musicians of old

Chapter 971 Song of the Earth (6)

"salute!!--"

In Janus San Porto, the former square where the Harvest Arts Festival closed, huge flags still flutter in the night wind, overlooking the sleeping city. At this moment, two honor guards beside the flagpoles begin to untie their ropes, their movements precise and even, without the slightest tremor.

"salute!!--"

At the northern polar border of Theorian, the cold wind tore at the flagpole ropes. Four policemen, bundled up like swollen bears, took off their gloves, their frozen red fingers untying the knots. The flags of the round table and the knife were lowered and quickly folded and put away by a team of investigators into a frosty metal box.

"salute!!--"

At the Southern Continent Frontline Construction Command Post, on this stormy night, the flagpole stood in the muddy courtyard, its surface bathed in the stark white light of searchlight. Raindrops pounded on the steps, creating a rapid, drum-like sound. Policemen struggled to pull the heavy, soaked flag rope. Once the flag bearing the words "Round Table and Knife" was lowered, the lined-up investigators picked it up and, led by the patrol chief, turned and ran. Their faces were soaked with an indistinguishable mixture of rain and something else.

"salute!!--"

"Salute!—" "Salute!—" "Salute!—"

Ultimately, the tops of the flagpoles in various locations were empty, leaving only bare metal tips pointing into the deep night sky.

After the ceremony, the arms were lowered one by one.

The discussion group, officially named "Discussion Group on the Investigation of Causes of the Spread of Abnormal Zones and Related Matters," has been disbanded.

It has completed its historical mission, and the Special Patrol Hall, as one of the mysterious official agencies of Theolion, may continue to exist for a long time, but it will no longer be related to the investigation of abnormal zone affairs, nor to the supervision, guidance and discovery of the art world.

Mystery is mystery, and art is art.

In some unseen places, in the layers between history and collective cognition, those fine, invisible metal nets have been "untied".

They transformed into thin, bluish-black threads, silently curling back into the depths of the new world, becoming a group of cold, coercive, but powerless "base symbols."

At this point, the steel plate inserted during the surgery has been removed. The steel plate was very important; it had to be there, but it also had to be removed.

They once supported the new world, but they will no longer soar above; the sky above belongs to "the path that is not counted by the three."

The Symphony Hall, the development section, concludes here.

The final chapter of "Das Lied von der Erde" enters the recapitulation section.

A memorial and farewell concert; the memorial has been completed.

This final recapitulation is not for Pogorelich, but for the singer himself.

The rhythm became more regular, with a clearer beat.

It has the rhythm of a funeral march, with the string patterns repeating constantly, bringing a sense of walking and speaking, but the tone is sad and desolate, like a lonely dusk, soaked in fog and rain.

Wang Wei, "Farewell".

I invited him to dismount and drink a farewell cup of wine.
And they asked him where he was going and why he had made that decision.

Miss Nightingale's voice became calm, eerily calm, as if she were recounting a farewell scene in the tone of an observer, as if she were reading a letter that she had read many times before, each syllable pronounced clearly.

He said, in his indistinct tone:

My friend! This is my destiny in this world.

It made me retreat to the deep mountains.

For a weary and lonely heart, find a rocky stratum to rest upon.

The flute played a melody that imitated birdsong, which represented the image of "deep mountains." The melody was joyful, and at first glance, it was so joyful that it felt "cruel."

But amidst these melodious and alternating bird calls, the band begins to construct an ascending line, with the strings climbing up layer by layer from the low register, adding new instruments at each level.

When they reached a high point, the brass instruments joined in, and the French horn played a warm melody.

After traversing the mountain rocks and clearing away the dark clouds, golden light appeared, and the scenery suddenly became expansive, transforming the gloomy C minor key into C major!

But I know that this lovely land...
It will always sprout green buds in spring and bloom again.
I know every corner of this land.
The sun will always rise above the horizon!

Miss Nightingale's voice reached its brightest point in the entire piece here, with an unprecedented clarity, as clear as if it had been washed by tears.

"I dismount to drink your wine, and ask you where you are going."

You say you are not content, so you will retire to the southern foothills.

"Go on, and ask no more questions; the white clouds stretch endlessly!"

Fanning offered his final, eternal message to the world.

“Forever! Forever!” Then, as an echo, Miss Nightingale’s voice resounded, and the tone of “forever” that had been used to conclude the “Eternal Feminine” section of the Eighth Symphony appeared once again.

The strings played a broad melody, and the glockenspiel struck out a transparent and flawless brilliance in the highest register. The musical patterns gradually simplified, becoming sextuplets, quintuplets, and triplets.
The girl continued repeating the same thing.

"forever."

The first time, the voice was full and resonant.

"forever."

The second time, the voice was softer.

"forever."

The third time, his breathing began to weaken.

"forever."

The fourth time, almost all that remained was airflow.

"forever."

The fifth time, her lips moved, but the sound was barely audible.

"forever."

The sixth time, it seems only the mouth movements were visible.

"forever."

For the seventh time, she shut her mouth.

The band continued, but the instruments were being removed one by one.

The brass instruments came out first, then the woodwinds, and then the percussion.

In the string section, the violins stop first, followed by the violas, cellos, and double basses.

Finally, only the glockenspiel in the very high register still retained some transparent reverberation.

The solemnity of lowering the flag, the austere farewell, the reconciliation of personal memories, the eternal solace of the earth, and the ultimate loneliness and love contained in the endless "eternity"—all these layers of emotions and information are perfectly carried and sublimated by the musical texture.

The bridge of the "path" is harmonized into a truly ideal state in this ultimate reconciliation and tranquil resonance.

A broader connection was achieved, and the collective will of the new world, extending outwards to permeate the "noon," incorporating the possibilities of more generations and years into the long river of history.

On the other side, this gathering point first points from 27 specifically selected cinemas to 9 others, thus reflecting the shift from the surface of the world to the flow of life.

Then, pointing from 9 to 3, this represents the transition from the migration to the Radiant Tower;

Then, the three towers point to the current performance venue, thus reflecting the journey from the Shining Tower to the dome, ultimately pointing to Fanning, the guide.

A smooth channel for resonance and observation has now been formed, awaiting only the final "opening" action of the guide.

The lingering sound swirled and lingered under the high dome of the theater, fading away and fading further.

But the sound of the glockenspiel made it seem as if "forever" had not truly disappeared, as if it were still there.

Stop at the boundary between sound and silence.

It will stay there forever.

Walter and Anne stood there, in the gradually brightening lights, one looking at the band, the other at the audience, their faces calm, expressionless, but their eyes were not focused on anything specific, but on the emptiness in the distance.

The lights were fully on.

People were still sitting there, motionless, as if they hadn't yet returned from that silence.

After a long time—maybe only a minute, maybe five minutes—the conductor turned around, faced the audience, and bowed slightly.

Fanning and An also bowed slightly.

The applause slowly "woke up," very softly, once, twice, as if testing the waters, before being caught by more hands.

The sound spread out, but no one stood up. The sound was neither enthusiastic nor subdued; it was like a confirmation, a confirmation that the music had ended, a confirmation that something enormous had happened.

There were no cheers, no whistles, only continuous, even, and restrained clapping sounds that echoed in the vast space, creating a sense of emptiness.

(End of this chapter)