“Fifteen
minutes, Miss Kirk! They
want you backstage in five!”
“Alright.
Be right out.”
Lisa stared
at her reflection in the mirror.
OK, let me get
these names straight, she thought, closing her eyes and
losing sight of her reflection as she fumbled mentally
through her list of people she had to credit.
National
Symphony Orchestra and Chorale, John Galloway, Theresa
Williamson…OK,
I think I got them.
The young Welsh girl opened her eyes and took a deep
breath. I’m
ready. She
smiled at her reflection and giggled lightly.
She pushed her long, light brown hair away from her
face and stood up from her chair, turned and moved toward
the door.
The door
abruptly opened just as she reached for the knob, and a
stagehand burst through, nearly knocking Lisa over.
She lost her balance, but grabbed a table near the
door, preventing a fall.
“Oh, sorry, Miss Kirk.
You OK?” the stagehand said apologetically,
offering a hand.
“Yeah,
I’m fine,” she said annoyingly, struggling to regain her
balance. “I’m
ready.” She
forced a smile, but her frustration melted whatever
cheerfulness she was trying to convey.
The
stagehand forced back a nervous smile.
“OK.” He
looked at her sheepishly.
“Can I ask you for your autograph?
I’ve been a fan since your first album, and I’ve
been waiting for this moment for a long time.”
Lisa’s
face brightened. “Sure!
You got something to write with?”
“Yeah,”
he said. He
took a pen out of his shirt pocket, and produced a copy of
Lisa’s latest compact disc.
“Here, sign here on th-the front cover of, of the
insert,” he stammered.
“What’s
your name?”
“Tom.”
“OK.
‘To Tom, Love Lisa,’” she said, writing
quickly. She
handed the pen and insert back to Tom.
“Thanks,
Miss Kirk!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, come
on. I’m only
fifteen. You
have to be at least
ten years older than me.
Call me Lisa,” she said with a Welsh lilt, smiling
broadly.
“OK,
L-Lisa,” he stammered.
“Well, they want you backstage now.
Thanks again!”
“My
pleasure.” She
picked up a half-filled water bottle, turned and walked
toward the stage door, where her mother, Martha, and a young
girl and her parents were waiting.
“Lisa,
before you go out there I want you to meet Jessica.
She’s a singer, too,” Martha said as Lisa ambled
down the hallway toward them.
“She and her parents and I met outside the door and
chatted for a while.”
Lisa smiled
politely at them and shook everyone’s hands. “Pleasure
to meet you all.” She
turned to Jessica. “Well,
hi there!” she said with a distinct lilt.
“Where do you sing?”
Jessica,
who looked around seven years old, said “At my church with
the children’s choir.
I wanna be just like you, Lisa.”
Her eyes darted around nervously as she spoke.
“That’s
wonderful, Jessica! I
started out singing in church, too.”
Jessica’s parents, beaming with delight, handed
Lisa a pen and a CD insert.
“Could you hold this please,” she said to Martha,
handing her the water bottle, then turned back to Jessica.
“Well, I hope that all your dreams come true,”
she said while scribbling her autograph on the insert.
She handed the insert and pen back to Jessica’s
parents, turned back to Jessica, and touched her shoulder.
“I have to go onstage now.
I hope to see you after the show.”
She turned to leave.
Jessica’s
mother raised her hand slightly.
“Oh, one more thing.
Can we have a picture?”
“Sure,”
said Lisa, with just a hint of frustration in her voice.
Lisa’s mother took a small disposable camera from
Jessica’s father, who joined them for a pose.
Martha snapped their picture.
“OK, now I really
have to go now,” she said hurriedly.
“Sorry to cut you off so short.”
“Thanks
for your time,” said Jessica’s father, shaking her hand.
Lisa smiled and hastened to the door.
A security guard escorted Jessica’s party back
toward the general public seating area.
Backstage,
Lisa checked herself one last time in a mirror, with Martha
standing behind her to make sure her outfit was buttoned
properly. They
could hear the symphony playing a prelude.
“Those were nice folks,” Martha said
thoughtfully.
“Yeah,
Mum,” Lisa answered.
“But I thought we weren’t going to have any more
guests before shows anymore.”
“Well, I
couldn’t resist these people,” said Martha.
