A Prince of Dissonance

Sonus System cont.

“The Sonus System destroyed the pillars that kept the unjust and unfair norms of the old society. It paved the way for real change to come and sweep across what remains of human civilization.” a girl wearing a winged-headband which held her long glorious blonde hair, slams the desk rendering the room quiet as she gains attention. “In the old world, women were seen as inferior to men, but now the current system has made it so that both men and women are equal in footing.”

“While I do agree that men and women possess equal rights and freedoms in all existing parts of the human civilization, might I remind the honorable lady from the Valhallan Conservatory that what’s left of the human civilization is about 20% of the world population before the fallout,” a lad with a triangular cape answer. He flicks his cape back as he pauses. “88% of the world’s surface is uninhabitable, and we are left scrambling for what little resources are left. The disparity between rich and poor has also become greater compared to the old world. Ten people control and own 99% of the world’s total remaining economic resources—just how great is this kind of change?”

“They favor the change because they benefit from it,” the ebony-skinned gal blurts out of the blue. “The Valhallan Conservatory receives donations from the Genial Dix.”

“That’s enough,” Antoine tries to diffuse the heated argument, but his voice is not enough—the bickering raged on. He grabs a mallet from inside a cabinet and bangs the desktop. “I said enough,” silence follows his stern command.

My eye turned to the blond-haired boy who emphasized von der Leyen’s role in increasing criminal activity. He looks at the other black-haired boy, who replies that the crimes are due to state action, and gives him the tongue and eye bat combo. This infuriates him, he then grabs his ukulele and calls forth the power of his Sonus Stone. The air inside the room focuses on a single point and strikes the blond boy, hurling him to the far wall. His friends avenged him using their powers.

“L’amour est un oiseau rebelle,” the students from the Academy of Occult Songs utter and their sonus stones glow in response. They become weightless. They glided to the ceiling of the room and avoided the brawl that was about to ensue.

A girl wearing a winged headband, the symbol of the Valhallan Conservatory, stands on top of the desk and begins singing a powerful aria that reverberated throughout the entire room. Everything vibrated in accordance with her voice, the floor, the windows, the desk, I could even feel my teeth and bones vibrating.

She’s going too far. My eardrums are going to break. My bones will shatter.

A girl wearing a blue dress counters her with a gentle melodic and melancholic chant. The effects of her bone-shivering and mind-breaking aria wore off.

At this point, Antoine can no longer stop the fight. He uses a harp and summons the power of the blank resonance, but the degree of chaos is too much for him. I saw him leave the room hurriedly, moving to the left.

I moved to the front of the classroom. I would have been caught in the crossfire if I had stayed in my seat—in the middle of the crowd. Kyle is in the left part of the classroom. He uses an EDM board to channel his powers. Sound Engineers can amplify or strengthen the effects of other Sonus Stones or suppress or weaken them. There were also Sound Engineers on the other side. Together, they reduced each other’s blows, making sure that the classroom did not get destroyed because of this chaos. Or, at least, that’s how I liked to think about what they were doing.

Water, fire, air, lightning, rose petals, metal, and wood flew indiscriminately at each other. Swathes of light and shadow sprinkle over both sides. Mystic vibrations pulsated but were greatly weakened because of the Sound Engineers. Suddenly, the air became heavy, and everyone’s powers became sluggish. A soothing sound surreptitiously surrounds the crowd. It feels like being in a garden with lotuses, experiencing Zen.

“That ought to calm things down,” a female professor with black bob-cut hair graced the room with her presence and her harp, which she placed on the front table. She continued to play the mellow melody of her song, which calmed my heart and soul. “Duo des fleurs from Lakmé by Leo Delibes. This song contains and relaxes the heart, body, and soul.”

“I’ll treat you to that Korean restaurant for your help,” Antoine murmured behind her with a straight face. He stepped forward moving past the table. His eyes darted from Kyle’s side, where I was, to the other group. “Okay, who instigated this conflict?”

Not a single soul answered. I see doubt and regret in their eyes. The blooming intent of apology to the people they have wronged. Their eyes scramble—searching for someone who can take the fall—who will have the courage to tell the truth and create an enemy of those they would incriminate? Humanity has grown for centuries. Will its growth shine through here?

“It was Kyle who started the fight. He started it with the guy with a blank resonance,” the blond-haired boy pointed Kyle and me out. He fixes the hems of his long white sleeves as he finishes speaking. His blue tie indicates that he’s a first-year student like me. Still, the Sonus Stone hanging from his left pocket says he is from the Eb resonance department—the Academy of Occult Songs. His green irises bloom as he gives me a side-eye. His long black slacks and black Italian leather show sandwiches on his white socks. So, it seems humanity will never be righteous at any age. Aristotle and Obama would be disappointed. “I saw them conversing while you were discussing before the brawl, professor.”

