After taking lunch, I elected to use the remaining downtime to go on a little tour of the campus. It was a shame to be working here, officially at least, and not actually know my way around. It was also a good chance to relax before getting back into the thick of things. The school I attended back home was a state run affair, meaning it was drab, not particularly well maintained and built based on a boiler plate. The rambling, well kept grounds of Unity Academy were the direct opposite of my own school and I was not going to miss the chance to enjoy the atmosphere just a little.

As I completed my circuit around the campus, it struck me how utterly peaceful everything was. If The Voice had not been so adamant that the end of the world was approaching, I would have easily concluded that the world had settled down from the Millennium War. But that was precisely the problem at hand. A thin veneer of peace had been plastered over a surging undercurrent. The histories of the Hero and the Heroines were proof of that. This was a world straining under the weight of various deadly rivalries and feuds. And it was only a matter of time before the dam broke and the current swept everything away.

How did things ever get so bad? My first instinct was to blame The Voice. This whole affair reeked of negligence on the part of our esteemed Administrator. Then I remembered something, I was making the mistake of thinking about both The Voice and Fate in human terms.

The Voice had already acknowledged that it gained nothing from sapient life, or any form of life period, inhabiting this world. From that perspective, mega deaths occurring would be something The Voice would, at best, have no opinion about. More likely, The Voice would cheer the prospect of those deaths weakening the influence of its rival, Fate. So there was no negligence on The Voice's part. It simply was not in The Voice's interest to protect life on this world.

What had changed was Fate managing to hatch a plot where those mega deaths would result in the destruction of The Voice's power as well. The Voice had been out-maneuvered, plain and simple. So that leads us to the bizarre situation of a god of matter trying to protect lives, while the god who rules over souls trying to end them. The irony would be amusing, if I was not right at ground zero.

It was also something that I had to remember. The Voice ultimately does not want to save the world. It wants to save itself. What would happen if The Voice managed to find a way to both keep its power and end the world? I shudder. No prizes on guessing what the natural outcome of that scenario would be. I had to keep my head clear and in the game if I wanted to walk away from all this alive.

If it came down to it, would I help The Voice end the world in return for a ticket home?

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I don't know. I don't want to know.

...

It is in this pensive mood that I make my way to the main hall. As I approach, I hear the thrill of violins and the melody of a piano sounding out in harmony. An orchestra? Not something I was expecting an idol singer to be participating in, but Alley did mention the event being on the lines of a proper recital rather than a teeny bopper concert. I push open the double doors of the main hall and step inside.

And what meets me is an absolutely massive field of spirituality.

The entire hall is covered by this spiritual field, radiating from a distinguished looking wolf eared gentleman standing on stage. He carries a conductor's baton in his hand and directs the orchestra rehearsing on stage with it. As the orchestra plays at the direction of this man, the spiritual field rises and falls in harmony with the music. Like a gentle wave, the spirituality flows over the small crowd gathered near the stage and eventually washes over me as well.

I grimace in discomfort as I am enveloped by the wave. The once melodious music suddenly becomes completely off key and reminds me of a power drill boring into a wall. Loud, unpleasant and annoying. If the Academy is hoping to impress VIPs with this performance, the Board of Governors might want to rethink that plan.

Then I notice the crowd gathered by the stage. They move in harmony as the wave of spirituality sweeps through them. They are no signs of discomfort or annoyance coming from the crowd. As the orchestra plays, the crowd gets more and more wrapped up in the performance and it soon becomes clear that the conductor is not just directing the orchestra, but the crowd as well. Its as if the orchestra and crowd had morphed into a single, indivisible being.

Was it a matter of perception? As an outsider not of this world, could I just not be able to perceive whatever magic the conductor was using?

At this point of the rehearsal, the Idol steps forward on the stage and begins to sing, in I dunno, Latin? Her spiritual field flares and expands outwards in the same style of the conductor, though it is much weaker. As she sings, the field begins to pulse, and waves gently sweep towards the crowd and myself. She is doing the exact same thing the conductor is doing. This means that the conductor must be that teacher, Trietel.

The crowd sighs in rapture as the waves of spirituality from the Idol wash over them. I wish I could hear whatever they were hearing, since from my perspective, the power drill had been joined by a berserk howler monkey. I rub my right ear in irritation as the shrieking and drilling reaches a crescendo.

With a final swing of his baton, Conductor concludes the set and the noise mercifully stops. The spiritual fields exerted by both the Conductor and the Idol disperse. The crowd sighs in disappointment at the end of the performance before breaking out in applause. Conductor bows gracefully while the Idol blushes and blows kisses into the crowd.

"Alright," the Conductor says, "take a break everyone. We still have many more sets to rehearse."

The crowd begins to disperse as the orchestra sets their instruments down and leave for their break. I square my shoulders and move towards the stage.

One show may be over, but another was about to begin.