The Time Has Come

Several years ago, after one more tragedy, one more senseless act of violence in the world, I encountered this poem as a song text.  

Surely the time for making songs has come  

Now that the Spring is in the air again.

Trees blossom though men bleed; and after rain 

The robins hop; and soon the bees will hum.

Long was the winter, long our lips were dumb. 

Long under snow our loyal dreams have lain. 

Surely the time for making songs has come 

Now that the Spring is in the air again.

The Spring!—with bugles and a rumbling drum! 

Oh, builders of high music out of pain, 

Now is the hour with singing to make vain 

The boast of kings in Pandemonium!

Surely the time for making songs has come!

The melody didn't really appeal to me, but the words wouldn't let me go.  I even wrote my own song using these words. Unfortunately, I can't find it now.  It's filed away somewhere.  But the song wasn't enough.  It also inspired a short story which fits into the world I've been building now for over 10 years with several different novels.  

The last few months have seen more violence and more hate, and  again, I am faced with the question of what I can do about it.  I can't change the world all by myself, but that doesn't mean my contributions to peace are useless.  It does mean that they are needed more than ever.  

A meme has been going around Facebook again with a quote from Leonard Bernstein.  You can read here about why he wrote it.  

We musicians, like everyone else, are numb with sorrow at this murder, and with rage at the senselessness of the crime. But this sorrow and rage will not inflame us to seek retribution; rather they will inflame our art. Our music will never again be quite the same. This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.

And today, my creativity is my contribution.  I have another song written that I will soon be posting, but until then, here is the short story.  It's not perfect.  There is still revising I would like to do. Because it is part of a larger collection, there may be elements that don't make a lot of sense out of that context, but I think the message still works.  And I need to share it now.  

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Jameson slowly, reverently closed the doors to the Master’s study.  Although the room was well furnished and filled with shelves and piles of books and music, it felt empty and dark.  Jameson sat at the chair behind the desk.  He couldn’t help feeling that he didn’t belong there.  This was the Master’s study.  This was the Master’s overstuffed chair and imported mahogany desk.  He was overcome with memories of the lessons he had had in that room with the Master.  It still seemed so unreal that he was really gone.  And even stranger to him was the fact that now this room was his.  Now he had to take on the responsibilities of the Master.  He was far too young for this.   The Music Master usually trained specifically for that role for many years.  Though he’d studied with the Master for most of his life, the Master had only recently revealed the secrets of the Guardians to Jameson.  How could seven months possibly give him the knowledge and experience he would need to face what lay ahead?  Would he be able to make the decisions that must be made?  

He opened the letter and read it once more.  He had always had a unique relationship with Holly O’Rourke.  She understood him in ways that no one else did.  And somehow, over the years, they had each known when the other needed encouragement. Could she have known that by the time her letter was delivered to him on Cronolin that the situation there would have deteriorated so drastically?  That the Master would be added to the list of the casualties of this horrible war on Cronolin? That Holly herself would lose her life in the “police action” that was ripping apart the Federation? 

Their communications had always used an economy of words.  This letter was no exception.  Just an excerpt from an ancient poem.  

“O builders of high music out of pain!
Now is the time with singing to make vain
The boasts of kings in pandemonium!
Surely the time for making songs has come.”

He laid the letter aside and setting his pen to the staff paper, began to battle the evil in the only way he knew how.  

Jameson should have felt safe in the Master’s study.  After all, he had just declared the school and the sanctuary neutral territory and both sides had agreed not to carry the fighting into these hallowed halls.  But the sounds of gunfire and bombs and people screaming in pain could not be pushed away.  It was real and it was right outside his window.  And although the leaders of both parties had agreed that this was neutral space, could they enforce it?  Would all of planet respect the treaty?  The official declaration should never even have had to be made.  The council chamber was the seat of the government of the people, but this place was the home of the soul of the people.  Jameson would never completely understand what had made that guerrilla force take over the building and publicly, brutally execute the Master.  But it had brought the first step towards possible peace.  People on both sides were appalled that the school had been violated and the Master killed, and almost immediately declared the school off limits and acknowledged Jameson as their next Master Guardian. That should have meant that Jameson could inspire his people to peace, but all it meant is that neither side would kill him, and that both sides wanted him to come out in support of their causes.  

Neutral was a horrible place to be.  Jameson knew that many people on the planet wished that they had never been pulled into this ugly war.  People envied his situation.  To sit in a warm, comfortable home without worrying that that next day might bring death.  But Jameson would have welcomed death, or a chance to fight for what he believed.  Unfortuately, as the neutral Master Guardian, all he could do was comfort those that came to the school for refuge.  

Each morning Jameson began his day by tending to the wounded children that had been brought to the school.  They should have been in hospitals, but the hospitals were frequent targets, and the mothers would not send their children to their deaths.  So they brought them here, to Jameson.  Every time he entered the room, he had to fight back the reflex of vomiting.  The stench alone was awful, but the sight of the wounded children was almost more than he could bear.  And what hurt him the most was that he couldn’t save all of them.  He did have some nurses and doctors that had come to help, but they didn’t have the equipment or supplies that they needed.  They had used every spare scrap of fabric they could find for bandages and blankets.  And still the children came.  Jameson was frustrated that so few people would help them.  They did regard the school as a neutral space.  Sadly, that also meant that neither side was willing to bring in supplies.  They claimed that they needed everything that they had to help their own.  Jameson would have to find a way to care for the children on his own.  

