Free London Harmony: Minuette by Erik Schubach Page B

it.  It had something to do with Natasha who seemed amazed by the machine and spent every second she could when she visited here to operate the unit.  I noted she always closed her eyes when she did, her hand on the screen.  One day I'll get up the nerve to ask about it.
    I assumed the additions to the unit were the wireless communications modules to allow it to stream the music and data to create the faces of the musicians and tactile streams of music on the metamorphic screen.  That was a heck of a lot of data.
    Fran had shared that each track contained over two and a half gigabytes of information as opposed to a simple MP3 file that averaged around five megabytes.  You could pack five hundred MP3 files into the same space as a single SmartCanvas file.
    She absently handed me a list and I started typing at the console as she listened to her intros that they had sent up from downstairs.  She screwed up her face. “It is always weird hearing your own voice.  It never sounds like it does in my head.”
    I chuckled and said, “You mean with too many long words that most people don't understand.”
    She exploded into a surprised laugh.  “There you go!  We're getting through that shell of yours.  Nice burn.”
    I blushed, I was feeling awfully cheeky just then.
    I kept typing with a grin on my face, then paused.
    She glanced over and asked, “What is it?”
    I shrugged.  “Nothing, it's stupid really.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Out with it.”
    I exhaled in defeat and explained, “I just realized that this is the longest anyone has ever kept me employed. I never quite... fit in... with my ummm... idiosyncrasies.  And this is the one job I didn't want, you sort of, made me take it.”
    She crinkled her nose with good humor and said, “It is... unique... people that make up our entire family here, so you fit right in.”
    I was sort of sad that the day was rapidly coming when I wouldn't be working here anymore, either by choice or getting sacked if they ever learned the truth or finally gave up on finding Minuette.  I did more work here organizing things and truly becoming Fran's Girl Friday, than Minuette work.  I really did like it here and especially liked all the odd people.  The quirks of the people around us were endearing, and I enjoyed them all.
    Fran smiled at me, then pulled up her email.  She squinted and just asked out of the blue, “Can you sing Nett?”
    I blinked at the question and asked carefully, “Why?”
    She wiggled her eyebrows and said, “No reason.  You seem to really enjoy music, I hear you humming along all the time but you never sing.”
    I just buried my chin in my fists and shook my head.
    She grinned and said, “Don't worry about it.  Well, come on down to the iso booth, you can watch me flounder a couple intros for SmartCanvas tracks.  Maybe we can mock one up for Minuette to show her the results once we locate her.”
    The silly look on her face was priceless.
    I nodded timidly then we headed toward the door.
    As we walked, she started saying, “Five, seven, four, ten.”
    I lost track of my count and shot an incredulous look at the far too smiley woman as I had to turn around and start over again.
    I said in a mock accusing tone, “You're supposed to be the nice one, Small Fry.”
    She just chuckled all the way down the stairs with me down to the second floor.  The 'recording' light went out on the larger sound room.
    I haven't seen the inside of that one yet.  I mean it was always occupied when I pass it, but I have never seen inside it or who was recording.  I am intimately familiar with the other one as Fran drags me down to watch her in the little isolation booth when she needs to re-record an intro for a SmartCanvas track.
    The door swung open as we approached and a group of people walked out.  They were all moving in a tight group.  I blinked twice as my smile grew when I saw the short girl, with obvious Asian heritage, who had a guitar slung over her