Flow of the Nocturn
How long I lay there, blacked out, was anybody’s guess. If that anybody didn’t happen to be an android.
I slowly opened my eyes. The pain in my arm was dull, but still present. I sat up; the android was still looking at me intently.
“Am I really that interesting?” I asked dryly. He continued to watch me. I shook my head. “Not supposed to assoiciate with the subject, right?” No answer. “Fine! Be that way!”
I sounded like a child, but what could I do? I was beginning to lose it.
I looked at the switchboard again. The buttons seemed to be arranged like a piano keyboard. I quickly counted; eighty-eight. I so wanted to play it like a piano, but I had no idea what might happen if I did.
I shot a pleading look at the android. He returned a curious one back at me. Finally, he seemed to understand. He flipped a small switch, & nodded.
I hadn’t played in days, so I was a bit rusty. But that didn’t stop Chopin’s C-sharp nocturn from flowing through my fingers.
The android stared at me, astounded.