This morning, as he did each day, he found Sara, and asked where his services were needed most.  He began with the easy tasks first.  The far northeast corner of their makeshift hospital was where the children with the least serious wounds were housed.  And over the last few days, Jameson had seen their “least serious” category expanded to include almost all children whose injuries were not currently life threatening.  It broke his heart that he couldn’t heal them. Jameson moved through the ward, stopping every few feet to draw the children close to him.  He taught them how to raise their own healing energies. He helped them to help themselves.  It was all he could do.  Many would suffer permanent disabilities or horrible scars that they would carry with them for the rest of their lives.  But the other children needed him even more.

As he left the “least serious” ward, Jameson took a few moments to breathe and focus.  The next ward would be the most physically taxing work of his day.  He found the first child on Sara’s list.  He had seen Tommy a few days ago in the “least serious” ward.  The wound itself was not bad, but without the proper disinfectants and antibiotics, Tommy’s leg had developed gangrene.  Now Tommy faced loosing his leg.  Both his parents had been killed, and Tommy being only 10 himself, had taken on himself the task of caring for his younger sisters.  In a perfect world, they would have been placed in a foster home, but Jameson understood  the reality.  When they left the school/hospital, these children  would be returning to the streets.  Tommy would need that leg if he was to protect and care for his little sisters.  Jameson drew up all the energy he could and focused it on healing Tommy’s leg.  Jameson was not an empath, but he had learned much about the energy fields of the body, and in these desperate times, he had found a new talent and was able to help heal.  But it was not easy.  It was exhausting.  

As he left Tommy’s bedside, Sara met him with some food.  He hated the fact that eating that food meant that some of the children would have to go without, but Sara and the others had convinced him that what he was doing was more important for the children than the food.  But it still didn’t make it easy, and it didn’t take away the guilt he felt when he saw the hungry look in the little girl’s eyes when she wandered in while he was eating.  He checked to make sure Sara wasn’t watching, and then gave the girl the rest of his sandwich.  He had had enough.  He would have the energy he needed.  

He was headed to the second person on the list, when Sara called him into another room.  All that remained of the two year old’s arm was a bloody stump near the shoulder.  They could not stop the bleeding and had long ago run out of blood for transfusions. Jameson stopped the bleeding and helped reinforce the body’s natural healing processes. He wasn’t sure that that was enough, but it was all he could do for now if he wanted to help others today.  

After healing another dozen critical patients, Jameson took a few minutes to rest.  Somehow, Sara always knew where everyone was, and she always knew when Jameson needed her.  Like clockwork, she arrived after Jameson had meditated for 5 minutes.  She massaged his tired muscles and offered words of encouragement.  Then she left Jameson to his most emotional task of the day.  

The last ward was the one that children were taken to when nothing else could be done for them.  They came to this ward to die.  Jameson’s limited healing powers were useless here.  But he could ease their pain, and he could sit with them and love them as they died.  He had lost track of how many children had died in his arms.  It hurt more than anything else about this horrible war.  But he would not let these children die alone.  

Finally, exhausted and emotionally drained, Jameson left the hospital and went to the sanctuary.  It used to be a quiet place where he could go to find peace. It was no longer empty and quiet, but Jameson had found a way to find his peace and to help the people there.  As Jameson took hold of the harp, he remembered when Holly had taught him how to find the way out of darkness through music.  She was a good teacher.  She had told him that it wouldn’t always work, but it usually did for Jameson.  As his fingers moved across the strings, he felt the pain and fatigue melt away.  He was totally present in the music, and for a few moments, the war and devastation no longer existed for Jameson and the people in the sanctuary.  While he played, all the pain was gone, replaced by hope and peace.  That was the real reason this place was a refuge.  It wasn’t just about being safe from the bombs.  It was that momentary glimpse of hope and peace.

It had been on a day much like this one that Jameson had come up with his plan for peace.  If they could find a few moments of it when he played, perhaps as participants they could find even more and take it with them when they left.  

When Jameson once again felt peaceful and calm, he headed out towards his next task.  Nearly every day, representatives from the different factions requested meetings with him.  This day was no different from the rest.  He found five men in his waiting room, sitting quietly, each waiting for his opportunity to convince Jameson of how he could technically stay neutral and still help out their side.  Jameson, always watching for signs of peace, was struck by the irony of these five men sitting in the same room.  Anywhere else, they would have been at each other’s throats. But here, in neutral territory, waiting to see Jameson, they had managed to find a few moments without hostility.  Maybe Jameson could make a difference.  

At 8pm Sara knocked on the door of his study, and without waiting for an answer, walked in and announced that the Master had other matters to attend to and would have to finish up this discussion another time.  The men Jameson was meeting with seemed annoyed, but knew better than to fight this.  Word on the street was that Sara was one tough broad and even Jameson did whatever she told him to do.  After Sara escorted the men out of the building, she returned with a simple dinner for them to share.  She drew the curtains closed, blocking out the sights and sounds of the war outside.  This hour for dinner was often the only time they had alone.  It was also the only time that Jameson felt he could be completely himself.  

