Patronage

by Dawn Shirley

Skyler pulled a small envelope out of his jacket pocket and took another look at the gold writing embossed on the card inside.

You are Invited
To a 1930s New Years Eve
2252 Dec 31, 9:00-10:45 Ut1
Earth Terminal Five, Dock 8a

“On your way to Gabriel’s party?”

He looked up to see a man dressed in a black antique-style tuxedo with shiny satin lapels, definitely looking out of place in the busy terminal.

“How can you tell?” he replied with a wry smile, glancing down at his own, nearly identical clothing.

“Mind if I share a shuttle with you? I’m George by the way,” he said, holding his hand to his chest and bowing his head slightly.

“Skyler...and sure...please, lead on.”

George turned and began walking at a brisk pace. “I’m afraid that we’ll have to rush a bit. Tight schedule on this one...no holding a solar eclipse, you know.”

Skyler kept a close eye on the man ahead of him, weaving in and out among groups of slower moving travelers. It was his first time riding a space elevator up to the connection terminal. George had obviously either been this way before or was relying on an implant to feed him directions. Either way, Skyler was grateful for the assistance.

They turned onto a quiet side hallway lined with pressure doors. George entered a 2 on the touchpad next to a door with a green light, held up his invitation to the scanner and motioned for Skyler to do the same. After a slight pause for biometric verification, the door opened and the two men stepped into the shuttle. A moment more to buckle in, and they were on their way.

“George, may I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“What is it like working for Gabriel?”

George raised an eyebrow.

Skyler quickly continued, gesturing to the distinctive ring on George’s right hand, “How is he, as a patron?”

“Ah...you must be the musician.”

“THE musician?” Skyler asked, looking at him sideways.

“Yes, The musician,” George replied. “I knew Gabe was planning on branching into the arts and rumor has it that his heart was set on acquiring a musician for his New Year’s Party. I’m one of his historians, myself. That’s been his main focus. He’s famous for his theme parties, you know.”

“Yes, I had heard that,” said Skyler, glancing again at the tuxedos.

“I’m not sure that I would characterize myself as THE musician, but I am a musician. I’ve been commissioned to compose a single piece after viewing the solar eclipse from space.”

“And you are wondering if you should accept a patronage contract, am I right?”

Skyler had been contacted three months earlier by a member of Gabriel’s staff with an offer of patronage. There had been an interesting article on Skyler’s work as an experiential composer. Leery of being bound quite so strongly however, he had convinced Gabriel’s representative to accept a single commission to assess compatibility first. The invitation had arrived along with the tuxedo two weeks later.

“Well, you’ve probably done your basic research and know that Gabriel is pretty typical of the younger offspring of the great families...left to his own devices on Earth, while his older siblings manage their various acquisitions in space. Basically, he’s got time on his hands and money to spend.”

“As far as his character as a patron,” George continued, “I can’t say that I can complain.” Skyler’s eyebrows raised.

“I’m not saying that I would if I could,” George added hurriedly. “I actually don’t have much to complain about. I’ve got pretty much a free reign to research what I like and funds to do it with. The occasional need to drop everything and help design a theme party...not this one though. Early twenty-first century is more my specialty. I get to travel the world in luxury and Gabriel’s name opens archives which would otherwise be closed...I sound like a salesman, don’t I?”

“A little,” said Skyler, smiling. “Is your work ever restricted?”

“Not really,” George said. “All research is reviewed before publication of course. Some patrons are extremely particular about the light in which their ancestors are portrayed. I have a colleague who is regularly brought to tears. However, I’ve only once been asked to make a very slight change. So yes, it’s a cage, but it is a very loose fitting cage and oh how it is gilded.”

Soon the shuttle reached its destination and docked with a clank that was felt as much as heard. This, more than anything else, brought home to Skyler that he really was in space. The elevator terminal could have easily been any large airport. This felt more real somehow.

The door slid open as the two men unbuckled flight straps. George showed Skyler how to use the guide cables to move hand over hand out of the shuttle and onto the ship. A man was waiting for them as they entered.

“James! Good to see you! Looks like we just made it,” George beamed.

“Good to see you as well. And I presume you must be Skyler. We spoke earlier? So glad you could make it! We were beginning to wonder.”

“I’m happy to be here, myself,” replied Skyler. “Apologies for the lateness. There were some unexpected delays getting to the elevator.”

“Well no matter, you’re here now. Everyone else has already made their way to the ballroom, but we’re about ready to begin acceleration so I’m afraid we had better take a seat here. We can walk to the ballroom once we’ve achieved 1g.”

“It’s going to be really quite elegant,” James continued as they buckled into chairs that folded down from what appeared to be a wall. “We accelerate to maintain 1g until just before the eclipse achieves totality, then we turn on our side and float between the moon and the earth for about fifteen minutes giving us the perfect view before turning again and decelerating to maintain 1g again. Alright, here we go,” James said as an orange light began blinking.

Skyler felt his trouser legs slowly settle downward as increasing pressure pushed him down into the chair. The light ceased blinking and the three men folded their chairs back into the wall and headed off down the hallway.

