Read The Metallic Muse for Free Online Page A

play his Tamper Cheese Com. Denton, his own anger evident in his flushed face, leaned forward and snarled something. The men around him stirred uneasily. Baque shifted to another Com, improvised some variations, and began to watch the circle of faces. Overlords of industry, science and business. It would be amusing, he thought, to make them stomp their feet. His fingers shaped a compelling rhythm, and they began to sway restlessly. He forgot his resolution to play cautiously. Laughing silently to himself, he released an overpowering torrent of sound that set the men dancing and brought Denton to his feet. He froze them in ridiculous postures with an outburst of surging emotion. He made them stomp recklessly, he brought tears to their eyes, and he finished off with the pounding force that Lankey called, “Sex Music.” Then he slumped over the keyboard, terrified at what he had done. Denton stood behind his desk, face pale, hands clenching and unclenching. “Good God!” he muttered. He snarled a word at his intercom. “Reaction?” “Negative,” came the prompt answer. “Let’s wind it up.” Denton sat down, passed his hands across his face, and turned to Baque with a bland smile. “An impressive performance, Mr. Baque. We’ll know in a few minutes— ah, here they are.” Those who had left earlier filed back into the room, and several men huddled together in a whispered conference. Denton left his desk and paced the floor meditatively. The other men in the room, including Hulsey, gravitated toward the bar. Baque kept his place at the multichord and watched the conference uneasily. Once he accidentally touched a key, and the single tone shattered the poise of the conferees, halted Denton in midstride, and startled Hulsey into spilling his drink. “Mr. Baque is getting impatient,” Denton called. “Can’t we finish this?” “One moment, sir.” Finally they filed toward Denton’s desk. The spokesman, a white-haired, scholarly-looking man with a delicate pink complexion, cleared his throat self-consciously and waited until Denton had returned to his chair. “It is established,” he said, “that those in this room were powerfully affected by the music. Those listening on the intercom experienced no reaction except a mild boredom.” “I didn’t call you in here to state the obvious,” Denton snapped. “How does he do it?” “We can only offer a working hypothesis.” “So you’re guessing. Let’s have it.” “Erlin Baque has the ability to telepathically project his emotional experience. When the projection is subtly reinforced by his multichord playing, those in his immediate presence share that experience intensely. The projection has no effect upon those listening to his music at a distance.” “And—visiscope?” “He could not project his emotions by way of visiscope.” “I see,” Denton said. A meditative scowl twisted his face. “What about his long-term effectiveness?” “It’s difficult to predict—” “Predict, damn it!” “The novelty of his playing would attract attention, at first. While the novelty lasted he might become a kind of fad. By the time his public lost interest he would probably have a small group of followers who would use
    the emotional experience of his playing as… a narcotic.“ ”Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all.“ The room emptied quickly. Hulsey paused in the doorway, glared hatefully at Baque, and then walked out meekly. ”Obviously you’re no nonentity,“ Denton said, ”but whatever it is you have is of no use to me. Unfortunately. If you could project on visiscope, you’d be worth a billion an hour in advertising revenue. Fortunately for you, your nuisance rating is fairly low. I know what you and Lankey are up to. If I say the word, you’ll never in this lifetime find a place for your new restaurant. I could have the Lankey-Pank Out closed down within an hour, but it would hardly be worth the trouble. If you can develop a cult for