Noise
Disappear
Orrin felt the floor beneath him shift under his feet and heard his heart begin to pump rapidly.
"Wh-why not?" he stammered.
"Because I'm afraid that there is no instrument for you."
"But Elder, there must be some mistake, everyone specializes to an instrument, even the string makers and tuners are halfway there!"
"Yes, well, there have been cases of one not specializing, though very rare."
"How many?" he questioned, chocolatey eyes trained steadily on the polished floor, afraid to hear the answer.
"One."
"And..wh-what happ-p-pened to them?" Orrin stuttered, almost too afraid to ask.
The teacher sighed again before answering, "He dissappeared."
Orrin looked up just as the golden door was pushed open, revealing the scrawny boy he'd bumped into earlier on his way to class. Shuffling up to the desk, the boy nervously handed Elder Julien a sheaf of notes.
"I looked over them and found a better way to join these two measures here, but that was all, Elder," mumbled the boy, his eyes flitting around the room and refusing to meet Orrin's or anyone else's.
"Thank you Lex," said Elder Julien, walking around the desk to place his arm around Lex's shoulder, "Orrin, this is Lex, my star percussionist."
Orrin nodded to him; Lex looked uncomfortable, embarrassed by his teacher's praise.
"I'm hardly a s-star," he stuttered, "I can see I was interrupting, I'll just be on my way."
"Nonsense," the Elder said, trying to call back the lanky, nervous student, but he had already hurried out of the tension-coated room.
Elder Julien turned to face Orrin once again, his expression serious.
"Orrin, I strongly advise you to find your instrument as soon as possible. You may go."
This is not good, Orrin decided as he was dismissed to return to the Main Building for lunch. He had to find his instrument, and fast. His sixteenth birthday was almost upon him, and if the day came and passed without some sort of musical device finally coming forth and connecting with him, he was in serious trouble.
The soundwaves that powered the isolated metropolis didn't come from out of thin air; people had to create them. He and his classmates were the future of the city's survival, and it seemed as if everyone had already found their musical forte; Piper had connected with a shiny mahogany cello in the strings room several months ago and was waiting for her own birthday to arrive and make it official.
He was so caught up in his frantic train of thought that he almost passed the gigantic pair of double doors that opened into the Main Building. He gripped one of the cold, granite handles and heaved his weight against it, shoving the door open. Orrin made his way over to one of the long tables and plopped into his regular spot next to Piper on the long benches, sighing hard.
"What's your malfunction?" she questioned as she poked at her unidentifiable meal with a fork.
"I'll tell you later," he grunted before digging into his own plate of food, hurrying to finish before he was made late to yet another class.
She nodded understandingly, and they ate the rest of their lunches in silence until a chiming bell sounded, signalling the second half of the day's classes had begun. Orrin struggled to pay attention to Elder Stephan as he rambled on about some ancient pianist, but he was even more distracted than usual by the new discovery that he might just possibly end up the same way as that one nameless boy from the past. He might just possibly disappear.
"Wh-why not?" he stammered.
"Because I'm afraid that there is no instrument for you."
"But Elder, there must be some mistake, everyone specializes to an instrument, even the string makers and tuners are halfway there!"
"Yes, well, there have been cases of one not specializing, though very rare."
"How many?" he questioned, chocolatey eyes trained steadily on the polished floor, afraid to hear the answer.
"One."
"And..wh-what happ-p-pened to them?" Orrin stuttered, almost too afraid to ask.
The teacher sighed again before answering, "He dissappeared."
Orrin looked up just as the golden door was pushed open, revealing the scrawny boy he'd bumped into earlier on his way to class. Shuffling up to the desk, the boy nervously handed Elder Julien a sheaf of notes.
"I looked over them and found a better way to join these two measures here, but that was all, Elder," mumbled the boy, his eyes flitting around the room and refusing to meet Orrin's or anyone else's.
"Thank you Lex," said Elder Julien, walking around the desk to place his arm around Lex's shoulder, "Orrin, this is Lex, my star percussionist."
Orrin nodded to him; Lex looked uncomfortable, embarrassed by his teacher's praise.
"I'm hardly a s-star," he stuttered, "I can see I was interrupting, I'll just be on my way."
"Nonsense," the Elder said, trying to call back the lanky, nervous student, but he had already hurried out of the tension-coated room.
Elder Julien turned to face Orrin once again, his expression serious.
"Orrin, I strongly advise you to find your instrument as soon as possible. You may go."
This is not good, Orrin decided as he was dismissed to return to the Main Building for lunch. He had to find his instrument, and fast. His sixteenth birthday was almost upon him, and if the day came and passed without some sort of musical device finally coming forth and connecting with him, he was in serious trouble.
The soundwaves that powered the isolated metropolis didn't come from out of thin air; people had to create them. He and his classmates were the future of the city's survival, and it seemed as if everyone had already found their musical forte; Piper had connected with a shiny mahogany cello in the strings room several months ago and was waiting for her own birthday to arrive and make it official.
He was so caught up in his frantic train of thought that he almost passed the gigantic pair of double doors that opened into the Main Building. He gripped one of the cold, granite handles and heaved his weight against it, shoving the door open. Orrin made his way over to one of the long tables and plopped into his regular spot next to Piper on the long benches, sighing hard.
"What's your malfunction?" she questioned as she poked at her unidentifiable meal with a fork.
"I'll tell you later," he grunted before digging into his own plate of food, hurrying to finish before he was made late to yet another class.
She nodded understandingly, and they ate the rest of their lunches in silence until a chiming bell sounded, signalling the second half of the day's classes had begun. Orrin struggled to pay attention to Elder Stephan as he rambled on about some ancient pianist, but he was even more distracted than usual by the new discovery that he might just possibly end up the same way as that one nameless boy from the past. He might just possibly disappear.