There was something different about Sara that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  He had sensed it the first time they met.  At first he thought that it was because she reminded him of Holly.  But that wasn’t really it.  As he got to know her better, he realized that she and Holly weren’t very much alike at all.  But the one thing they had in common was that he felt he could be totally open with both of them.  And that openness, that trust was difficult for him.  

Jameson had been a toddler the first time he met Holly, but he immediately recognized her as someone he could be safe with.  Feeling safe was rare in those first few years of his life.  Even when his parents looked like they were being nice to him, he frequently picked up on their thoughts of how much they hated him and wished he’d just go away.  And so one day he did.  His parents had frequently placed him in front of the computer when they didn’t want to deal with him.  It was the perfect baby-sitter.  While they thought he was playing those stupid, mind-numbing games that the famous educators of the day had recommended, he was learning far more than they had ever intended.  Had they ever bothered to do the IQ tests that were recommended for children his age to determine the proper way to school them, they would have seen that his IQ was off the charts.  He tapped into the Federation computer system accessing files available to no one but the Premier.  He was brilliant, but slightly naïve to believe that the Premier had no idea about what he was doing.  The Premier began planting files that would lead Jameson to the only place where his full potential could be recognized, a tiny planet, light-years away known as Cronolin.  When Jameson found out that Holly was going to Cronolin, he made all the necessary arrangements to go with her.  Well, most of the necessary arrangements.  There were a few strings left dangling, but the Premier quickly and quietly took care of those.  Jameson left his abusive home, and no one of any importance ever knew anything about it.  The year he spent traveling with Holly was the time in his life when he felt the most loved and understood.  That is, until he met Sara.  

Jameson tried to remember how long ago he had met her.  It seemed like ages ago, but it couldn’t have been.  The Master had introduced them just a few days before his horrible death, and that was only 3 weeks ago.  Three weeks! How could he know her so well and love her so much in only 3 short weeks?  Sara had trained with Holly before the accident, but afterwards her parents had refused to let her have any contact with Holly or anyone else that taught about the gifts.  But she knew she had gifts and that someday they would be needed.  So for years, she had hidden in her closet and explored her gifts as much as she could on her own.  One night, shortly after the war broke out, she had a dream.  But it was much more than a regular dream.  She knew that it was a message, a vision of her future.  And she knew that she had to find a way to get to the school and learn more about her gifts.  She had actually been at the school for 2 weeks by the time Jameson met her.  And in that time she had had numerous, intensive sessions with the Master.  Jameson had been out in the country helping the survivors of a village that had been bombed, but the Master made a special point of sending a messenger to have Jameson return so he could meet Sara.  The Master had a feeling that he wouldn’t be there much longer to continue Sara’s training.  He didn’t know why, but he knew that it was imperative that Jameson and Sara meet.  After the introductions, the Master spent hours with Jameson, going over the things he had taught Sara.  Jameson was used to the Master including him in the education of new students.  It was part of the training that Jameson would need if he was to become the next Master.  But there was an urgency in this case that none of them really understood at the time.

Sara was with the Master when they stormed the building.  When they heard the men approaching the study, the Master made her hide behind the draperies.  He took two bullets before one of the men suggested that it would be better for the people to see him die.  So they dragged him down the stairs and outside.  They decided to hang him.  As the men rigged a temporary gallows, Sara tried to get closer to the Master who was lying in the dirt.  But the mob was too thick.  And the fighting in the streets would not stop for one man’s execution.  

After seeing that all of his students were safely hidden away, Jameson made his way to the Master’s study.  As he saw the broken, beaten door and the bullet holes in the walls, he knew he was too late.  He got to the window just in time to see them taking down the Master’s body.  The face was horribly swollen and purple and didn’t even look like him.  But the stole he wore bore record that it could be no other.  The man that died was wearing the sign of the Guardians, the sign of the Master Guardian.  Jameson could not imagine a more horrific sight.  It was more than the death of a friend.  It was the death of the people’s hopes and dreams.  The Master Guardian’s job was to search for “the One”.  Did these people have no idea what they had done?  In their petty quarrels they had destroyed any hope they ever had of finding peace and greatness.   But the horror did not end with his death.  The crowd, the mobs that had temporarily stopped their fighting to watch the show, wanted more, so the men gave it to them.  They began by hacking off his head.  After a sickening thud, the head rolled off to the side.  But still the crowd wanted more.  The men tossed aside the annoying stole which was just getting in the way, and then they chopped up his body and threw the pieces into the crowd.    Jameson threw up and sank to the floor.  He stayed there until the roar of the crowd died down, until the streets were silent, until the darkness had hidden their horrible deeds.  As Jameson arose, he noticed someone huddled in the corner and heard her crying.  Her clothes were splattered with blood and she was holding a bundle of some sort.  At first he thought that it was a child.  Perhaps this woman’s child had been killed during the fighting and she had come in here to escape.  As Jameson got closer, he saw that it was Sara.  He sat down beside her to comfort her.  He sat there for several minutes before she finally stopped crying enough to talk.  And then all she could say was, “I couldn’t let one of them take it home as a trophy.” Then Jameson looked down and saw what the bundle was.  There wrapped in the Master Guardian’s stole was the head of the Master.  

