Paradigm City - Fan Fiction

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Player Piano

Chapter 7

They emerged on the sidewalk. Instro said, "It's only a block this way," and led off to the right. Roger and Dastun flanked Dorothy, and Norman took up the rear.

"Talk of the Town" was a small ground level bar with a tiny stage dominated by an upright piano. There were only a couple other customers inside, so Roger and Instro simply pushed two of the round tables together to make enough room for the five of them to sit. Roger and Dastun ordered scotch, Norman a brandy, and the two androids soda water. The short menu leaned heavily toward burgers and steaks. Roger suggested the latter, and Dastun agreed. Norman decided to forgo dinner.

For some reason, Roger found it hard to say anything to Dorothy. He'd open his mouth, but her steady gaze drove the words from him. He finished his drink, ordered another.

Instro seemed restless. His words came faster than usual, almost as if he were still in the grip of the concert's excitement. He talked about previous concerts, how his father and he had made a habit of visiting this place after a concert, and how they'd often end up playing duets.

He got up and talked with the bartender, who nodded and gestured toward the piano. Instro sat before it, tried an octave, then started into another of the ragtime pieces his father had enjoyed. This was, oddly enough, a march. He followed it by a ragtime waltz.

One of the other two customers walked up to the piano, smiling, and Instro surrendered it to him. This new player played a type of jazz involving runs up and down the scale. Instro called it "stride."

More customers came in, and the bar was soon half-full. Most of those there were performers, and quite a number came up to play at the piano.

Roger grinned at Instro. "Is performing limited to professionals?" Instro shook his head 'no.' "Well, in that case," Roger continued, standing, "I'll give you a song." He stepped briskly up to the piano as the current player finished his number.

"Can Roger play?" asked Dorothy. She'd never seen him perform at the piano.

"Certainly he can; I taught him," replied Instro. Dastun smiled and nodded.

Norman said, "He used to play regularly before you arrived, Dorothy."

Roger stepped up to the stage and sat at the piano. He flipped through the songbook up on the piano until he found what he wanted. "Paper Doll," he announced, and started a moderately slow, jazzy rendition:

I guess I had a million dolls or more
I guess I've played the doll game o'er and o'er
I just quarreled with Sue, that's why I'm blue
She's gone away and left me just like all dolls do

He glanced up at the table. Dastun and Norman were smiling, Instro looked neutral, and Dorothy had a puzzled look in her eyes. He took a breath, and continued with the second verse:

I'm gonna buy a Paper Doll that I can call my own
A doll that other fellows cannot steal
And then the flirty, flirty guys with their flirty, flirty eyes
Will have to flirt with dollies that are real

"Hey," said a voice by Roger's side. He looked up, smiling but irritated, and recognized Edward Bell. He was built like a linebacker, but one not in top condition.

"Can I help you?" Roger inquired, his hands poised over the keyboard.

"You can shut that damn trap of yours," snarled the other. You can't sing any better than your robot girlfriend can play."

Roger heard a buzzing in his head. "I appreciate the compliment," he said slowly, "but this isn't the place to discuss artistic merit. Perhaps we could adjourn to your table," he said, and started to stand.

Bell didn't wait. He swung and connected with Roger's left eye. Roger stumbled back, tripping over the stool. He kicked the stool away, and rolled to his feet.

The buzzing became a song. Roger felt clear-headed and happy, the way he did in Big O. "Wanna play rough, do you?" Roger chuckled.

Bell snarled something incoherent and charged toward Roger, who side-stepped off the stage. The tables and chairs on the main floor were an inconvenience he dealt with by sliding all within reach out of the way.

"Damn you," shouted Bell, "you can't just waltz in and rent the Orchestra for your toy. We have our standards!" He jumped off the stage and stalked toward Roger.

"You might try taking the blinders off," retorted Roger. "She auditioned like anyone else." He circled to give himself some room.

"Sure, she auditioned," Bell commented bitterly. "It was a put-up job. Any player piano can do the same. Just stick in the right roll."

Roger's voice shook. "Instro and Dorothy are persons, not machines. They have their talents, as I presume even you do."

Bell's eyes glittered as he saw his last hit score. "You can't call it talent when they are built for the purpose." Roger shook his head in denial, and Bell pressed on, "And what does she have that's worth a bribe that size? She's nothing but a stick!"

"You have no right!" shouted Roger. He feinted at Bell's face to make the other flinch, then swung low with the other hand, aiming at his midriff. Bell was just fast enough to block that, but he couldn't stop the third jab that connected with his nose. Roger followed that with a punch to Bell's gut that folded him over and dropped him to the floor. Roger stood over him, breathing hard. "Get up. Get up, so I can knock you down again."

"Grab him, Norman," came Dastun's voice behind Roger, and Roger found himself held. Roger tried to turn around, but Dastun had his other arm. He was immobilized.

"Now, gentlemen," fussed the owner, "this is not the place for fisticuffs." Something had gone wrong with Roger's sense of time. It seemed so long since he'd stood from the piano, yet except for the open area on the floor, nothing had changed in the bar. Even their dinners had only just arrived.

"We'll just step out a minute," said Dastun over Roger's shoulder. They hustled him out before he had a chance to protest. He tried to look at Dorothy, but she was looking away from him. Was she pleased, or upset? He couldn't tell from her posture.

"Thank god I am not in uniform, or I'd have to arrest you for disorderly conduct," commented Dastun. "Roger, what in hell got into you?" Norman detached himself and returned to the bar.

"I'm not disorderly, he swung first," Roger enunciated.

"Up on the stage, yes. You went after him on the floor, yelling 'You have no right -'" He looked at Roger. "Who was that fellow, anyway?"

Roger sighed, "Oh, he's the brother of the noisy clod behind us at the concert. He felt his place had been usurped when Dorothy and Instro were guest performers tonight."

Dastun guffawed. "Hard to imagine classical music inspiring such passion."

Roger looked at him narrowly. Was there a second meaning there?

The door behind them opened. Norman came out with their overcoats. "I've taken care of matters inside, Master Roger. Instro and Dorothy will be right out."

In silence, the five returned to the concert hall, where Instro wished them a good night and left.

Norman looked at Roger and suggested, "I think you will want to rest that eye, Master Roger. I'll drive the Griffon." In the aftermath of the fight, Roger's eye was swollen and his right hand had two split knuckles, which he wrapped in a handkerchief and thrust in his pocket. Norman dropped Dastun off at his apartment, then drove home.

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