“You know, Jessica reminds me a lot of you when you
were her age. Her
mother told me that her music teacher has high hopes for
her.”
A stagehand
stepped out from behind a curtain.
“One minute, Miss Kirk,” he called.
“OK,”
answered Lisa. “I
just wish I had more time to prepare for these things
sometimes,” she snapped, turning toward her mother.
“You know how I hate being rushed.”
“Hey, it
was only one family this time,” Martha said.
“You’ll be fine, as usual.”
She gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek.
“Good luck. I’ll
see you at intermission.”
As Lisa
stepped from behind the curtain and onto the stage, a
spotlight activated and followed her as she walked through
an aisle between the string and horn sections of the
orchestra. The
audience was on its feet, applauding and cheering wildly.
Lisa smiled broadly as she shook the conductor’s
hand, and stepped up on a small dais that held two five-foot
tall microphones. The
main spotlight was accompanied by several smaller blue and
green lights that seemed to course randomly in different
directions across the front of the concert hall.
The lighting made it difficult for Lisa to make out
anyone in the audience, but was not bright enough to cause
her discomfort.
“Thank
you, everyone. Thank
you,” she said to the audience, smiling brightly, as the
applause slowly waned to silence.
“It’s such a pleasure to be here in the Kennedy
Center again, though I wish the President could be here.
After seeing him at his inauguration, I felt he could
use some dance lessons.”
The audience laughed in approval.
Lisa
continued, her somewhat thick Welsh accent lending a sort of
musical rhythm to her words.
“This first song is a favorite of mine.
It’s about a girl who flirts with some boys on the
street, but she tells them that only one of them can have
her heart.” Lisa
glanced briefly at the conductor, who then turned to the
orchestra and signaled them to begin.
The
orchestra began playing the opening notes to “La
pastorella” by Rossini.
“Son
bella pastorella, che scende ogni mat-TI-INO!!”
The words
flowed from Lisa’s mouth and filled the hall.
She continued singing, and her facial expressions and
body language reflected the light-hearted mood that the aria
was supposed to convey.
Lisa, swept up in the moment, felt she was
Rossini’s beautiful shepherdess, barely noticing that
there was an
audience.
“…ma
il fior del suo pensiero
“ad
uno sol dara! AH-OH!
AH-OHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
Her last
note was a C above C, which she held effortlessly for a full
five seconds. The
orchestra continued playing the final measures of the song
as Lisa, eyes closed, waited.
She did not notice that a ring of barely-visible
rotating white lights had descended from the ceiling and
stopped suspended just one inch above her head.
The ring disappeared as the orchestra hit its final
note, which echoed throughout the hall.
Lisa, awaiting applause, smiled as she opened her
eyes.
She was
greeted by complete silence.
Bewildered,
Lisa looked around furtively.
Everything seemed to be frozen in time.
The conductor had his arms in the familiar
spread-eagle position to end the music.
The orchestra members were still clutching or blowing
into their instruments.
The lights remained fixed in their positions,
unmoving. Many
audience members had their hands upraised as if to begin
applauding, but were as motionless as stone statues.
She made out her parents in the front row, their
faces frozen in broad smiles, hands upraised.
“Hello?”
Lisa spoke into the microphone, but it was not working.
She tapped it a couple of times, but no sound came
out. She turned
to the conductor and tried to get his attention.
“Maestro?” She
stepped off the dais and reached for the conductor’s arm.
To her surprise, her hand passed right through the
conductor’s arm, and she lost her balance and fell.
To her further surprise, an unseen force broke her
fall and quickly sprang her back to her feet, as if she had
a giant rubber band attached to her back.
“Confusing,
isn’t it,” called a male voice.
Startled,
Lisa looked around, searching for the source of the voice.
A man walked out from the third row of the audience
and made his way to the stage.
He was dressed in a regular brownish button-down
collared shirt and khakis.
“No doubt, you have a ton of questions for me.”
“Who are
you?” she asked, retreating slightly.
“I’m
Bob Anderson,” he said, offering a handshake.
“Colonel Robert Anderson, to be exact.
But I hate the title.
I’m actually a truck driver from Indiana.”
Bob was at least two heads taller than Lisa, who was
only a little over five feet in height.
She took his hand and shook it lightly.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said.
“What are
you talking about,” asked Lisa, still bewildered.
“What’s going on here?”