“Is this true, Kyle, Ian?” Antoine turns to us, begging me to say that it was not true—and it wasn’t. “Did you instigate the fight?”

“No, professor.” Kyle butted in before I could find the words to say. “The person who accuses us of this madness is the one who began the fight himself.”

“Lies,” the blond boy stomps the wooden-tiled floor polished with linoleum, but the impact bounces off because of the fluffy rug. “That is what a liar would say.”

“There’s only one way to find out then,” the female professor begins a mystical chant. A blob of water appeared before her, shifting into a flat disc-shaped surface. It became utterly still like a mirror, but its essence and the incessant shimmering soft sound it makes—a constant B6, which sounds like beating a wine glass with a fork but serene and soothing—distinguishes it from an ordinary mirror. “Reflections of water which can see beyond time. What happened here?”

The mirror plays a sonata of harps and soprano voices so loud that the entire classroom felt filled with them. The professor snatched a thin string from her pocket—it was too far for me to clearly see what it was. She places it inside the mirror, and everything that has happened is recalled by the mirror.

“It was you who did it, after all, Mr. Ronstadt.” The water mirror that revealed the past dispels, leaving steam of white air utterly evaporating in seconds. Reaching her hand, the blond boy’s Sonus Stone flings to the professor’s right hand. “Proceed to the guidance counselor’s office and your dean’s office for disciplinary action. As for the rest of you, the guidance counselor will have a word.”

“Appreciate the help, Dr. Rusalka,” Antoine curtsies as she exits. But as she stepped out, the girl from Ronstadt’s group grabbed her microphone and rapped. Sound waves emanate throughout the classroom dispelling the effects of Duo des fleurs. “Should have seen this coming.”

Antoine jumped and knocked the girl unconscious before she could do any more damage. Her black hair dangles from her back and leans against Antoine’s arms. Her colorful jacket spoke volumes of her department—the most contrast to Dr. Rusalka’s Gb/F# resonance, which is C—the Studio of Pop.

Destructive interference is when two different sound waves cancel each other out. In the Sonus Resonance, the position in the Circle of Fifths charts determines the key with the highest destructive interference. Dr. Rusalka, the Dean of the Chamber of Harps and Arias, has a Gb/F# resonance. Its exact opposite in the Circle of Fifths is C—explaining why the girl quickly blew her high-level spell.

“I will escort Mr. Ronstadt and Ms. Beaumont to the guidance counselor’s office,” Antoine declares, carrying the unconscious Ms. Beaumont in his arms. “Class is dismissed for today.”

“You saved me,” I tapped Kyle’s shoulder as we descended the linoleum-polished fir stairs. “I thought I was done for. I still can’t believe they would try to pin the blame on me—when I didn’t really do anything. I just watched as you started a world war—a lecture room war, to be exact.”

“The truth always sets us free,” Kyle laughs as we both step on the diamond-styled wooden-tiled landing. “People tend to be discriminatory towards people with a blank Sonus Resonance. If this was in the old world, it would have equated to racism or s****m, but now this kind of bigotry exists, and it must not be allowed to be fostered.”

Racism and s****m—the two pettiest problems that afflicted the old world. Now it’s against people like me. Is there a human tendency to be cruel to people who are different or out of the norm? Kyle taps my shoulder as he notices me staring blankly ahead. We reached the grand foyer of Skybeat Tower after descending the left staircase. The number of people on the first floor suggests that the word of the ‘lecture room war’ has spread like wildfire, blazing gloriously before people realize it. I should probably get out of here before people try to shift the story.

I suddenly felt a hand behind my shoulder pulling me to the side entrance. It was Kyle.

“Ignore the crowd,” he whispers as he pushes me to the side exit. We go down the cobblestone stairs and run to the thin groves beside the circling road. “Word spreads fast here in SU and so do rumors. People, especially the ones close to the guilty party, will try to pin the blame on you. But those who were in the scene will do the right thing, I’m sure of that.”

“I appreciate your concern, Kyle.” My right hand automatically scratched my right occipital, as if I felt embarrassed, but in a fuzzy way.

“If anyone bothers you, don’t hesitate to call me,” he handed a piece of paper that contained his contact details—from his phone number to his emails, even personal ones. “Anyway, I must get going. My degree isn’t going to work for itself. See you around.”

“See you,” I waved goodbye as I grabbed my smartphone and registered his contact details.