Boston Logan International Airport, Terminal B,
Seoha checked the time, then the electronic departure board again and again. New York was only forty minutes away by plane, but a thick sea fog that had rolled in without warning had made visibility poor.
—Attention, please. Passengers on Delta Air Lines Flight 2078 bound for New York LaGuardia Airport!
At the announcement, everyone in the waiting area lifted their heads at once.
—Due to deteriorating weather conditions in the Boston area and a ground stop issued by the Federal Aviation Administration, the departure of this flight has been delayed. The estimated wait time is two hours.
Sighs broke out here and there.
The Boston–New York route was one of the most notoriously delay-prone routes in the United States. She had left with plenty of time so she would not be late, but today, luck was not on her side.
‘What do I do?’
[15:00]
The performance was at 7:30 p.m.
If the plane took off in two hours as announced, there would be no major problem. Looking anxious, Seoha sat down and bit her nails.
[16:00]
An hour passed, but beyond the window, the scenery was still swallowed by fog so thick she could not see an inch ahead. At some point, the status in the Delta Air Lines app had changed from “Delayed” to “To Be Determined.”
[17:00]
Seoha’s lips went dry.
The passengers around her had already given up, sinking down onto the floor. Some people had crowded around the counter and were loudly protesting.
‘Is this the curse of sunk cost?’
The moment she heard about the delay, she should have run to the Amtrak station. But the baseless hope that the fog would soon lift, and the announcement saying they only had to wait two hours, had held Seoha back. Now that was no longer an option she had.
[17:30]
Only two hours until the performance began.
Considering the time it would take to get from the airport to Lincoln Center, even if the plane took off now, it might be difficult to arrive on time.
Tick.
Tick.
The sound of the clock grated on her nerves.
Seoha’s subconscious had been counting it for a long time. Every time the second hand moved, her heartbeat sped up with it.
Fear swept over her—the fear that she might miss the moment Gyeoul had been looking forward to so much, the sight of her playing her own piece on the greatest stage in the world.
[18:00]
The sign on the board in front of the gate flickered, then changed to “Boarding.”
—Delta Flight 2078 will now begin boarding. We thank all passengers for your patience during the long wait.
Before the announcement had even ended, Seoha sprang from her seat. Passing through the narrow jet bridge and stepping into the cabin, her sweat-soaked shirt chilled under the air conditioning.
The plane crept slowly along the runway. Then, with a heavy roar, it took off.
[19:05]
When she came out of the airport, she saw taxis lined up and waiting.
“Lincoln Center! Please get me there as fast as you can.”
Seoha cried out as she hurriedly shut the car door.
“Aha! The New York Phil’s performing there tonight, right?”
“Yes, at 7:30. Please.”
Despite the desperation in Seoha’s voice, the driver looked relaxed. He glanced at the rearview mirror and grinned.
“Don’t worry, my friend. New York isn’t like it used to be these days.”
“Sorry?”
“Guess you’re a little behind on the news. Haven’t heard yet? New York’s got something called Oracle.
They say there’s a wicked smart student at MIT, and I heard that kid made the system.
We can’t live without it now. Before, at this hour, it would’ve taken more than an hour to get to Lincoln Center where you’re going. You’ll arrive before you’re late, so just sit back and relax.”
The driver laughed heartily, his face full of pride as he boasted.
Feeling strange, Seoha looked out the window. The drivers’ faces were bright.
When the driver was let into a lane, he opened the window and gave a thumbs-up. A city where irritable honking and reckless driving had been daily life now had room to breathe.
The fact that the system she had designed had made people happy filled Seoha’s heart.
“…Mayor John’s a stubborn one, I’ll tell you. Any illegally parked car blocking the optimal route gets towed without exception. The fines are enormous too, so there aren’t any idiots leaving their cars downtown anymore. Thanks to that, the world’s gotten livable for us.”
The taxi passed 59th Street and turned onto Seventh Avenue. Then all the lights turned green at once.
“Haha! Even the lights are on our side. At this speed, we’ll get there with time to spare before the show starts.”
Vroooom!
Excited, the driver stepped on the accelerator.
It was as though New York were rolling out a red carpet, welcoming her in.
[19:21]
Through the window, she could see Lincoln Center’s symbolic grand fountain and the dazzling lights of Geffen Hall. They had covered the ten miles that would once have easily taken an hour in just fifteen minutes.
“Thank you.”
Seoha paid the fare and got out of the taxi.
When she looked back, a single daisy was blooming in the corner of the electronic board showing traffic information.
***
Seoha sat down and looked around.
The splendid light pouring from the enormous chandelier on the ceiling, New York’s upper-class citizens filling the seats. Famous celebrities she had seen on the front pages of newspapers and world-class classical musicians were sitting there with reverent expressions.
“Huh?”
She saw familiar faces.
They were wearing tuxedos and dresses, but they were definitely people she had seen in the preparatory division at the gifted high school. With excited expressions, they were leafing through the program pamphlets.
Their faces seemed to show pride and jealousy at the same time over the fact that their classmate was the star of this magnificent stage.
The murmuring died down, and the orchestra members began entering the stage.
After the orchestra finished tuning, Lawrence appeared with measured steps. Thunderous applause burst forth.
The performance opened brilliantly with a Mozart overture.
The combination of the world’s finest orchestra and a conductor who insisted on an almost obsessive degree of perfection overwhelmed the audience at once.
‘Incredible.’
The days when she had been a beginner in classical music were long gone. Seoha now possessed an eye nearly on par with a fairly competent expert.