About 3am, Jameson and Holly quietly snuck out to the gardens.  Near one of the Master’s favorite rose bushes, they dug a deep hole and placed the head inside.  The filled the hole and made sure that the ground looked as it did before their visit.  Then they went back to the study and went to sleep.  Jameson was worried about Sara, but in the morning she seemed OK, and threw herself into the work of caring for those people still left at the school.  Each day, her gifts blossomed as she used them to make the school run better.   They rarely talked about the events of that day and night, but somehow, what they had suffered together had made them grow closer and stronger.  And each day when Sara came for dinner, Jameson knew that as long as she was there, things would eventually work out.  

When Jameson and Sara finished eating, they gathered the dishes, returned them to the kitchen, and began their final rounds for the day.  As they walked, they made notes of things that needed immediate attention.  They encouraged the people they encountered.  And they talked about ways to end the suffering.  Their final stop was the hospital.  They checked on each child to make sure that he or she was sleeping peacefully.  If not, Jameson took a moment and used his gifts to help them sleep well.  And then he left Sara to her hospital and returned to the study to his work.  

He knew Sara would be upset if she knew how he was spending his nights.  She wanted him to rest, but every time he closed his eyes, he heard the screams, or saw the dying children, or relived the Master’s death.  Seven or eight hours of that left him worse off than when he worked through the night.  So each night he pulled out his staff paper and pens, and wrote down the music that constantly pulsed through his veins and gave him the strength to go on.  Sometimes it was music of peace and tranquility, like he felt when he played in the sanctuary.  Other times, it told of the horrible things that he had seen, that his people had experienced.  But always, by the first light of morning, the music had helped to center him and helped him to look forward with hope.  

Gradually, the late night composing started to creep into Jameson’s daytime schedule.  The children heard him humming a cheerful tune and wanted to know what it was.  When he explained that it was the melody of a song he was composing, they wanted to know the words.  They wanted to learn the song.  And so it was that the children became the audience at the premier of his greatest work.  The children learned well and shared the songs with others.  One day a man was in Jameson’s study and began to hum one of the tunes.  Jameson asked what it was.  The man replied that he really didn’t know.  His daughter had learned it from another child and would not stop singing it.  And now he was finding himself humming it frequently.  Jameson smiled.  It was only the beginning, but he knew that this music would change people.  It could end this senseless war.  

Jameson found that the music was also slipping into the time he spent with Sara.  Each of them played several different instruments, and after dinner they read through the latest of his compositions.  Of course, Sara didn’t know that he was giving up sleep to compose, or she would have put a stop to it early on.   One evening as they left the study, they were surprised to find several people sitting in the hallway.  They had come to listen.  Soon Jameson was involving them in the sessions.  He was careful to spend almost the entire hour with Sara, but then he would open the studio door and invite in who ever happened to be in the hallway that night.  Some nights they had a string quartet.  Other nights they sang in 8-part harmony.  Every night they left feeling more hopeful.  

But even with the rejuvenating effects of using his gifts to create the music, the lack of sleep began to be evident, especially to Sara.  When she confronted him about his low energy and poor health, he argued that what he was doing was important.  Couldn’t she see how it was affecting the people at the school?  Only when she reminded him that he was losing his effectiveness in healing the children, did he stop to consider resting.  But the sights and sounds he experienced when he closed his eyes were just too awful to endure.  Sara felt his fear and concern, but she thought she had a solution.  For weeks now, she had been watching Jameson help the children sleep.  One of her gifts was that she usually could figure out how to do something after watching it a few times.  She had tried with the children and knew that they were sleeping better.  She asked him to let her try her new gift.  Actually, she didn’t really ask.  She said she was going to do it whether he liked it or not, but his cooperation would certainly make it easier.  He could only laugh.  The word on the streets was correct.  She really did rule everything here.  Suddenly he was concerned.  He hadn’t slept in a long time.  What if when he finally did, he was out for a long time?  Could things go on without him?  Would someone assume that since he wasn’t available, the other side must have taken him out?  “Everything will be fine,” she said as she began the process.  Maybe it was just because he was getting so sleepy and she was speaking so tenderly, but he began to believe her, and then drifted off to sleep.  

He dreamed of Holly and saw the choice she had made in the hope of bringing peace.  She spoke to him and told him about the day she had looked into his eyes and knew that he was “the One”.  

He dreamed of the Premier and finally understood the role he had played in bringing Jameson to Cronolin.  The Premier told him that he alone held the power to unite his people.  

He dreamed of the Master.  At first it was disturbing dreams about his death, but then that melted away and the Master, whole, healthy, and very much alive stood before him.  He reassured Jameson, telling him that his death had not been painful.  He could not stop the men, but he could focus his own gifts enough that he would not feel the pain of what they did to him.  Jameson found great comfort in this.  It was still horrible, but at least the Master had not suffered.  

Then Jameson dreamed of Tiberius.  Tiberius did not speak to him directly, but Jameson sensed that he was sending energy his way.  Jameson saw himself and Tiberius, and another person he couldn’t identify standing on a hill.  They were looking across a burned and scarred valley, but as the sun rose they could see that people were already in the fields preparing them for planting.  Preparing for a new beginning.  

And then Jameson had a vision of how he could save his people.  He had known all along that it would involve this music that flowed freely from him and that he felt compelled to compose.  But now he saw the vehicle.  He saw the tools.  He saw what would actually need to happen to bring it to pass.  

