“I can see why you learnt so many languages, Donald,” murmured Ed, reflecting on the multicultural timeless mix.
“Well I have had a hundred years to sort it haven’t I? You’ve got to fill the time with something. I’m on Mandarin at the moment. That’s a really hard language,” replied Donald.
“Come on, let’s go down and say hi to a few people. Then we’ll settle you down in a room for some rest and then decide what to do next.”
“Okay, that sounds good. Let’s do it,” replied Ed, as they started to wind their way down the interlinking spiral walkways like mice in a maze. Ed kept stopping to marvel at the views over the balcony every few yards.
“It’s an awesome place, Donald. I can see why you’d stay here. What did you say it was called again: Cohen dome?”
“No, Koan Dome, as in ‘ko-an’, like ‘go-aan’.”
“Oh! What does that mean then?”
“Well I never really understood it at first. Apparently it’s to do with some sort of ridiculous question which can’t be answered. After ages trying to figure it out logically, you go round in circles and get some sort of revelation, like a rubber glove slapped around your face.”
“Sounds like some sort of ‘Zen’ thing?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Zen. I spent years thinking it was ‘Hen Buddhism’ and that by figuring out how a hen became a monk I would get my rubber glove. I just misheard it.”
“That’s funny. Hen Buddhism.”
“I know. Anyway, this ‘Koan’ idea has some things in common with being caught in the cycle of transience. We try to understand it with our old values, but in actual fact, a clearer understanding comes about by being less analytical.”
“Yeah, I haven’t got to that point yet. I can see why you’d stay here though.”
“Yes, a lot of people like it. It was easy for me to make the decision. I miss very little of my previous life.”
“If you could change things, what would you do?” enquired Ed.
“What, about this place?”
“No, I mean about your old life.”
“Well I wouldn’t have fucking volunteered for a start. I think a whole lot of innocent young people didn’t need to be sacrificed so mercilessly with such meaningless actions. Walking into machine gun fire, succumbing to a gas attack, killed by a flying bolt; it was all pointless. I didn’t even know the reason for the war until some years later after I was here. When I found out, it made me downright angry. How could all those people die because some rich, posh, nobs don’t know how to resolve their differences? It is farcical,” replied Donald, as they got down to the floor level of the dome.
Ed looked up in amazement as they walked towards the centre where a large group of people was gathering.
“This’ll be nice, it’s the choral group. They sing some beautiful melodies and they sound amazing in here. Come on, let’s sit on the floor and watch them. It sounds better at a distance. Then we can go and say hi and meet a few people.”
“Sounds good. I really need to speak to someone who knows about the Viking. Can you arrange that for soon?”
“No problem. I know who to approach. We’ll listen to this, then get you a room and then go and meet her. She is a bit of an oddball, but friendly.”
“Fantastic,” replied Ed just as the choral group started to sing a delicate whispering drone with a magical voicing. Slowly the sound swelled into the enormity of the dome, spiralling upwards all around, the sound echoing from the awe-inspiring walkways above. The combination of sweet female tones bolstered by the warmth and depth of the male voices created the perfect texture for the harmonies and interwoven lines, to be most effective. Long legato passages increased in intensity, punctuated by short staccato rhythmic chords sung in unison with the uppermost precision. Donald lent over towards Ed, his rifle resting in his lap and whispered in his ear,
“Majestic and glorious, but not religious at all. We don’t do religion here.”
“I can understand that. This music is just incredible though; I’ve never heard anything like it before.”
“I doubt if anyone outside of this community ever has. This is what you get when Brahms and Bach have been living next door to one another for such a long period of time. They don’t even use notation any more. They’ve just devised a way to conduct the whole group with nods, looks and head shakes. Look, can you see them there at either side? Bach is doing all the spiky staccato stuff and Brahms is doing the smooth legato. It’s all totally improvised and will never happen again. Every rendition is completely different. They both claim that it is the highest level of composition one can reach. Instantaneous composition, conducting and perform-ance. Sadly I wasn’t good enough to be part of the choir, but man, I love listening to it,” commented Donald as he turned his attentions back to the music.