Lawrence was obsessing over each and every note to an almost frightening degree. She found herself bowing her head in admiration at the efforts of the New York Philharmonic members, who so splendidly brought his ideals into reality.
Each time a piece ended, Seoha applauded the stage with all her might.
Murmur, murmur.
During intermission, the staff brought in a Steinway piano.
Seoha swallowed hard. The air in the hall changed noticeably. Before the strange finale called “a piano concerto written by a mathematician,” the audience wore intrigued expressions.
Clap, clap, clap, clap!
Gyeoul walked out onto the stage flooded with light.
Her navy dress swayed with each of her steps. Gasps broke out around her.
“She’s beautiful.”
“She has an aura that makes people focus on her at once.”
Gyeoul sat before the piano and looked out at the audience. Then, after smiling faintly, she placed her hands on the keys.
Lawrence raised his baton.
At the same time, the music began. The moment the first note rang out, Seoha felt as if her breath had stopped.
The strings laid a low foundation, creating tension. Above it, Gyeoul’s piano drew out a clear melody.
‘This is…’
Seoha stared blankly at the stage.
The desperate monologue she had written alone, shut inside her room, had been given life through the hands of one conductor and more than sixty musicians.
‘The proportions are perfect.’
Lawrence must have completely dismantled the score of this piece from the very beginning.
It was an arrangement that perfectly accounted for everything: its mathematical structure and balance, and even the flow of emotion contained within.
The cello played the main theme like a low groan. The viola took it up a note higher in response, and the violin transformed it again, adding harmony.
The structure of permutation she had designed was being realized three-dimensionally through the orchestra. A sense of space that could never have been expressed by a single instrument—Lawrence was making minute adjustments at every point where the individual parts overlapped, aligning the mathematical symmetry.
Though only a very small number of people in the audience would be able to notice it.
‘This too?’
Like someone hunting for treasure, Lawrence had found the mathematical devices Seoha had hidden in every corner of the score and drawn them up onto the stage. Human beings were creatures designed to be enchanted by symmetry. The symmetry of sound that Seoha had conceived and Lawrence had honed was burrowing into the audience’s subconscious.
“It isn’t even a minor progression, but it’s strangely sad.”
“I feel like I can’t breathe.”
The couple sitting in the row ahead murmured quietly to each other.
A melody sinking endlessly downward.
The tension remained unresolved, tormenting the nerves. The audience could not tell where this music was trying to take them.
In an ordinary concerto, this would have been the point where it offered catharsis, but this piece stubbornly refused to do so.
Gyeoul tilted her head upward with her eyes closed.
Boom—
Seoha’s throat tightened.
She was ashamed to have her weakest moment exposed so nakedly. And yet, at the same time, there was a part of her that found Gyeoul’s performance beautiful.
Gyeoul’s piano took up the theme.
She was immersed in an ecstasy she had never experienced in her life. It felt as though her very existence were resonating with the music.
And the loneliness of the boy, which he had never been able to fully put into words, burst out from every note.
“Ah…”
“My God.”
The audience shed tears they could not understand.
Gyeoul’s lips trembled. The reason Lawrence had chosen her.
There were overflowing numbers of performers with excellent technique. But the only one who understood the terrible despair hidden inside the piece, and the single ray of salvation that came at its end, was Gyeoul.
‘Let us be salvation for each other.’
She felt a warm light pouring down over her closed eyes.
With the mournful melody of the oboe, the first movement came to an end.
Silence flowed.
While the audience hesitated, unsure whether they should applaud or not, Lawrence raised his baton again.
The second movement.
The double bass resounded low, announcing a new beginning.
‘Huh?’
The eyes of the enthusiasts widened.
It was the same theme as the first movement, but the direction of the intervals had been inverted.
Retrograde Inversion.
A body that had been drifting in the heavy depths of the sea met light and slowly began to rise. The clarinet took up the flute’s light melody. Then the strings joined one by one, breathing life into the line.
Gyeoul’s playing grew faster and faster.
The emotions suppressed in the first movement began to be set free.
The journey of a soul escaping from the abyss of despair. Gyeoul was grateful that she had been able to become his light.
At last, the climax arrived.
Lawrence conducted passionately with his entire body.
Strings and winds gradually gathered, creating a vast wave of harmony. And Gyeoul’s piano rode that wave, soaring high into the sky.
“Flight…”
The elderly gentleman beside her muttered, his eyes wide.
As if the entire first movement had been preparation for this moment alone, a thunderous impact swept through the hall.
Because it had experienced deep darkness, the light was all the more beautiful.
It was the moment Seoha’s mathematical necessity was sublimated into musical emotion.
‘Thank you.’
Seoha thanked them from the bottom of her heart.
She could feel Ducky rejoicing in her head. She was no longer the boy trapped in a small room.
The music reached its peak, then slowly subsided.
And then, a quiet harmony that brought the ending together.
The moment Gyeoul’s fingers left the keys, Lawrence lowered his baton.
The people struggled, not knowing how to express this deep afterglow.
And then—
After three seconds of silence, thunderous applause erupted.
“Bravo!”
“Bravissimo!”
Everyone rose from their seats.
At the standing ovation he had not seen in a long time, Lawrence smiled with satisfaction. Seoha also sprang to her feet and applauded until her hands turned red.
Gyeoul’s face was drenched in sweat.
But her expression looked more refreshed than ever. She rose and bowed toward the audience.
All around, the audience’s exclamations of admiration could be heard.
“A debut that will go down in the history of the New York Phil.”
“You can say that again. Both the composer and the performer.”
Their eyes met.
Amid the cheers of thousands pouring down on them, the two exchanged a silent smile.