Birth of Adam (Artificial Intelligence Book 2)

by Liza O'Connor

  Adam, can you read my mind? she asked in her head.

  When Adam didn’t reply, she concluded he couldn’t.

  At the end of dinner, Simon thanked Sondra for cooking such a delicious meal and kissed both Andrew and Sondra on their cheeks. Martin received a pat on the head, and Amanda received two cheek-kisses and a kiss on the lips.

  “Enjoy the opera tomorrow,” he advised as he left the house.

  She wanted to ask how he knew about the opera, but he was already down the steps, so she closed the door and congratulated Martin on his three “brilliants”.

  ***

  Early the next morning, dressed in a chic black dress with matching hat, Amanda came downstairs to find Monsieur Bastion reviewing her composition.

  He glanced at her, then did a double take. “My dear, you look quite magnificent.”

  Over breakfast, he grilled her on her composition. How long had she been working on it? How had she selected the instruments? What had inspired her?

  When the clock chimed seven, she thought the interrogation was over, but as Andrew drove them to the French Opera House, he continued prodding her about the number and length of compositions she had written, how long she had been writing, and who had taught her.

  She had almost forgotten her Russian teacher, and Adam had to feed her most of the answers.

  Bastion then shocked her to the core.

  “My dear, despite the beauty of your voice, I think you should concentrate on composition. Jules will no doubt disagree.”

  “Can I not do both?”

  “No,” he replied. “To reach your potential, you must focus.”

  “Well, given I have a contract with Jules, for the present I guess my focus must remain on singing.”

  His hands clenched with agitation. “I wish it were not allowed for students to sign an agent before they have finished their education. I understand in the case of Hammer. He needs a profession that pays. But you clearly do not. You should do what you do best.”

  “And you think that is composing?”

  “I think what you have composed in a few days is exceptionally fine.

  “But it’s only four minutes long,” she reminded him.

  “Which is why you need the time to focus solely on composition and determine whether your brilliance has the endurance to write an entire opera.”

  “I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” she admitted.

  “Exactly my point. Composing is far more challenging than singing, but your education, to date, has focused on vocals. I am amazed you were able to write even four minutes of perfection.”

  ***

  With the interrogation behind her, Amanda enjoyed the opera more than ever. She now listened to the composition of the music, noticing details such as how the composer interweaved repeating strands throughout the three-hour opera; how he used the music to amplify the performance of the characters; and how he remained so faithful to the emotions that the words became almost irrelevant.

  When the first act ended, Bastion asked what she thought.

  “I think it’s the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard.”

  “The tenor was strident in the first scene,” he growled.

  “I’m sorry, I was focused on the music. The tenor was strident and behind the beat in his duet with Antoinette. Antoinette should sing more softly at the beginning of her cry to God. The orchestra was perfect, but she pushed too hard. The lighting...am I allowed to comment on the lighting?”

  “Go ahead,” he replied with a smile.

  “The lighting in the garden was so dark I couldn’t see which man was singing and so I pulled myself from the opera and began a Where’s Waldo? search for the singer.”

  “Where’s Waldo?”

  “It’s a crowded picture book that contains a character named Waldo, and he’s devilishly hard to find.”

  “Ah! Where’s Wally. Anything else?”

  “The lovers’ scene was perfect, and the ending of act one was very powerful, but it was so loud that it actually hurt my ears. My ears would prefer the higher-pitched instruments to pull back a bit.”

  Bastion turned to look at someone seated in the row behind them and handed him his own notes. “Now you have two identical opinions as to what needs to be fixed in act one—except I had not commented on the lighting, but Miss Carrington is correct—I was searching for the singer in the dark.”

  “That was my intention,” the man replied.

  “If your intention is to rip the audience from the blissful soul of the music so you can confound them with trickery of lights, you have succeeded beautifully. I am certain they will not mind that half so much as your intention to permanently deafen those seated in the first fifty rows.”

  The man skimmed through his notes. He then looked up at Amanda and introduced himself as Jacque du Clair. “I appreciate your comments, Miss Carrington, and while in general agreement with Bastion, your tone was more polite and the explanations more helpful. I hope you are planning to stay and critique the remaining two acts?”

  Bastion answered before she could open her mouth. “Assuming you can finish this torment before five. Miss Carrington has a dinner engagement.”

  “But you can stay longer?”

  “No, I cannot, for I have the same dinner engagement!”

  Jacque’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he gave Amanda another look. “Well, this is a surprise.”

  “Either begin act two or we shall leave now,” Bastion warned him.

  While the music remained strong throughout the next two acts, the performances were flawed, and a few of the singers lacked the skill to sing their parts.

  When Bastion took him to task, Jacque agreed with his assessment. “I absolutely agree, but the fault lies in the composition. Such challenging pieces should not go to minor roles. There are very few singers who have the skill for these two arias, and those who do are all divas and would not consider doing them.”

  “Nonsense, you simply haven’t tried.”

  “You’ve no idea how hard I’ve tried. I’m sorry, Bastion, but the pieces must be cut from the opera.”

