Chapter 26 - The Man Before Daniel
Samuel took the photograph.
His face changed immediately.
Daniel descended from the platform.
“You recognize it.”
Samuel turned the image over.
The date was thirty-one years earlier.
Long before Daniel was born.
The younger Samuel stood behind a piano.
The Director’s hand rested on his shoulder.
Twelve looked between them.
“You were chosen.”
Samuel said nothing.
Julian stepped closer.
“You were the first Conductor.”
“No.”
The Director’s voice echoed from the screen.
“He was the first successful one.”
Samuel looked toward the camera.
“You promised the children would be released.”
“I promised nothing. You heard what you needed to hear.”
Daniel stared at Samuel.
“You trained children too.”
Samuel’s jaw tightened.
“I believed it was a scholarship program.”
“For how long?”
“Two years.”
Julian laughed bitterly.
“And after you understood?”
Samuel looked at the twelve children.
“I burned the original training wing.”
Daniel remembered the studio fire.
“That was not the first fire.”
“No.”
“The Winter Room fire copied what you had already done.”
Samuel nodded.
Arthur had used the same method because he had learned it from the trust.
The children began moving away from the pianos.
Four stopped beside Samuel.
“You chose my mother.”
Samuel looked confused.
Four continued.
“She was Number Nine.”
Samuel’s expression collapsed.
“That was decades ago.”
“She remembered your hands.”
The boy pointed toward Samuel’s fingers.
“She said you always hesitated before choosing.”
Samuel lowered his eyes.
“I tried to save the ones I could.”
Four replied calmly.
“You chose who deserved saving.”
The words silenced the chamber.
Daniel looked toward the sealed exits.
“We deal with the past after we get everyone out.”
The youngest child approached the conductor’s platform and pressed a hidden switch beneath the rail.
A section of the wall opened.
Behind it was a long corridor lined with portraits of former conductors.
Samuel.
Daniel.
Julian.
And dozens more.
Daniel walked along the wall.
Some were children.
Others were adults.
At the end hung a portrait of Clara.
The paint was still wet.
Julian touched it.
“She has already been registered.”
The ballroom monitor showed Clara seated at the grand piano.
The Director stood behind her.
Michael Arden held a pistol against Victor’s neck.
Lydia, Elena, Eleanor, and Arthur were nowhere visible.
Daniel spoke toward the camera.
“Where are they?”
The Director adjusted the silver metronome.
“Preparing for the second movement.”
The twelve children suddenly began humming together.
The sound matched the melody hidden beneath Clara’s lessons.
Twelve looked frightened.
“They only hum that when the transfer chamber opens.”
Samuel turned toward the corridor.
“What transfer chamber?”
Four answered.
“The room where names become bodies.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Before Four could explain, Clara pressed a piano key on-screen.
One of the portraits in the corridor changed.
Daniel’s painted face slowly transformed into another man’s.
Then the same thing happened to Julian’s portrait.
And Samuel’s.
May you like
The Director smiled.
“Identity does not belong to the person. It belongs to the record.”
