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  ——energy still locked in the vast shale oil deposits beneath thousands of barren mountain peaks jutting from the sea of the public domain, two thirds of the stete of Utah . . .

  —Structuring the material in terms of the ongoing ahm, situation yes, on Mozart’s, ah, Ring, is it?

  —I noticed something here . . . Mister Ford spoke for the first time with the commanding indifference of an old-school drawl, running his finger down a catalogued list—here, The Rhinegold is it?

  —Oh, you have one of our schedules, we . . . having trouble locating one, this use of, utilization of . . .

  —Schepperman?

  —Schepperman? Yes well he, ahm, it was his idea originally. This doing this Ring, before he, before we replaced him. He, ah, painted, taught painting, that was before we replaced him of course, a little trouble over the loyalty oath provision . . .

  —Little? Mister Pecci repeated, opening pinstripe over his glittering tieclasp in a campaign gesture.—Like being a little bit pregnant, eh?

  —Yes well of course the, on the cultural aspect of the arts we have a studio teacher now, Whiteback came on at the brightness control,—a video personality that motivates a really meaningful learning experience in these youngsters . . .

  ——Everybody has a laughing place, to go, hol hol

  The face of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart shimmered on the screen.

  ——To go hol hol

  —Here she is now yes, I think she taped this audio part, introducing this, music appreciation this is, in terms of closed-circuit capabilities this . . .

  —In terms of tangibilitating the full utilization potential of in-school television . . .

  —Something for the pit and something for the gallery, murmured Mister Ford.

  —Making the artist really come alive for these youngsters. Humanizing them, the artists that is to say, motivating . . .

  —Warm bodies . . .

  ——Today, boys and girls . . .

  —Who’s that?

  —The Mozart. It’s . . .

  —No. The voice . . .

  ——fairy tale life of the composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Even his name, Amadeus, or in German, Gottlieb, means beloved by the gods . . .

  —Remind me to call him later, about the fire sprinklers, Whiteback inclined toward Hyde in undertone.

  —Call who.

  —Gottlieb, about the fire sprinklers.

  ——darling of the gods, this little Peter Pan of music who never really grew up, a real life fairy tale that takes us from the glittering courts of Europe to a scene in a great thunderstorm. There’s even a mysterious messenger of death in this tale, filled with magic and enchantment . . .

  —That’s not Dan, is it? the voice? muttered Hyde, as the camera shuddered down the spangle-decked embroidery of a sleeve to fingers drawn poised on a keyboard.

  ——apple cheeks, dressed in silks of lilac and gold, was barely seven years old when he played for the court in Vienna and the Emperor called him my little magician. In Naples the superstitious Italians even made him take off a ring he was wearing, to prove it wasn’t a magic ring that gave him his magical powers . . .

  And in response to a querulous growl from Mister Pecci the still picture on the screen gave way to a face staring directly at the viewers, glistening with perspiration.

  ——playing and composing music since the age of four. By the time he was fourteen Mozart had written sonatas, a symphony, even an opera . . .

  —This is our, our composer in residence, Whiteback blurted with what sounded like relief.—He’s been working with our ahm curriculum specialist she thought he needed, must have thought he needed exposure to the ahm, to do a very fine job of course we have you Foundation people to thank . . .

  ——rich people who commissioned work from artists and gave them money. Mozart wrote beautiful music for his patron until he left the Archbishop’s house to marry a beautiful girl named Constanze. Later Mozart told a friend, when my wife and I were married we both burst into tears, and that shows us what a really human porson this great genius really was doesn’t it boys and girls. His wife’s name Constanze means constancy, and she was constant to her dear childlike husband all the rest of his, of his, his cheap coffin in the rain that . . .

  —A little heavy on the talking face, came murmured from the heap of cameras on the sofa—and you want a little more spontaneity here where he’s shuffling pages around like that, come in close on the way his hands are shaking, it looks a little forced . . .

  ——the um, constant yes she, she constantly spent what little money they had on luxuries and she, she was constantly pregnant and she, finally she was constantly sick so you can see why she, why Mozart burst into tears when he married her. He was always the, this little darling of the gods he’d supported his whole family since he was a child being dragged around by his father and shown off like a, like a little freak . . .

  —He, he seems to be departing somewhat from the ahm, the . . .