  “You will not butcher this opera!” Bastion insisted. “If you are unable to acquire appropriate talent, then allow me to do so. I can find you voices capable and willing to sing those pieces.”

  “We are two weeks from opening night!”

  “Yes, you have been terribly slow in admitting you required help, but no matter—I will have you sufficiently skilled voices by Monday.”

  “If you bring me two singers who can perform these pieces even tolerably well, I will gladly accept them. Otherwise, I am cutting them out, and that is final.”

  “Agreed.”

  Bastion led Amanda to the car. Once inside, he called Jules Bavard.

  “Jacque du Clair is going to butcher Le Fromme unless I can provide him sufficiently skilled singers to sing the minor roles of Louis and Carmella... I do... I am... There is no acting required. The roles were written specifically to showcase skilled voices who lacked either the education or the talent to act... Two weeks... Anon and Amanda.”

  Amanda could hear Jules’ voice screaming at the shortness of time.

  “Well, we are all in agreement. I will prepare them this weekend, and Jacque will decide on Monday. While they will not have mastered the pieces by Monday, I have no doubt they will pass the hurdle, and I assure you they will be ready by the first performance.”

  Bastion was evidently losing patience with Jules. “I have no interest in your publicity and marketing problems. Had I been aware Jacque had been unable to fill these roles, I would have suggested this earlier. Instead, I arrived today to listen to God-awful screeching and Jacque declaring he has no choice but to amputate the two most beautiful pieces of the opera. If you do not allow this, I will never forgive you, and never allow any musician who has signed with you to step foot in my school again.”

  That threat evidently quieted Jules, because Amanda couldn’t hear his voice a
nymore.

  “You may come on Monday, but not before. I do not want you interfering with training. I need every minute we have.”

  He hung up. “I am sorry, my dear, but our dinner plans must be cancelled, and I require your absolute focus. Can you do that?”

  “I’m going to sing Camille?” she asked in happy shock.

  “Yes, and you are going to sing it as Don intended his aria to be sung,” he assured her. “Whatever you have planned for tomorrow, cancel it as well. We will focus on nothing else until you have perfected the piece.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Amanda convinced Bastion that she had to eat or she’d never survive the long, arduous night he had planned for her. Instead of returning to the school, she suggested they meet at her house and dinner could be served to everyone he invited.

  To her relief, he agreed, declaring it the perfect place to practice.

  Sondra took the news dinner was now for ten people quite well. In fact, Sondra seemed already to have known of the change. Amanda wondered if Adam or Andrew had told her.

  She suspected it had to have been Adam, because she doubted Andrew had realized what monsieur was planning before she had. However, Adam always seemed a step ahead.

  When they arrived home, her house was filled with people. She recognized everyone except for two men—a young man warming up his voice and an older man instructing him. The other three attending were Simon, her music theory professor; Richart, her vocal instructor; and Pinchot, her composition professor.

  She had initially wondered why a master composer and a music theorist were required. After an initial sight-read of the entire aria, which she mangled horribly, she was very glad for their assistance and listened attentively as they helped make sense of the complex masterpiece.

  The young man’s name was Anon, and his expression had been noncommittal until she sang. Now he held her in contempt and disdain. Thus, she decided to ignore him altogether. There was no reason she needed to be friends with Anon the arrogant. Their pieces were separate.

  Pushing Anon from her mind, Amanda focused on Simon and Pinchot’s advice. After a long lecture, she sang the piece again. While better, it remained horribly flawed, and she was grateful when Andrew announced dinner. She noticed only seven plates had been set. When she looked at Andrew, he shook his head with firm intensity, and she gave in. She doubted they wished to sit with a group who would speak of nothing but music theory.

  To her surprise, some of their lectures went to Anon, and this angered him greatly. On several occasions he insisted he knew the piece very well.

  His instructor gripped his arm and whispered harsh words into his ear. Anon apologized and requested Simon to continue his lecture.

  Anon’s insincerity was impossible to ignore, and Simon looked as if he were going to stop his lecture, but Bastion declared young talent was often foolish. Simon sighed and repeated his point.

  Even though his comments were addressing Anon’s piece, Amanda listened intently and interrupted him once with a question. Before Simon could answer, Anon snapped at her. “Quiet! This is not your concern.”

  Simon smiled at her. “Excellent question, Amanda.” He then explained it to Anon.

  When Sondra asked if they would like dessert, Bastion asked her to hold it for a few hours.

  Returning to the music room, Anon sang his piece again. Amanda felt put to shame. Despite the young man’s obnoxious personality, he definitely had the skill to match his arrogance. While not perfect, he was far superior to the singer she had heard that afternoon at the opera house and greatly beyond her own sad abilities.

  Bastion was not nearly as impressed and yelled at him for his miserable performance.

  “I’m a thousand times better than her!” Anon insisted, thrusting his finger in Amanda’s direction.

  “This is not a competition! Your goal is perfection, and you are far from the mark,” Bastion snapped. “What have you been doing for the last month? Other than a swollen ego, I perceive no improvement at all!” He glared at Anon’s instructor as he said this, evidently holding the man to blame.

