steps of the music college. My Alma Mata. The entrance is shaped like a harp with the doors between the strings, each one opening into separate tutorial rooms. I choose the one between the e and f strings and wait for it to recognise me as a friend. Ex pupils are always welcome into the building, and the door opens. The inside is bigger than would appear from the pavement. Disappearing into the distance are open booths in which within each stands a Yamaha grand. The booths although open are soundproofed. In some pupils are being tutored. No sound comes out. I walk down the line until I reach my old practice space, it is empty and I can't resist entering and opening the lid of the piano. The keys gleam invitingly. I sit down and play a blues that I wrote when I was a student. It is a simple 12 bar with scope for improv. I play with my eyes shut and remember my days here. I was such an innocent. A virgin in every sense. I change the time signature to waltz time and just let the music play itself, as it can do if I am in the right mind set. This is freedom. No IGBI, no IGBA, no fucking initials acronyms, prosed bodies or guns. Just me and a piano. It can't last.