Bob sat
down on the edge of the dais.
“Well, technically speaking, we are in a level-5
temporal incursion, and the two of us are protected by
level-5 temporal barriers.
In simple terms, I have stopped time for the two of
us.”
Lisa
sniffed and cocked her head slightly.
“Yeah, right,” she said, her left hand on her
hip.
“Look
around you and try to explain this, then,” Bob answered,
motioning with his arms.
“Can you?”
Lisa again
scanned the orchestra, frozen in time.
“Well, not really.
So how?”
Bob stood
up. “That’s
part of the proposition.
What I’m offering you is an opportunity to both
fulfill all of your dreams and
to save the human race from unthinkable destruction.”
“Huh?
What are you talking about?” she asked quizzically.
Bob sighed.
“Well, this will take some explaining, and some of
it - - OK, all of
it - - sounds unbelievable.
But if you find yourself having trouble believing,
just take a good look around you.”
He sat back down on the dais.
“About two months ago,” he began, “I was
visited by a couple of aliens from a planet orbiting the
star we call Altair, or Alpha Aquilae
if you want to get technical.
They told me that a malevolent race called the
She’reed was making plans to colonize Earth, and would do
so within 10 years. Unfortunately,
they travel in ships that can cross the temporal threshold
and can be anywhere in literally no time.
Much like you see here.
So these good aliens, who we call the Altaireans
because our language has no translation for their real name,
have come to our aid, as they have with others.
“The
Altaireans have figured out how to manipulate the space-time
continuum. We
think of time like a straight line going in one direction,
kind of like a marathon race-course, the difference being
that all we can do is run straight ahead at a constant pace
without stopping, with the ‘past’ behind and the
‘future’ in front.
What the Altaireans can do is actually stop the
runner in one spot, and have him move laterally on the
course. In
reality, we are suspended in the ‘present’ and can
potentially occupy every square inch of the universe at the
same time.”
Lisa,
unable to completely grasp what Bob had just said, was about
to say something sarcastic, but thought better of it with
another glance at the frozen orchestra.
“So…what does this have to do with me?
Isn’t the military going to deal with this?”
Bob
continued, “That’s just it.
The Altaireans are at least a thousand years ahead of
us in technology, and they have a policy of non-interference
with ‘primitive’ races such as ourselves.
However, they’ve been at war with the She’reed
for decades, and they are not willing to see them create new
bases in other systems.
So their motivation is not all altruistic, by any
means. Their
policy limits their involvement on our world to the
formation of an ultra-secret defense force, which I, as the
first recruit, have named the Guardians.
We have about 150 people, but the Altaireans say we
need at least 500 to adequately defend ourselves.
The Guardians consist of regular people who are
compatible with this device.”
He stretched out his hand, and what looked like a
pair of glasses materialized.
“This headpiece is the key to our survival.
We each wear one just like this.”
Lisa looked
at Bob’s face. “I
don’t see any glasses on you.”
“That’s
because they’re cloaked…hidden as it were,” he said.
“I didn’t used to wear glasses before, so I have
to keep my cover.”
“So what
do they do?” asked Lisa.
“Put them
on and you’ll find out.”
Lisa took
the glasses from Bob and put them on.
She was overtaken instantly by a wave of dizziness.
She shut her eyes and stumbled, reaching for the
floor. “Don’t
worry about the dizziness,” said Bob.
“The device is reconfiguring your brain so it can
interface directly with your mind.
It’ll go away…right about…now.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Lisa immediately
felt completely normal again, and she opened her eyes.
In her field of vision, she saw a blinking cursor in
the lower left that maintained its position wherever she
looked. It was
as if her vision had been transformed into a computer
screen.
“Whoa,”
she said. “Now
what am I supposed to do with this?”
“Just
think, and the device will do just about anything you
want,” said Bob. “And
I mean anything.
Move objects, make things appear and disappear.
The technology is based on something we call
‘microprobes,’ which are tiny robots that can do just
about anything from create objects out of thin air to
transporting persons and objects over great distances.
They convert matter into energy and back, and also
create energy shields and things like firearms and such.
The headpiece is the source of power, and it has
quadrupled your brain capacity and sensory perception.
You now have the capability of learning and
processing information greater than you can ever imagine,
with the proper training.