  “He can do it better,” the man assured Bastion, then glared at Amanda as if it were her fault Anon wasn’t singing perfectly.

  “Is it your belief Amanda is hampering Anon’s performance?”

  “Yes!” Anon and his instructor replied in unison.

  “She isn’t ready for such a role,” Anon added. “She will taint my performance.”

  “Very well. Tomorrow you two will practice apart. “Michel, you, Pinchot and Anon will train in the vestibule while Richart and Simon remain here with Amanda.

  “No! She will train in the vestibule and I will train here!” Anon insisted. “Why should she be provided the better space?”

  “Because this is her home, and you are most fortunate she has not thrown you out tonight. Had I been in her situation, you would have been gone before dinner,” Bastion replied.

  He then took in a deep breath. “Now go home and rest your voice from your tirades. Clearly you are in no mood to work tonight. However, be warned, Anon, if you do not show marked improvement tomorrow, you will not audition on Monday.”

  “What about her?” he demanded.

  “Amanda is not your concern. Her fate depends entirely upon her ability to perfect this music.”

  Evidently satisfied that meant she would not be auditioning, Anon and his instructor left the house.

  Amanda improved markedly now Anon was gone. The fact annoyed Bastion greatly.

  “You cannot allow arrogant fools to lessen your performance,” he chided. “There will always be an Anon, either on stage or in the wings. You must trust and protect your gift. Do not let them diminish you!”

  “I will try,” she promised him.

  “Do not try! Make certain!”

  “My problem is that I was certain he hadn’t diminished me. I thought I had successfully put him out of my mind. I was not distracted or unsure of myself. I believed I was doing my very best, but clearly I was not, given I sang the song much better this time.”

  “Bastion, it is possible Amanda sang better because she improves each time she sings it,” Simon suggested.

  “Sing it again,” Bastion ordered.

  A new level of pressure overwhelmed her. If she failed to improve, Bastion would declare her susceptible to other singers’ contempt, and if that were the case, there would be no hope for a career in music.

  She smiled as she realized that would mean she would have to become a composer, and with such a pleasant alternative career ahead, she relaxed and focused on singing the piece to perfection. While the song was impossibly challenging, now that she understood what the composer wanted to achieve, she found it easier to sing. She focused on the intent and trusted her voice to hit the complex ripple of notes up and down the scale.

  When she’d finished, her audience remained silent. Finally, Bastion approached her and kissed her on the lips. “Simon is correct. You are improving with each attempt. That was most beautiful.” He breathed in with satisfaction. “Let us celebrate with dessert and wine.”

  Bastion went down into the wine cellar while Amanda let Sondra know they were ready for dessert. When the headmaster returned, he insisted Sondra and Andrew join them and promised not to talk too much about music.

  He lied, of course. After toasting Amanda as the next Camille, he discussed all the flaws she still needed to fix. Simon and Richart added more of their own.

  Finally, Sondra came to her rescue, reminding them Amanda had sung beautifully.

  “She did indeed,” Bastion said. “I would not have thought it possible had she not sung the Pion composition so well on a first sight-read without piano accompaniment.”

  Richart nodded in agreement. “It was most humbling for the other students.”

  Amanda reached over and squeezed Sondra’s hand in thanks for her intervention. She then looked at Bastion. “You do realize I’m going to sing decidedly worse because of th
is wine?” She finished her glass before anyone could reconsider the wisdom of her having wine.

  Bastion laughed and replenished her glass. “We are done for the night. You’ve accomplished far more than I anticipated this evening. Working through tomorrow, I have no doubt you will astound everyone at your audition on Monday.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Andrew woke her at five in the morning and announced that her professors had returned and demanded their student.

  “Send Martin,” she muttered, and buried her head beneath the pillow.

  “Breakfast will be served downstairs, but I have brought you a perfect cup of tea.”

  She sat up and held out her hands for the tea. After a few sips, she smiled. “Tell them I’ll be down shortly.”

  She wanted to wear sweats, but Adam insisted she wear a red silk dress.

  “Why?” she asked. “Am I supposed to seduce my professors?”

  “Despite their natural preference, you do seem to have an effect on them, but that is not the reason I want you well dressed. I anticipate Jules will stop by.”

  “But Bastion forbade him to.”

  “Anon left him a very long and complaining message last night, which should guarantee he’ll show up today. I’ve told Sondra to expect an extra person for lunch.”

  “Why do I need to look so pretty for Jules? He should only care about my voice.”

  “Jules is only interested in beautiful talent. That means beautiful voice and beautiful body. He understands marketing talent better than anyone. The red dress will remind him why you are worth all this trouble.”

  “Am I causing him trouble?” she asked in surprise.

  “Nothing he can’t handle,” Adams assured her. “Just wear the red dress and everything will be fine.”

  All three men stopped talking when she descended the stairs, wearing her red dress and heels.

  “You do remember we are working on your music all day?” Bastion asked.

  “I do,” she assured him. “I just thought I should dress up and wear heels in preparation for tomorrow’s audition. It wouldn’t do to discover I can only sing in flats.”