A mere 36 hours was all Jameson needed to be able to awake refreshed and invigorated.  And from the moment he awoke, he ran.  He could not do enough fast enough.  He was patient with others, but held himself to a grueling schedule.  Sara still made him sleep occasionally, but a few hours was all he needed to be ready to tackle a new challenge.  

The composing was progressing at a remarkable rate.  Jameson had found 2 people to copy the parts for him and they could not keep up with how fast he could compose.  

There were still far too many children suffering and dying in their hospital, but the joy he radiated brought new hope and joy to everyone there.  

Jameson had finally convinced the warring parties to meet and discuss their issues.  He hosted and mediated the negotiations.  Surely they would find peace soon.

And then one afternoon, it fell apart.  One of the students found Sara in the hospital and said that something was very wrong with Jameson.  During the latest round of negotiations, he had suddenly stood up and demanded that everyone leave the room.  When they asked when they should return, all he said was, “Just go!” Jameson had then locked the door and for the last two hours had refused to open it, or talk to anyone.   

As far back as anyone could remember, the study door had never been locked.  Sara, was quite surprised that the antiquated lock still functioned.  Luckily, Sara had keys or access cards to everything in the building.  Since they hadn’t been signed out to her, technically she had stolen them.  But she used the rationale that in times like these it never hurts to be prepared and have access to whatever might be needed.  Sara tapped lightly on the door.  There was no response from inside.  The concerned friends and students in the hall each began to tell her their version of the story.  She asked them all to leave, and since everybody always does what Sara wants, they left without question.  Starting that rumor about herself had really worked to her advantage, even with her friends.  When the hall was finally empty, Sara removed the key from her pocket and quietly opened the door.  When Sara was frustrated or stressed, she liked to make the room as dark as possible and curl up in the big wing-back chair underneath her heavy comforter.  So she was surprised when she entered the room and found the curtains thrown back and Jameson standing in front of the window watching the people below him.  He had activated the system so that he could see out but people could not see in.  He didn’t move or even acknowledge her presence as she entered the room and walked toward him.  She wasn’t even sure that he knew she was there until she stood next to him and he began to speak. “Why can’t they get it?  Why can’t they see that there is another way?”  And finally he looked at her.  “I can’t do anything for these people.  They want me to decide who is right and who is wrong, when there isn’t a right or wrong.”  

Sara tried to reassure him.  “They come to you because they trust your judgement.  They know that one of your gifts is the ability to see things clearly.”

“It’s not a gift,” he replied.  “It’s a curse.  Do you have any idea what it is like?  Do you know what it is like to completely understand both sides of the issue.  I can see why Kantol is angry.  He feels like his people have been hurt and betrayed.  And his fear causes him to lash out at anyone who might try to hurt them again.  And I also understand Grekov’s pain and anger.  Did you know that it was his daughter that died in my arms that first day in the hospital?  And that his son was killed protecting his home when Kantol’s men seeking their revenge, attacked the city?  They are all hurt and angry and rightly so, but I can’t get them to see that the pain won’t stop unless they make the first move to stop it.  No one wants to take the chance that they may be hurt again.”  

They stood in silence for a few minutes.  Jameson began to talk again as he paced the room.  “I almost had Kantol convinced to give up the council chamber.  To let someone, anyone, go in and identify the dead.  I’ve only been contacted by 2 or 3 council members that managed to escape.  As for the others, we have no idea who is dead, and who was taken prisoner.  Kantol doesn’t even know, since groups are beginning to splinter off from his, and a few of those took prisoners with them.  Are they joining Grekov’s side or just adding another enemy to the pile?  We don’t know.  Did you know that Grekov’s wife had just been elected council woman from their district?  She was so excited for her first day at council.  Her first opportunity to really make a difference.  Her first day was the day of the attack.  Grekov doesn’t know if she’s dead or if she escaped, or if she’s being held prisoner and abused in some cave in the hills.

Kantol is a basically good man who is trying to do what he feels is right for his people.  Denying their district a representative in the council was not right and just added to the misunderstanding and hatred that had been bred into him.  Perhaps his grandfathers really were bad men out to cheat our world, but by ostracizing the entire community we helped create that hatred.  Kantol was taught that his people were betrayed.  And even Holly turned her back on them when they came to her for help.  But Kantol had a vision of a better way.  He was a great man trying to change his world for the better, and it was working with his people.  They were changing their attitudes about the rest of us.  He came in peace, asking to be admitted to the council.  And our council would not even dignify his request with a response.  A “peace keeping force” entered the inn where they were staying and “escorted” them out of town.  Many of the men were severely beaten and two of them died before they could return home.  What were his people supposed to feel?  Were they supposed to go on living their difficult lives out there alone when we had so much here?  Kantol could have been Grekov’s greatest ally instead of his worst enemy.  What am I supposed to do?  How do I make them understand the way I do?  What am I supposed to say?”

Sara knew that it was not a question she could answer, so she just stood there and waited with him as he thought.  After several minutes, he spoke again.
“Sara, I had a vision that I would be able to unite our people again, but I just don’t know how.  It seemed so clear and easy then. But the reality is that I’ve run out of things to say to bring them to the point where I can help them.”

“Then let me help,” Sara replied.

“I don’t know what you could do that would change anything.”