Furthermore, after your body reaches maturity, the
device will maintain your functions indefinitely, so you
will not age.”
Lisa, now
overwhelmed by her situation, sat down next to Bob on the
dais. “I take
it that I can’t tell anyone about this, right?”
Bob nodded.
“Furthermore, you can’t interfere with the
natural course of events on this planet, aside from
defending it against alien attack, which we do from time to
time. You may
use your new abilities to defend yourself and to better
yourself, but you cannot do anything that will alter the
lives of other people.
We cannot take any risks.
This is why we move through
people when in suspension.”
Lisa
shrugged. “OK.
I think I can do that.”
“You’d
better,” Bob warned.
“If you don’t, your device will be removed, and
all memories of this experience will be wiped.
You won’t remember ever meeting me here.”
Lisa looked
at the cursor in her vision field.
Hmm, she
thought.
I could use a bottle of water.
The cursor flashed “MATERIALIZE WATER BOTTLE,”
and immediately a full, cold water bottle materialized on
the dais next to her. “Wicked,”
she whispered. She
took a couple of gulps from the bottle, and ordered it to
disappear.
“That’s
just the beginning,” Bob said.
“I’ll give you some time to get used to wearing
the device. In
the meantime, you have a show to finish.”
Bob got up and walked back to his third row seat.
“See you around.
Consider yourself recruited, Lieutenant.
I’ll be in touch.
We have a lot of work to do!”
“Wait,”
Lisa called out. “How
do I get back?”
“Just
think it!” Bob called from the audience.
She did,
and the headpiece seemed to disappear.
The hall was suddenly filled with thundering applause
and cheers. “Thank
you, everyone,” she said into the microphone, smiling
broadly. In her
vision field, even with the bright lights shining in her
face she could now make out her parents, who were smiling,
too.
The rest of
the concert continued without incident, and it was a
smashing success. Afterward,
Lisa went to the dressing room backstage with Martha and
changed back into streetclothes.
She sat down in front of the lighted mirror, the
headpiece resembling her regular glasses, and began reading
the cards that accompanied several bouquets of flowers and
stuffed animals from audience members.
However, she was distracted by what had transpired
earlier that evening with Bob that she did not notice Martha
calling her name.
“Lisa.
You there?”
“Huh?”
said Lisa, torn from her reverie.
“What’s
wrong?” asked Martha, touching her daughter’s shoulder.
Lisa turned
to face her. “Nothing,
really,” she said. “I’m
just distracted, that’s all.
I’m just thinking about what I’m going to be
doing in the future.”
Martha
sighed. “Well,
after this U.S. tour is over, we’ll have to think it over,
I guess. I know
you are thinking about moving away from classical, but…”
“But
it’s not that,” Lisa interrupted.
“I’m starting to feel that there are concerns and
problems in the world that are bigger than myself, and I
don’t know what to do about them.”
She put the cards down and stared into her reflection
in the mirror.
Martha
walked over to the other side of the room, picked up a
chair, set it down next to Lisa, and sat down.
“You are doing the best you can with what you
have,” she began. “I
can’t imagine what more you can do through your music.”
“But you
don’t understand. You
can’t
understand,” said Lisa, turning away.
“All of a sudden it feels like the weight of the
world is on my shoulders.”
Martha
smiled and reached over and held her daughter.
“Don’t worry about being something you’re not.
You have an extraordinary gift and an extraordinary
heart. Never
lose sight of who you are.”
Lisa
embraced her mother. “Thanks,
Mum,” she said softly.
Martha
withdrew. “Now,
let’s get going. We
have a dinner invitation to go to, and I know you want to
meet the fans outside the building, too.
Someone will come by and pick up all of your stuff
and deliver them to our hotel.”
Martha motioned her toward the door.
Lisa
nodded. “OK,
but can you give me a couple of seconds?”
“OK, but
not too long.” Martha
opened the door and went into the hallway.
Lisa turned
back to her reflection in the mirror.
She could hear people talking and moving about behind
the walls. She
did not feel like facing the world outside the dressing room
door. Wait
a minute, she thought.
I don’t have
to! In her
vision field, “LEVEL 5 TEMPORAL INCURSION” appeared.
Immediately, there was complete silence.
She looked at her watch.
10:00. The
second hand was frozen in place.
Lisa walked outside the dressing room and saw several
motionless people.
