The theater was quiet.
Adagio had never been in Towers Theater before. With its lush emerald stage curtains and matching seats beneath a high dome-ceiling, Spera theater's was vintage in its charm. "It's also called the Thousand-Seat Theater," Sage whispered as they walked in with the rest of the school. "It has exactly a thousand seats," she added.
"Thank you," whispered Adagio back. "I wouldn't have gotten that on my own."
Sage gave a thumbs-up.
Now they sat on the ground level, and Towers Theater was as quiet as if being conducted by a suspended baton. The wide stage was lit but empty, and a speaker's podium sat in the spotlight.
A woman wearing a white pantsuit walked onto stage.
She carried a white binder under one arm and the rapture of the audience in the other. As if aware she took her time setting up the binder and microphone, and characteristically of Spera, the microphone did not give feedback but the art deans did.
The five art deans sat in the middle of the front row, and from a few rows back Adagio saw one dean gesture to her. The woman on stage paused, shook her head almost imperceptibly and then stepped back into the spotlight.
"Welcome, Spera School of the Arts!"
A hearty cheer rose around the audience. It swept the floor seats and up the mezzanine and over the balcony, and if students were sitting in them the cheer would no doubt have glided along the private, close-curtained boxes along the sides of the theater.
In all her life Adagio had never truly felt like she belonged, but here at Spera -- in this crowd she belonged.
"As students of the fine arts: communications, theater, dance, visual arts, and music" -- at each named department hoots and shouts and stomps and other miscellaneous spirited chaos flared -- "there is no privilege quite like the privilege it is your turn to hold.
Here at Spera we believe in two truths:
1. Do not bore others -- that is called entertaining.
2. Do not bore yourself entertaining others -- that is called having dignity."
There was a silence as the woman looked into the darkness.
"For thirty years, the Spera School has been possible due to our wonderful teachers, our dedicated deans, our talented artists-in-residence. Our School has been supported by funding from the school district -- and from our loyal Patron, Mr. Dale Spera."
There was a polite round of applause followed by politer round of silence.
"The Spera School is incredibly grateful for Mr. Spera's contributions over the years. Our Patron's generosity, with the help from the district, has enabled our five arts departments to share Spera's annual funding through a quarterly game called Trip to Port Alms."
Trip to Port Alms -- the Trip -- the woman explained, was named after Trip to Jerusalem, which was in turn later named musical chairs. Here were the rules:
Each seat in Towers Theater had the ability to light up an emerald green. Yes it's in the woodwork, the woman explained, curious indeed -- and during a short live performance the light will jump from seat to seat.
When the music stops, the light will too.
The student in the seat will stand, and find out with the rest of the school which department their seat was assigned to.
At this point, as a demonstration, the woman lifted a hand and a tinny melody started up from the sound booth at the same time an emerald glow began to jump from seat to seat. Towers Theater turned this way and that, trailing it with watchful eyes. The light traveled up the balcony, through the mezzanine, across the floor sections.