“Hey,” she said.  “Give me a little credit.  You don’t know half of what I can do, and maybe in that half is something that can move this process along.  Why don’t you just let me in on the big secret that you’ve been keeping from me for weeks, and then I let you know whether or not I can help you.”

“Sara…” he said.  “The music is the key.  If I can get them to the sanctuary and let them hear the music, it will happen.  I don’t really understand how, but I know that the music can tell them things that I cannot.  I need to get them there, but first I need to finish composing this work and find performers and rehearse it.”

“That’s it?” she said laughing.  "That’s all you need and you can save the world.  Why didn’t you ask me earlier?”

Jameson looked at her like she’d totally lost her mind.  How could she be making light of this?  

Sara saw his frustration, and suddenly was more serious  “Jameson, trust me on this on, OK.  With all you’ve been through and all that you know is coming, of course it seems overwhelming, but that is when you turn to others for help.  We live at a school of music Jameson.  Do you really think I’m going to have a difficult time finding performers?  Our musicians know you and trust you.  And they would sit next to their worst enemies if it meant having the opportunity to work with you.  I will find the performers and set up the rehearsals.  I even have a few things up my sleeve that may help in getting our target audience to come.  I can’t really do the composing for you, but I’ll be here to support you in any way I can.”

As Jameson listened to Sara’s offer of support, he found the inspiration for his next movement.  She was not disturbed at all when he walked away and sat down to compose.  He was doing exactly what he needed to do, and it left her free to begin the first steps of her plan.  

Several days later, Jameson asked Sara to meet him in his study.  He had finally completed the section that would be the central focus of this major work.  He wanted her to see it first.  As soon as she entered the room, he handed her the score.  He watched her as she read the music and imagined the sounds of the voices and instruments.   She struggled to remain in control of her emotions, but was swept away by the power of his portrayal of the causes of this war.  It was the stories he had told her about Kantol and Grekov, but in so much more depth.  When she finished reading the score, she felt as if she knew these people.  They could easily be her friends.  She loved them and cared about them.  She started to talk, trying to explain to Jameson what she was feeling, but he could tell just from looking at her.  

“It’s what we were hoping for, isn’t it?” he asked.  

“Yes, it is,” was all she could say.  

Jameson still had to organized and set an order to the things he had written, and of course there was some composing to link the sections that still needed to be done. But the hardest part of his job was done.  Now it was time for Sara to work her magic.  

A date was set for the performance.  Everyone knew that somewhere musicians were assembling to rehearse their parts, but the location of the rehearsals remained a secret known only to Sara and the musicians.  Sara had also taken great lengths to keep the content and themes of the work a mystery.  Sara had chosen her musicians very carefully, not only for their talent, but for the connections they had in the world.  Soon the whole planet was bubbling with news of this new mysterious work of Jameson’s.  The concert was free, but admission was by ticket only.  And nearly every ticket was taken on the first day they became available.  Sara had held back several tickets waiting to see if the leaders of the different factions would decided to come on their own, or if they would need encouragement.  Not one of them had asked for tickets, although Sara knew that members of their families would be there.  But Sara was not concerned.  It wasn’t a major obstacle.  It just meant moving on to plan B.  And as always, Sara had a back-up plan for everything.  

On the night of the concert, Jameson had only seen Sara for a few short minutes before she was called away to help with some final details of the seating arrangements.  He wished he had had more time with her.  He needed her calming presence.  He was experiencing the normal pre-preformance anxieties, but also was beginning to doubt that his music could really bring peace.  

He was especially disappointed that Kantol and Grekov would not be there.  He did, however, understand their reasons.  Both had sent messages explaining that they felt that the concert was a wonderful thing, and that they were sure that they would be safe once in the sanctuary, but were concerned about security and safety traveling to and from the concert.  Jameson understood.  In fact, he had also considered the risk his audience was taking.  He was fairly sure  that all would be safe once in the sanctuary, but there was no way  he could guarantee safe passage for anyone moving through the city towards the sanctuary.  Perhgaps the war had made him a pessimist, but he too was concerned that someones would see the parade to the sanctuary as an opportunity to take out the enemy.  Sara had assured him that all would be well.  

Sara opened the door and stuck her head in.  "Ready to go?" she asked.  

"I suppose," Jameson replied as he got up from his chair.

"It will be fine," she said as she straightened his tie.  

They walked in silence through the halls to the sanctuary.  At the door, she gave him a quick kiss and then slipped thorugh the door to take her place with the other musicians.  He took a few deep breaths as the orchestra tuned.  When the tuning ended, he straghtened his jacket and walked through the door to take his place at the podium.  He was greeted with thunderous applause and a standing ovation.  It was several minutes before the applause ended and Jameson could begin the music.  

It only took a few lines of music for Jameson to forget his anxieties and become completely immersed in the music.  The two hours flew by.  Soon the audience was on their feet again. Jameson and the soloists took several bows before leaving the stage for the last time.  It was nearly two hours later when Jameson shook the last hand and heard the last congratulatory praise.  He was still on an adrenaline high, and knowing that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep for quite awhile, he headed toward the children's wards.  He hoped that he could use his renewed energy and peace to help a few more children.  

Jameson was surprised, but pleased to find all the children resting peacefully.  "They've been like that for quite awhile now," said one of the attendants.  "It's been the calmest evening we've ever had," she added.  "By the way, how was the concert?"