“Wicked!”
she said out loud. “But
now what?” She
paced around the hallway.
Well, I
can’t go shopping now, can I.
Suddenly, she had a thought.
A small rotating ring of white lights appeared over
her head, and the next thing she knew she was at Giza,
standing atop the Great Pyramid of Cheops.
It was breathtaking.
The air was completely still, but warm, and the sun
was low in the eastern horizon.
She could see the tops of the other pyramids, the
Sphinx, and the Nile River in the distance.
At the base of the pyramid, she could see people
frozen in time, cameras at the ready.
“Whoa,” she murmured, overwhelmed by the view.
She sat down on a ledge for what felt like an hour,
her legs dangling and unable to reach the bottom of the next
lower step of the pyramid.
OK,
she thought. Now
how about… The
scene dissolved, and next thing she knew she was standing at
the lip of a massive gorge.
The sun was now very low on the western horizon, but
there was enough frozen light to illuminate the canyon
floor. Lisa
looked down in awe at the Colorado River, a couple of miles
below her feet, and then at the time-worn canyon walls,
colored in different alternating layers of dark and light
red, orange and yellow shades, reflecting millions of years
of erosion. Downstream,
she saw a cloud mass gathering inside
the canyon, with a flicker of a lighting bolt suspended in
time. Around
her, a group of tourists stood in unmoving poses, their
cameras cocked into position.
She sat down at the lip of the gorge for what felt
like an hour, staring at the rock formations.
Satisfied,
Lisa transported herself back to Washington, back to the
small dressing room in the Kennedy Center.
She drew a deep breath, and looked at her watch.
It still read 10:00.
“END
LEVEL 5 TEMPORAL INCURSION.”
Outside the
front entrance of the Kennedy Center, a small group of
people had gathered near a half-dozen parked limousines,
waiting patiently for Lisa to emerge.
As she stepped out, the group buzzed excitedly and
moved in to surround her.
Lisa smiled and chatted with them individually,
posing for pictures and signing autographs.
Across the
parking lot, Jessica’s parents were talking to another
family who was in attendance.
At the sight of Lisa leaving the building, Jessica
said excitedly, “Look, Mommy!
There’s Lisa!”
The little girl then started running across the
parking lot.
Suddenly, a
small sedan careened wildly from Virginia Avenue and into
the parking lot, followed closely by two police cruisers,
sirens ablaze. The
noise of the sirens and screeching tires got the attention
of Lisa and the crowd, and they looked over at the scene.
Lisa then noticed Jessica running directly into the
path of the car. Jessica
froze, like a stunned deer staring into the headlights.
“Oh, MY GOD!!”
Lisa screamed as she pushed her way quickly through the
crowd and to the curb.
Just as suddenly, the world flashed to a halt, much
as it did in the concert hall.
Lisa, bewildered, spun around and spotted Bob walking
through the crowd, literally, toward her.
“Did you
do this?” demanded Lisa.
“Yeah,”
said Bob. “I
didn’t know that that
would happen, though,” he said, pointing to the careening
car frozen in time. “I
guess this will be your first test.”
“Test?”
“Remember
what I told you?” Bob began.
“We are not permitted to interfere with the natural
course of events on this planet.
That includes saving this little girl’s life.
Things must
happen as they normally would.”
Lisa was
stunned. “What
are you talking about?!” she yelled, pointing at
Jessica’s frozen form.
“This
little girl will die
unless I can save her!”
Bob shook
his head. “There
is a lot more at stake than one single life, Lieutenant,”
he said calmly. “Our
entire planet’s future is at stake.
We need you more than you realize.”
Lisa fought
back tears. “What
are you talking about?” she demanded.
Bob walked
over to a nearby park bench and sat down.
He motioned Lisa over, and she sat next to him.
“Only one in about 120,000 people can use the
device. It
derives its power from a certain neurochemical reaction that
occurs in your brain. And
mine. And in
only a few select other people.
I chose you for no other reason than that.
It has been difficult to locate other suitable users.
“You have
to make a choice here.
Take as much time as you need.
But I must warn you again that you’ll lose
everything I and the Altaireans have given you if you save
this girl’s life. I’m
sorry, but it’s not up to me.
It’s their rules.”
Lisa looked
up at Bob, tears running down her cheeks.