  —They needed a stronger key light on that waist shot when he threw out the script, get across a lot more spontaneity without it . . .

  ——money, he wrote three of his greatest symphonies in barely two months while he was running around begging for loans wherever he . . .

  —Yes Miss ah, Miss Flesch will probably take over any minute she, it’s her program, studio lesson that is to say of course on our budget we can’t go all out on ahm, on these enrichment programs in music, just in music alone we’re already spending just on band uniforms alone . . .

  ——three more piano concertos, two string quintets, and the three finest operas ever written, and he’s desperate, undernourished, exhausted, frantic about money while his wife runs up doctor bills and he’s pawning everything in sight just in order to work, to keep working . . .

  —You’ve got to watch those hot lights on these close shots.

  —Yes he, he needs a haircut . . . and the full face on the screen dissolved to a wigged profile where the camera sought something of interest in the composer’s baleful eye.

  ——think he was childish, she was twice as childish and, and oh yes this mysterious stranger dressed all in gray who Mozart thought was a messenger of death, it was really just a messenger from a crackbrain count named Walsegg who wanted some music for his dead wife. He couldn’t write a requiem so he wanted to hire Mozart to, and then pretend he’d written it himself. What else could Mozart do? He’s sick, worn out, used up, he’s only about thirty-five and he’s been supporting everybody in sight for thirty years, but he sets to work again. He’s having trouble breathing, having fainting spells, he’s emaciated, his legs and hands swell up and he finally thinks somebody is trying to poison him that’s a, a real life fairy tale all right boys and girls, now the storm. It’s December, rain and sleet howling through the night. I’m already tasting death, he says, and shivers his lips in the, in a little drum passage from his requiem . . .

  —Sorry, if someone could tell me where the men, the boys’ room is . . .?

  —Out yes out to the right Mister Gall it’s ahm, it’s marked boys yes maybe we’ve all seen enough of this to ahm, in terms of structuring the material that is to . . .

  —What’s their camera there an Arri? Looks like they’ve got the wrong lens . . .

  ——spent about four dollars for his funeral but that, that might spoil our nice fairy tale boys and girls his few friends following the cheap coffin in the rain and turning back before it ever reached the pauper’s grave nobody could ever find again is, do you know what a pauper is boys and girls? It means a very poor person and and, yes and we don’t like to think about poor people no, no let’s try to remember this little, little unspoiled genius in his happy moments when he, when he um, yes when he wrote happy letters to people, yes . . .

  —I’d stay away from prop shots like this one too, they’re liable to pick up the book upside down.

  —Yes we’ve had ahm, had trouble with books yes . . .

  ——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 . . .

  —We’re yes we’re trying something new here the, combining the studio lesson with the classroom portion . . .

  —When limbs and parts of bodies were wandering around everywhere separately heads without necks, arms without shoulders, unattached eyes looking for foreheads . . .

  ——and that’s the difference between our country and Russia isn’t it class . . .

&n
bsp; —The youngsters themselves become part of the teaching process for a truly meaningful learning experience utilizing the ahm, the youngsters themselves . . .

  —Never read it? In the second generation these parts are joining up by chance, form creatures with countless hands, faces looking in different directions . . .

  ——and that’s what owning a share in a corporation means too doesn’t it, the right to vote, just like being an Am . . .

  —In the third generation of course you begin to get . . .

  —Yes well that doorway is ahm, I don’t think you need to bother with the inscription there Mister Gall it’s ahm, we’re having the whole thing replaced that is to say . . . and he seized a hand extended from the maze of camera straps for any who cared to take it.

  —That literature on closed-circuit systems I gave you there Mister Gall my card’s right in it there, Hyde, if you want any more inforlook! Wait look there’s my boy! the one, no that arm’s in the way. There, that’s his hand. See this boy in front in the diamond check sweater he’s right behind him, see the arm sticking up?

  ——while our volunteers count up our investment capital because our money isn’t doing anybody any good here, is it Money that isn’t out working and earning something is just like a lazy partner who . . .

  The door banged hollow. The telephone rang.—Better just take that phone off the hook and leave it Whiteback, you’re going to be flooded with calls from every jobless welfare retired freeloading jackass in the district who sits home and . . .

  —But my office, my office is calling me back, said Mister Pecci through gum,—on this proposition thirteen . . .