“So James, where is everyone located today?” asked George.

“Well, there’s the usual grouping of historians placed off to the right. Bronwen brought a few poets and artists. We’ve positioned them on the left in between Carl’s physicists and Cramden’s philosophers.”

“Oh good,” interrupted George, turning to Skyler. “You never want to place physicists and philosophers right next to each other.”

“Right,” agreed James. “Learned that the hard way. Who knew that intellectuals could be so violent!”

Skyler was about to ask James to elaborate when they arrived at the ballroom. The view was dazzling. A black and white sea of tuxedos mixed with the bright jewels of evening gowns glowing under the soft ambient light. The walls were richly decorated with an unusual mix of geometric shapes arranged in such a way to appear mechanical and organic all at once. Grand stairways swooped up to balconies surrounding the ballroom floor all with the same mix of straight lines and curves. Round tables dotted the perimeter and at the center...at the center was the band which had begun to play. A real, live band. Not a recording, not holograms, not actors pretending. It was a real, live band playing real live instruments. A spotlight shone on the singer who took a breath and...“Heaven...I’m in Heaven...And my heart beat so that I can barely speak...”

James laughed as Skyler’s jaw dropped open in amazement. “Glad to see you appreciate the band!”

“Where did they all come from?” Skyler gaped, shaking his head to recover from his amazement.

It was easy enough to find musicians to play virtual instruments, skilled in their own way, but real instruments? Almost no one took the time anymore that it takes to build up an embouchure, or breath control, or any of the other physical elements needed to play a real instrument well. And here...here there had to be at least three dozen playing together, and really, really well.

“Most were leant to Gabriel by the Montpelier family, a few were contracted for the event, and the singer was brought by Tinswell. Did I mention that Gabriel is a fan of the Veritas movement?” James added. “The real experience favored over the virtual?”

“I believe it,” muttered Skylar.

“Ironic given the early 21st century connotations of the term,” said George.

“What?”

“Nothing, nevermind. Just showing off,” said George, shaking his head. “How about I make some introductions? We can start with my fellow historians.”

“I’m going to leave you with George,” James told Skyler. “If he bores you too much, come find me,” he said, smirking at George.

“Oh ha...ha!” George took Skyler’s elbow and directed him towards a grouping on the right.

The band started into another tune and party goers filtered onto the dance floor.

“What I don’t understand,” a large man said as they approached, “is why the women have this dazzling array of choices and we’re stuck with this......uniform!”

“It reflects the values of the time,” replied a second man, patronage ring identical to George’s on his right hand. “Conformity of purpose, strength of mind and body. Look at those broad, square shoulders, wide chest, the bold contrast of black and white. The male mind was considered too serious to obsess over fashion....”

“Of course, an alternate theory is that men couldn’t be trusted to make proper fashion decisions unless they were given limited choices,” interjected a woman in a stunning green gown.

George laughed with the others as he and Skyler approached. “Skyler, may I introduce you to Monica, defender of the historic downtrodden.”

“Actually, feminist studies with an emphasis on gender roles from the industrial to the early modern periods,” Monica said as she reached out to shake Skyler’s hand.

“This here is Cody, the hero of the evening,” continued George. “He put in a lot of research time for this party.”

“Early 20th century specialty,” said Cody. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Lord and Lady Tinsdale, may I introduce Skyler Watkins.”

Lady Tinsdale’s eyes widened. “Skyler Watkins! I didn’t know he’d bagged Skyler Watkins! Oh, it’s such a pleasure to meet you...I just adore your desert series.”

“I haven’t quite bagged him yet, darling,” said a tall man as he approached. “I must say you look smashing, darling, simply smashing. Was that a correct use of the term, Cody? Smashing is a good thing, right?”

“Perfect usage, sir,” said Cody.

“Oh hello Gabe,” said Lord Tinsdale, turning to greet him. “Smashing party! Not quite bagged him yet you say?”

“Single item commission,” said Gabriel. “Speaking of which, I probably ought to talk business with him before all this talk of bagging scares him off.” Gabriel gestured for Skyler to follow him. “And Cody?”

“Yes sir?”

“Stop with the ‘sir.’ My name is Gabriel.” He motioned again to Skyler. “Come along.”

Skyler followed through the maze of tables, pausing briefly to grab one of the proffered dish-shaped glasses. They headed up one of the grand staircases to a quiet alcove on one of the balconies.

“Take a seat,” said Gabriel gesturing toward a comfortable looking round cushioned chair while sinking into his own. He held his glass up briefly and took a sip. Skyler held up his own and paused, looking into the glass, before taking a sip.

“Not my favorite shape,” said Gabriel, “but this is what they used for champagne in the 1930s and no use in going to all this effort if you aren’t going to get the glasses right.”

The two men sat for a moment. Gabriel took another sip.

“I do appreciate you inviting me for this opportunity,” started Skyler.

“But you still have some concerns about accepting a patronage.”

“Yes,” replied Skyler, not sure how to proceed.

“Understandable. Patronage contracts aren’t the easiest to dissolve, particularly if you wish to gain another patronage.”