She thought of the Pyramids, the Grand Canyon.
Never lose
sight of who you are, her mother’s words echoed as if
in the distance. “I’ve
made my decision, Bob,” she said quietly, sniffling.
She walked back to the curb where she had stood when
the temporal incursion began.
“I’m sorry,” she called out to Bob.
“Why are
you doing this?” asked Bob, who had followed her, concern
rising in his voice.
Lisa turned
to face him. “Because
I know that you and the Guardians will do your best to
defend our planet from whatever’s on its way.
But I can’t live out the rest of my life knowing
that I could’ve saved this little girl.
I want her to grow up with the chance to fulfill her
dreams just as I have.
That, to me, is more important than saving the planet
from a bunch of aliens.
And my new abilities…”
Her voice broke and trailed off, and she took a deep
breath. “I’m
sorry.”
Bob sighed.
He paused, as if reading.
“I’ll try to get you back.
I promise.” He
walked quickly toward the other side of the parking lot and
hid behind a parked car.
She wiped
the tears from her face, turned back toward the scene and
restarted the temporal continuum.
Come on!
Got to stop that car!
In her vision field, the cursor spelled out
“ACTIVATE LEVEL SIX PROJECTILE BARRIER.”
Instantly, there was a brief flash of light and the
car seemed to swerve violently.
The intruder crashed into a parked car just a couple
of yards from where Jessica was standing.
The police cruisers screeched to a halt, and officers
scrambled out quickly, sidearms drawn, screaming commands at
the driver.
Lisa sighed
with relief. Suddenly,
she was overcome by a wave of dizziness as she felt the
device disengaging from her nervous system and brain.
She blacked out and collapsed to the ground in a
heap.
When Lisa
opened her eyes, she was laying face up on the pavement,
with her mother and five other people crouching around her.
“Lisa!” her mother called.
“Are you alright?”
Lisa,
feeling completely normal, sat up.
“Yeah, I think.
What happened?”
“You
fainted,” Martha said.
“You were unconscious for about 30 seconds.
We were starting to get worried.”
Lisa looked
around and saw Jessica standing nearby, hugging her mother.
About ten yards away, the police were handcuffing the
driver of the sedan, whose front section by this time was a
smoldering mass of twisted metal.
The driver, who was face down on the ground with
officers restraining him, looked unhurt.
Other officers were controlling the gathering crowd,
making sure they maintained their distance.
An ambulance had pulled into the parking lot, but
miraculously there were no injuries to tend.
“Is she alright?!” she said, rising quickly to
her feet and motioning toward Jessica.
“Yeah,”
a bystander called out.
“The car swerved at the last moment.
She was really
lucky.”
At that
moment, Lisa had a memory flash.
She thought she remembered something, but it was
fading like an old daydream.
She stood there for a moment with her head down,
trying to recall what exactly happened.
“You OK?” Martha asked.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?”
Lisa shook
her head. “No,
I’m fine. I
think I just blacked out for a moment.”
She looked around.
“It’s weird.
I actually feel fine, now.
Great, even.”
One of the
police officers walked in Lisa’s direction.
“Miss?” she asked.
“I’m Officer Leiter.
May we ask you a few questions about what you saw?”
Lisa looked
over at Martha, who nodded slightly.
“OK, sure,” she said and walked over to the
parked police cruisers, her mother trailing.
Across the
parking lot, Bob had watched the scene unfold.
In his vision field, he saw a message: “LISA KIRK
NO LONGER A VIABLE RECRUIT.
ABORT MISSION.”
He shook his head, disappointed.
Should’ve
asked for an autograph, he thought.
New words materialized: “POTENTIAL NEW RECRUIT
LOCATED AT 37.256 N, 119.223 W.
GOOD LUCK, COLONEL ANDERSON.”
He walked behind a parked van and vanished without a
trace.
03/28/2001
Copyright 2001 by Jack Schorr
DISCLAIMER: The characters in this
story are fictitious, but certain characters are based upon
real persons, living and/or deceased. The author has no
intention at this time of financial gain through the
distribution of this story, and any such endeavors by other
individuals are not
authorized and are hereby disclaimed by the author. This
disclaimer shall not
be revoked unless through a properly authenticated
writing signed by the author.
Lyrics of “La
pastorella” from Soirees
musicales by Gioacchino Rossini
