The Fredösphere

Every inhabited planet in the galaxy wanted Zladimir Zlamikof.  He was the greatest conductor of his time, but his time was 4000 years ago, in the frame of reference of planet HD 3843245 d.  He was one of an elite group of performers, politicians, scientists, and soldiers whose jobs required them to travel repeatedly among the stars. Frequent trips at relativistic speeds meant time passed more slowly for Zladimir than for planet-bound persons.

As he stepped off the gangplank and onto the surface of the rocket pad, a young woman from the orchestra appeared to shake his right hand and stuff sheets of music into his left.  He scanned the music for the composer's name (unrecognized, and unpronounceable, of course) and the dates following it.  He tried to perform the calculation in his head.

The woman anticipated his question.  "It was written 3000 years after you graduated from the conservatory, and 40 years after your flight departed HD 870684 Ac.  And since your starship arrived late, you've missed your one chance to rehearse it with the orchestra."

"I can't seem to make sense of this notation."

"Notation has...has evolved while you were in transit.  Your flight lasted 85 years, in local time.

"Ah, well.  It won't be the first time I've conducted by the seat of my pants."

"You won't be wearing pants.  You won't be wearing any clothes at all.  The chocolate pudding would ruin them."

"Chocolate...?"

"You and the musicians will be submerged in a huge vat of chocolate pudding.  It's how we do classical music now."

The great conductor's eyes were looking at the woman, but seeing nothing.

"Isn't chocolate pudding... bad ... for the violins?"

Labels: FictionOpeners