“Musical composition is very personal to me. My works are part of me.”

“As they should be.”

“I’m not concerned if my music is not popular, or understood by the public. If I wanted a popular piece, I could just let an AI finish my ideas, water them down to a common denominator...and I won’t do that.”

It had taken several frustrating weeks for Skyler to convince his implant to simply record musical ideas and not automatically transform them into pap for the general populous. He was not going to go through that again.

Gabriel thought a moment, leaning forward in his chair. “Say I had an antique table, nice enough, but I painted it white...to blend with my decor. Would that increase its value?”

“No,” replied Skyler.

“But I like it better that way.”

“It might be more useful to you, but destroying the original finish decreases the value.”

“Right. So it would be wasteful to paint it. Instead I would find another table and place this one in another setting that complemented its true nature.”

“So if you don’t like my music...”

“But I do.”

“In the future? If you don’t like my compositions?”

“Then I would strive to understand. Failing that, I would ensure that those who do are able appreciate your work.”

Skyler paused, staring down into his hands as he collected his thoughts. He knew there had to be a catch.

“So what do you get out of the deal?”

Gabriel sat back and laughed. “Why, I get to say that I bagged the unbaggable Skyler Watkins!” He held up a hand as Skyler looked to protest. “No really, in my social circle there is no small amount of prestige in recognizing the talented and innovative and having the foresight to sponsor them. As well, I will be able to say that I was the one who provided you with experiences, like this solar eclipse in space, that are the inspirations for your compositions.”

“Of course,” he added, smiling, “I would need you to attend a few parties, to show you off, and I might make the occasional request of, say a flute piece for my niece to play.”

“Hmm. But what if your niece doesn’t like my style? What if I can’t produce anything acceptable in a style that she likes? Would I need to put my name to an inferior piece?”

“Certainly not,” replied Gabriel. “If you can’t write in a style that she likes...well, that just gives me an excuse to acquire another musician. I hope you’ll be the first of a set, you know.”

He sat back in his chair and took another drink.

“Look, you don’t need to decide tonight. Enjoy the party. Try the hors d’ oeuvres. But make sure that you’re up here on the observation balcony for the eclipse. It will be projected on the ceiling downstairs, but here,” Gabriel said, pointing to the starry sky outside the window above, “you’ll have the real deal.”

Skyler stood as Gabriel rose to head back downstairs. After gazing again at the stars, Skyler rejoined the party himself. He enjoyed the swirl of colorful people and joined in a few conversations. Dancers in fanciful costumes put on a show, occasionally a pair in tuxedo and evening gown taking the spotlight.

“I must say,” a tall woman leaned in, speaking loudly to Cody. “I must say, my lead dancer absolutely detests the...what do you call it...the monkey suit...can’t move in it. But Astaire and Rogers are a gift, an absolute gift! I may have to speak with Gabe about borrowing you sometime. Skyler, have you tried these...what are they? Canapes?”

“I have,” he replied. In fact, the food alone might be enough to convince him to sign a patronage contract despite the risks. He could quit his day job, focus on his music. James put a hand on his shoulder. “Almost time for the eclipse. We had better get you up to an observation balcony.”

Skyler let himself be led up another set of stairs. He noticed the staff putting away the food and gathering up loose plates and champagne glasses. They pulled down chairs ingeniously set in the walls and were gently encouraging guests to be seated and buckle in. Upstairs, James showed him the reclining observation chair and handed him a pair of dark glasses.

“You’ll want these to properly see the corona. Too bright otherwise.” James turned them to the side. “Touch this sensor here to magnify, on the other side to pull back.”

As the orange warning lights began flashing and the ambient light dimmed to nothing, Skyler leaned back and buckled himself in. He waited, looking out at more stars than he had seen in his life. Soon, he felt himself begin to float, restrained by the safety belts. The stars began to move in the sky as the ship turned to face the sun. Skyler put on the glasses and squinted at the light still leaking around the edge of the moon. With an almost audible click, the moon fell into place. The music in Skyler’s imagination leapt along with the corona now clearly visible, and beautiful. It felt amazing...inspired by an event so powerful, so awesome. Immersed in the flow of imagined sound, it seemed like only moments until the sun’s light escaped around the moon’s trailing edge. The ship moved again leaving only stars.

In the silence, Skyler heard music beginning to build. His music. As agreed, Gabriel had tapped into his implant and captured the musical ideas stored there. Despite the continued lack of gravity, Skyler unbuckled and pushed himself over to catch the balcony railing. The solar eclipse was projected on the ceiling of the ballroom, the earth with a spot of shadow moving across the floor. His music swelled to a crescendo as a pair of dancers pushed off, twirling to match the sun’s corona. The music was raw, somewhat disjointed, but the themes...the harmony...the dancers moving with the music...his music. This was unexpected.…..amazing!

The dancers slowly spun to the floor as deceleration gently started pulling everything down. Murmurs of appreciation began as the projections faded and the ambient light brightened. Skyler looked to his left where he saw Gabriel leaning against the rail. Raising his glass to Skyler, he winked.