Jameson told her that all had gone well and that the music had been well received.  As he spoke, it suddenly made sense to him.  "When did it happen?" he asked.

"What?"

"When did the children calm down?"

He was not surprised by her answer.  Shortly after the concert began, the children had started to settle down.  By the time the concert ended, event he worst cases were sleeping peacefully.  He checked on a few of the critical cases he had seen earlier in the day, hoping to find that they had been healed as well as calmed.  But sadly, other than the general improvement in their own healing energies, there had been little change.  Even that small change though, he considered a miracle.  

"There you are," said Sara, entering the room.  "I've been looking all over for you."

"I wanted to check on the children and see if there was anything I could do to help them tonight."

"It looks like they're all resting right now.  Come back later.  Right now, you need to come with me.  There is someone very important waiting in your office."

"You mean I didn't already shake the hand of every person on the planet?  It sure seemed like it."

She just laughed at him.  

"Who is it?"

"Just come and see.  I promise you'll be glad you did."

"Sorry it took me so long to find hum, but here he is," Sara said to the tall man looking out the window.  Althougth he had not seen him in years, Jameson had no trouble identifying the distinguished looking gentleman that turned to greet him.  

"And where did you find him?" Tiberius asked as he embraced his young friend.   

"I found him in our children's hospital," replied Sara.  

"You won't  believe what happened during the concert," said Jameson.   "I'm not sure why, but the calming most people feel at the sanctuary traveled beyond those walls.  During the concert, the children calmed down and were able to get to sleep.  I don't know why or how, but something amazing happened tonight."

"I have to agree," said Tiberius.  "The concert was wonderful."

"I had no idea you were her.  When did you get to Cronolin?  And why did you come?  I'm surprised that any ships could even land."

"I was worried about that, but had had less trouble than anticipated.  Holly wanted to be buried here, and I promised her that somehow I would bring her back after completing the negotiations on Tabaxal.  I was pleasantly surprised to learn of your concert when I arrived.  Sara was able to get me a place in the back."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jameson asked Sara.  

"I asked her not to," said Tiberius.  "I didn't want to add any pressure or bring attention to myself."

Sara excused herself and left the two old freinds to talk.  They spoke of their work and their lives, and of moving on without Holly.  

Then Tiberius explained to Jameson what he had observed during the performance.  As the music began, Tiberius noticed a subtle glow in the walls of the sanctuary.  At first, he thought nothing of it, but as a similar glow enveloped Jameson, he recognized it as part of a familiar pattern.  Soon others, both musicians and audience members were glowing.  As the piece progressed, the glow intensified and spokes of light shot out linking the glowing bodies--audience members to musicians, musicians to other musicians, audience members to other audience members, and all in the room to Jameson.    And as all the light linked to Jameson, he was engulfed in a huge column of light that continued to grow and intensify throughout the concert.  The energy web was far more complex than what Tiberius had seen when observing Holly and the other women, but he had no doubt that it was the same process, multiplied by the number of people involved.  He listened and watched in awe, knowing that very few, if any, of the others were aware of what was really happening.  The first time he had experienced this, he had not seen it, but merely felt the final result.  Holly had taught him how to see it, and he had since witnessed it several times, but only when Holly worked with her circle.  He didn't have to long to wonder what the final result of this would be.  As the music reached its climax, the column of light around Jameson collapsed, creating a glowing pool of light that filled every space in the sanctuary.  Then like shock waves, the glow continued its outward motion, spreading far beyond the walls of the sanctuary itself.  As the audience erupted into applause, the glow in the sanctuary dimmed leaving only the individual glows of the people.  Tiberius left quickly and from a distance watched as the glowing individuals left to return to their homes.  Jameson't glow was still almost blinding.  

As Tiberius and Jameson talked about the war and about what had happened at the concert, they came up with a plan.  Meanwhile, Sara was with the musicians hatching a plan of their own.  By the time she saw Jameson and Tiberius the next morning, she had already worked out all the details.  

On the night of the second concert, Tiberius watched and listened from his ship in orbit over Cronolin.  He had wanted to experinece the music live again, but his curiosity about how the energy distribution would work this time won out, so he was observing via his communications and observation systems.  Several of the musicians had taken the music to their home communitites and recruited and rehearsed others for the performance.  In total, performers in 12 communitities spread across the planet would perform simultaneously with Jameson conducting them all via satellite link.  Tiberius had placed his ship in orbit over the capital city and the sanctuary.  He assumed, and rightly so, that this would be the area with the most intense, vibrant activity.  

Tiberius listened to the performance while watching the planet for change.  He was disappointed when he saw nothing out of the ordinary.  Perhaps he should have trained a few people to monitor events on the surface, but it was a little late for that now.  He checked the links to each of the performance sites and saw nothing unuaual.  Was the phenomenon not occuring this time, or was he merely unable to observe it through the links?  He finally decided that he could worry and fret, or he could let it go and allow himself to just experinece the beautiful music.  During the first performance, he had been so interested in what was happening with the energy web that he hadn't really listened to the music.  Now he realized just how brilliant and inspired Jameson had been in putting this work together.  He thought back to their first encounter when Jameson had been just a small child.  He'd shown extraordinary potential then, but Tiberius had never expected this.  But he really shouldn't have been surprised.  After all, it was Jameson's music that had brought Holly back when they all though she had been lost forever. 

