The Piano In The Museum

The Piano In The Museum
A short story
written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Saturday, December 11th, 2010



Tom sat at the admission desk at the front of the Museum.

There weren't too many people visiting the Museum today 2 weeks before Christmas Day.

They would be hoarding through stores and shopping malls picking up gifts for the transient present (gifts that for the most part would probably be forgotten or ignored 6 months down the road into the future) rather than looking at relics from the past.

There had been only 4 visitors to the Museum today.

A mother and her 2 children (a boy and a girl).

The boy when he saw an old Underwood antique typewriter asked his mother, "Here's the keyboard. Where's the computer screen?".

The other visitor had been an elderly gentleman.

The mother and her children had only stayed in the Museum 20 minutes.

"I want to go to McDonald's," whined the boy.

"I want to do some more shopping," said the girl.

As there were 2 females in the party and only 1 male, shopping won out as the next part of action for the day.

The man had arrived 3 hours ago and was still poking around the exhibits of the Museum even as Tom looked at the clock and saw that it was just another 20 minutes until closing time.

Tom shut his eyes for a second and momentarily dozed off.

He awoke to the sound of piano playing.

What the?-

Tom couldn't recall any tune on his ipod that consisted solely of piano playing.

There were generally other instruments as well or at least vocals.

Then Tom realized he wasn't wearing the ear phones that went with his ipod.

The piano playing was coming from a corner of the Museum.

Tom got up and walked over to where the music was being played.

It was the old man sitting at the piano playing the keys with the natural talent of a piano virtuoso.

"Oh, sorry," the old man looked at Tom, "I suppose I shouldn't be touching any of the exhibits."

"That's all right," Tom said, "the curator doesn't work Saturdays. It doesn't bother me none. I didn't know this piano could play myself. I never heard it being played before. I just assumed that it was broken. That's why someone donated it to the Museum I figured."

"She still plays beautifully," the old man looked lovingly down at the keys.

"She does," Tom had to admit having heard the piano being played.

"I once played with a live band," said the old man.

"Really?" Tom was impressed, "would I have heard of them?".

"Very much doubt it," the old man shook his head, "it was a local band the Northern Trailblazers."

"Ah, a local band," Tom nodded, "no you certainly wouldn't make much money as a member of a local band."

"We actually made a fair bit of money locally in my day," the old man smiled, "every dance hall and ball room had its own live orchestra playing at night. Every weekend we would play at a different ballroom in town. We sort of made the circuit of the town as it were. It was during the '70s and '80s that DJs replaced the live orchestra. DJs were a lot cheaper to pay than an entire orchestra. But it just wasn't the same and the dance halls and ball rooms shut down. Discos with their DJs maintained the dancing tradition somewhat but by the mid-80s, they too were gone.
And now it looks like in this decade, the DJ's days are numbered as well. To be replaced by long running CDs with their multitudinous list of tunes."

"Yes, I suppose," said Tom, "these days the only place I hear a live orchestra playing during a dance is at a wedding reception."

"I imagine that's the reason a lot of people try to crash weddings," the old man smiled, "free food and free drink no doubt attracts some but I expect for many wedding crashers, it might be the sheer joy of hearing a live orchestra play while you dance. There is just something so exhilarating about dancing to a live orchestra. Something this century has seemed to have lost."

"Yes, I suppose," Tom said.

The old man looked at his watch, "Ah, 2 minutes to 4. Closing time for the museum in another couple of minutes. I suppose you're anxious to get home."

The old man got up, shook Tom's hand and left.

Tom closed up the Museum.

He met his friends at a nearby lounge for a drink.

There was raucous noise and laughter and much banter.

But as Tom sat there, he thought there was something missing.

This place wasn't a place for quiet conversation that's for sure, Tom thought.

Human interaction was indeed going on but amidst the loud music from the CD over the speakers and the rising cacophony of human voices as the voices tried to drown out the music and vice-versa the music seemingly trying to drown out the voices- everything was seemingly building upwards towards an explosive crescendo but a crescendo without a purpose- unlike a Beethoven symphony.

Tom turned to the table to his right where a quartet of young women were sitting.

One of the women was showing her friend the video on the newest and hottest cell phone of the month.

Tom watched as she pulled up images off the Net.

Then there was something that caught the young woman's attention.

It caught Tom's attention too.

It was a dashing young man and a beautiful young woman dancing.

The video was in black and white.

"Wow, that's neat," said the girl.

"It is," said her friend.

Tom had to admit (although he did not do it aloud) that it was indeed... neat.

Cool even.

At home in the old man's apartment, he was watching the old black and white movie on television that the young woman had picked up on her mobile phone.

It was a movie from the early 1940s that starred the dashing young Fred Astaire and the beautiful young Rita Hayworth.

Fred pranced.

Rita danced.

Like an artist painting a picture on the floor were the footsteps that Fred made.

A swish of exquisite fabric on the dress as Rita swayed.

They were dancing to a live orchestra.

The old man smiled.

He closed his eyes.

And heard the music... the beautiful, beautiful music.

Inside the lounge, Tom was getting a headache.

He closed his eyes.

But he was not hearing the music.

The Museum was now still and quiet. Not a sound was to be heard.

In shopping malls now, there was no silence to be heard.

And above the city and its lights, the stars seemed to dance in the sky- that is if one could see them in the winter fog and mist and collection of exhaust from a never ending line of cars.

The ancients believed in the idea of the Celestial Music of the Spheres- that the stars performed their own music as they moved across the sky.

Whether this was true or not- no one listened for that anymore.

Those who listened to the sounds from the skies were listening for radio signals from somewhere out there to indicate that we are not alone in the universe.

As the old man sat alone in his apartment, he did not feel alone.

As the voice of David Bowie sang that old song "Let's dance" on the lounge CD, Tom was starting to feel alone in the crowd for some reason.

Probably Bowie would have felt alone too if he had been sitting in that lounge for no one seemed to be listening to the words...

... "let's dance...."