— that here’s um, yes here’s one he wrote to a girl cousin about the time he was writing his Paris symphony he says, he apologizes to her for not writing and he says Do you think I’m dead? Don’t believe it, I implore you. For believing and shitting are two very different things…
— Did you, did I… hear that?
The cameras heaved patiently. — You find the sound systems on these commercial receivers are pretty uniformly poor…
— um, his um playful sense of humor yes he tells her you wouldn’t be able to resist me much longer and our arses will, will um, will be the symbols of our peacemaking and then he, then he tells her down here about an imaginary village called Tribsterill where the, where the muck runs down to the sea…
— It’s that switch on the left yes the one that says off, turn it off, off…
— village called Burmesquik where the crooked arseholes are manufactured and um, in the um, his um playful sense of humor yes we, it shows us what a really human person this great genius was doesn’t it boys and um, and girls and, and you you, single child out there his letters help you, help make him somebody you can understand too…
— No on the left Congressman, the one on the left…!
— Sorry… Gibbs recovered an elbow from the maze of camera straps where he hung over the back of the sofa staring at the blur on the screen abruptly cropped across chin and hairline, replaced by an American flag, a vista of redwood forest, the music rising as though to carry off the voice.
— to humanize him because even if we can’t um, if we can’t rise to his level no at least we can, we can drag him down to ours…
— See what I mean, there’s too much bass in these commercial sets… and the foot was withdrawn as Hyde tripped over it on his way to the set where Mister Pecci stood with a control knob that had just come off in his hand.
— what the um, what democracy in the arts is all about isn’t it boys and girls and, and you, you…
— Wait, hello? I said get Mister Leroy right in here to make a small repair hello? Don’t put any more calls through on this line…
— An interesting effect… Mrs Joubert’s face peered from the screen over Hyde’s shoulder — but their synch is off… and a white-maned man erect in bed, a white-maned man seated in a wicker chair, a white-maned man in plaster replica passed in rapid sequence. — Sounds like a crossed wire there… and words and music were restored abruptly over the image of a giant redwood tree.
— of America’s beloved humorist whose real name wvrrrrrk fairy tales boys and girls like, like Franz Schubert dying of typhus at thirty-two yes or, or Robert Schumann being hauled out of a river so they could cart him off to an asylum or the, or Tchaikowski who was afraid his head would fall off if…
— Do something pretty fast where the, God damn it! came from under the planter where Hyde sought the plug on hands and knees.
— You’re in trouble when your music level is up so high it fights the voice like this…
— tell you about our favorite American composer sitting on the floor cutting out paper dolls, Edward Mac…
— Can you ahm, yes can you pull the plug just pull the plug…
— What the… hell do you think I’m… trying to… came from the shadows behind the set where now a biceped Valkyrie bearing a dead warrior aloft gave way to an amazon Brünnhilde in massive concentric breastplates as the voice rose to challenge the stabbing rondo of the D-minor piano concerto of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
— fairy tale isn’t it, that his life was a fairy tale that’s the real fairy tale isn’t it and in um, yes in the singalong to end our fairy tale today we can um, maybe we can find some of his own words in a letter for, to sing along with Amadeus Ah, muckl Sweet wordl Muckl chuckl
— You’d better watch your recordings on this open-circuit broadcasting you know. Royalty problems… The telephone rang. The door opened, closed, opened again to admit Mister Gall with the final allegro, assai.
— muckl suck, oh charmante, muck, suckl That’s what I likel Muck, chuck and suckl Chuck muck and…
An expletive broke from under the window planter as the sound cut off, leaving the screen filled with a face perspiring with silent imperative until the reassuring countenance of Smokey Bear restored one faltering note and then another of song.
— a laughing place, to go, hol hol
— Sen, Congressman? It’s for you, it’s Parentucelli…
— Who… Gibbs muttered immobile, eyes returning the fixity of the ursine stare from the screen — just who, exactly, was that.
— to go hol hol
— That, yes, well, the young com, ahmposer in, yes in residence, composer in residence from the Foundation. Placed with us by the Foundation that is, in the, an in-depth pilot program in the arts, that is to say a grant. Maybe Mister Ford can explain it more, more in depth?
— hol hol
— No, no, quite a different administrative area, Mister Ford sprawled easily. — Only about three percent of the Foundation’s budget goes on the arts, after all.
— A quarter, they want a quarter a yard maybe we get them down to twenty-two, twenty-three cents, Mister Pecci’s voice reached in. — No, it’s Flo-Jan. The Flo-Jan Corporation, that’s f, l, o…
— Did I miss something? Mister Gall appeared with his pencil.
— Technical difficulties creep in, trouble with their framing there a few times and they need some practice with their lenses but once you’ve got good hardware that’s all it takes. Practice.
Behind him Gibbs came slowly erect against the wall. — You can’t fault us on hardware, he said turning, as they all did, to Mister diCephalis’ entrance. — What goes into it, of course…
Gall wrote software? and waited, as Mister diCephalis with some effort pushed the frail door closed behind him to have it bob open again for Mister Leroy in his boxing shoes carrying a pail which he set down. — The control knobs here, Whiteback started as Leroy closed in silently, indicating the pail with a theatrical glance. — Well don’t, don’t bring it in here, don’t… just get rid of it! it’s not why I called for you, I just want you to fix the knobs on this set…! And they parted for Mister Leroy moving between them with his smile, fitting the knobs back on, pocketing his screwdriver and leaving the screen awash with a rain of dollar bills. — Yes now here we, wait you’re not leaving? Because we ahm, this lesson in sixth grade social studies yes we wanted you to see this lesson in terms of structuring the ahm… and his pastel flurry indicated a map of the United States mounting in distended animation toward the templed splendor of the Stock Exchange to disappear in a whirr of lines, — opening with this resource film…
— Lost their loop, Mister Ford obliged rising in his maze of cameras.
— But you both ahm, Mister Gall yes you might want to see this next lesson in terms of a good deal less ahm, less unplanlessness than the one we’ve just…
— No I meant to ask though, that line over the main entrance here? in Greek? I thought, is it Plato? or…
— someone to tell us what we mean by our share in America…?
— Yes well Mister Gibbs here might ahm, here she is now… he waved at Mrs Joubert’s image as though she might wave back.
— You might try Empedocles.
— Oh…? he juggled papers, book, pencil. — that’s e? m…?
— And if you could stay for the next studio lesson? came between them, — a re, resource program on, silkworms…
— I think it’s a fragment from the second generation of his cosmogony, maybe even the first…