As the climax neared, Tiberius looked out the window at the planet.  Small dots of light appeared at  each of the concert sites and then stretched forth spokes of light connecting each site to all of the others.  Soon the whole planet was aglow.  Then the energy dispersed into space.  Tiberius wasn't sure how far it traveled, but he had felt it in orbit.  He could hardly wait to get back to the surface and tell Jameson of their success.  

But Jameson didn't need Tiberius to tell him that it had worked.  Although he couldn't actually see the energy like Tiberius had, Jameson saw the change in his people.  No one was completely ready to give up the emotional baggage that had led them to war, but the concert left the people understanding each other better and more willing to sit down and quietly discuss the issues.  By the time Jameson returned to his studio, there were already several messages from people who were ready to negotiate a peace treaty.

Upon Tiberius' return tot he planet's surface, he was immediately recruited to lead the negotiations team.  It was what Tiberius did best, and Jameson jumped at the opportunity to use the best negotiator in the Federation to help bring peace to his world.  

It was not a short or easy process, but eventually a treaty was signed and people returned to their homes to prepare for the long hard winter that would soon be upon them.  Many would die that winter due to lack of food and shelter, but no one died alone.  Jameson heard stories of people sharing their last log or last loaf of bread with people that had previously been their enemies.  

Jameson helped where he could, coordinating shelters and the distribution of what little food was available.  Under ordinary circumstances, the Federation would have brought in supplies, but the Federation was dealing with its own problems.  Soon after the peace treaty was signed, Tiberius had been called away to help negotiate peace within the Federation.

Early in the spring, Jameson received a message from Federation headquarters that Tiberius and another high-ranking guest would be arriving shortly.  Although he was excited to see Tiberius again, he did not look forward to Tiberius seeing the waste and destruction of their planet.  He told this to Sara one evening as they ate dinner.  Ever the optimist, Sara quickly quieted his fears.  Yes, they would see the destruction and waste, but they would also see the hope and the people working together to rebuild their world.  

Tiberius and Jarom arrived late in the evening.  Sara met them at the spaceport and took them back to the music school.  "Jameson said to tell you that he was sorry that he could  not meet you himself tonight.  He was called away at the last minute.  I told him that I could take care of the other matter, but he's hopelessly commited to his people and feels he has to help them himself."  Sara explained that rooms had been prepared for them and that Jameson would see them at breakfast the next morning.

"How long will he be away?" Tiberius asked.  "We were hoping to see him as soon as possible."

"It shouldn't be more than a couple of hours," she answered.  

"Could we wait for him in the study?"

She said that that would be alright but warned them against keeping Jameson up too late.  "He gets little sleep as it is," she said.  "And he needs all the energy he can find for the things he must do during the day."  They promised to keep their meeting short, and she left them with drinks and sandwiches to consume while they waited.  

It was nearly three hours before Jameson returned, and Tiberius and Jarom filled the time sharing memories of the time they had spent in that study and on Cronolin much earlier in their lives.  They had spent years away from this place, but somehow, it always felt like home.  

Jameson walked through the door and began to greet Tiberius, but stopped short when he realized who the "high-ranking official" was.  His first official meeting with the Premier of the whole federation and here he was tired, sweaty and dirty--not a great way to make a good first impression.  But Jarom quickly set him  at ease and they began the discussion for which these men had traveled so far.

Tiberius had informed the Premier of the huge success of the concerts and the progress that the people of Cronolin were making in rebuilding.  The Premier wanted to try a much bigger linked concert and see if it could help heal the negative feelings of the Federation and set them on path to peace.  At first, Jameson was overjoyed; but then he realized now many of his key people would be traveling to far away places to prepare for the concert--people that were desperately needed to rebuild the buildings and plant the fields of Cronolin.  It seemed selfish to say that his people were needed on Cronolin.  He thought it would be like saying that Cronolin was more important than the whole Federation.  His internal debate did not last long.  Tiberius explained that they had already recruited several individuals to come to Cronolin to learn the music and then teach it to the musicans on the many worlds that would participate.  This plan would take a little longer, but no one wanted to add further burdens for the people of Cronolin.

They worked out the details, and then the conversation turned to more personal things.  Several hours later, Tiberius glanced at the clock.  "Sara's not going to be happy.  We promised to let you get to sleep, and here it is almost morning."

Jameson laughed.  "Well then, I guess we'll all just have to do what I do when I know Sara's going to yell at me--stay out of her way and make sure she can't find you."

Jarom and Tiberius laughed.

"Why don't I show you what we've been working on," said Jameson.

Jarom and Tiberius followed Jameson throught the dimly lit streets to the edge of town.  They passed buildings that had been repaired just enough to get through the winter.  They saw buildings that had been totally destroyed, but also saw evidence that people had begun to sift through the rubble, reclaiming anything of value.  They saw buildings in the early stages of being rebuilt. They left the town and followed a muddy road out into the countryside.  Jameson then led them to the top of a hill.  

As they watched, the sun rose, illuminating the valley below--a valley burned and scarred by war.  But that was not all they saw.  To the south, they saw a newly constructed house and barn.  And in the fields below, people were preparing the soil for planting.  The three men stood in silence, viewing the destruction of the past and looking forward with hope to the future they would help create.  

© Jeannine Robinett