Chapter 2.1: You Arrive, and I’m on Fire
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After leaving the music building, Emil thought about the situation in which he had found himself.

In the original timeline, although he never played seriously, he did manage to take private lessons and learn several instruments. He eventually returned to his childhood favorite, the bass guitar.

For almost a decade before he died, he practiced the bass whenever he found time, and memorized basslines across several genres. Although he never played with other musicians in his previous life, he was confident in his ability to improvise on the fly.

The problem was that in this current timeline, his 18 year old body hadn't been playing for over a year. Even before he quit, he had only been playing bass for three years. His skill level was definitely somewhere between beginner and intermediate. He knew he had to fix this immediately, and to do so, he needed to buy a bass as soon as possible.

Later that afternoon, Emil hopped on a bus to downtown and made his way to Apricot Music Company. Although the salespeople were snobby, he remembered it as the closest store that had the widest selection of instruments. He also knew that if you carried yourself with enough confidence, you could talk down the salespeople from their inflated prices and get a deal on some decent equipment. 

Emil had the spirit and mentality of a forty something year old lawyer, which, combined with the leisure time of a first year college student with no classes for a week, was a dangerous combination in the sport of haggling. After several hours he exhausted the salespeople and managers, and eventually was able to work out a deal well below the retail price on a bass.

He had procured a beautiful slightly used standard fender jazz bass with a sunburst finish and a black pickguard. Emil wanted a meatier sound than the stock pickups, but he figured he could replace them sometime in the future. One of the conditions of the deal was that he would also purchase other items, such as a practice amp, a black hard case, some instrument cables, some guitar picks, and extra strings.

Many of the salespeople were so happy to see Emil leave, they helped him carry his stuff to a taxi waiting outside.

As a result of spending almost $1,500 in music equipment, Emil's savings account was severely depleted, and his aunt would catch wind of it very soon. He didn't look forward to explaining why he spent so much of his parents' life insurance inheritance on musical equipment, when he had made a big deal about quitting music back during high school.

Still, these thoughts were quickly crowded out by other worries, mainly getting his body's ability to catch-up as quickly as possible to his mental ability. He had only a week before classes began, so he decided to hole-up in his room, and practice every waking hour.

Maybe by the beginning of classes, he could have the confidence to seek out Roy and ask to jam some time, he mused. Emil snorted at such an unbelievable idea. As if someone of that caliber would ever play with an unknown like him, thought Emil.

In the week before classes many other first years in the dorm noisily tried to socialize with one another by playing games in the lounge, cooking together in the kitchen, and throwing impromptu drinking parties in their rooms. Emil shut it all out to practice.

Interestingly enough, the other person who shared the bathroom, the suitemate that he still had never met, was of the same mindset as Emil. The only time the suitemate ever acknowledged Emil's existence was a sticky note attached to the mirror with the words "thank you" every time Emil cleaned the bathroom or replaced the toilet paper or soap.

There was a rumor that the suitemate was a reclusive computer genius. As a result, his suitemate would be nicknamed the Digital Hermit. Emil would eventually earn the moniker, the Bass Hermit. They would thus be known on their floor by the somewhat oxymoronic name of the Twin Hermits. Emil wouldn't hear about all this until much later.

His main purpose during the time before classes started was to train his body to catch up to all the knowledge and skill he had accumulated from his previous life. He would end up playing bass for about twelve hours a day, only taking breaks for food, sleep, and when his hands and fingers were too feeble to move. Luckily his practice amp had a headphone jack, so he was able to do some light playing in the middle of the night whenever his mind was restless.

In the beginning, the tips of his fingers were frustratingly soft, without the callouses that would eventually buildup after hours of constantly holding down the thick bass strings. Stretching his left hand fingers across the wide frets took a toll on his hand and forearm muscles.

Furthermore, the muscle memory that he had also built up through consistent years of practice in his previous life had been erased. Emil determined he had to rebuild the unconscious techniques that he accumulated—how to roll his fingers across different scales, how to play with three fingers or slap the strings with his right hand, how to mute or dampen or play harmonics, and the choice of where to place the fingers to establish a fitting tone and articulation.

He knew he could get his twenty-year-old body to catch up with his forty-year-old skills, but he didn’t know how long it would take. And that’s why he was an ascetic for a week, to determine how wide the gap was. 

Emil also worked on better understanding his weird ability to see the shape of music. Although he was at first frequently unsettled whenever the lines would reach out of his body and connect to the bass and amp, in time the ability became more familiar. Eventually he figured out some useful things about his ability.

First, he didn’t see sound waves. Whenever he would pluck a few notes, tuning, or even practicing scales, he didn’t see any lines. Only when he was concentrating on playing melodies would he begin to see lines.

Moreover, when he listened to recorded music, either through speakers or in his headphones he couldn’t see lines. Emil thought that it had to be a live instrument that was played with intention and had a sense of musicality.

This was confirmed when he tried singing a melody versus just humming random notes. When he really put in effort in singing he was able to see some faint lines. When he just hummed, nothing.

The singing exercise was especially humbling, since the weakness of the lines indicated that there wasn’t that much musicality in Emil’s singing. He always thought he was a decent vocalist. But the lack of strong and defined lines proved that he should stick to playing bass.

Finally, during his practice his aunt kept calling, which he would continuously ignore. His aunt was a terrifyingly strong presence, and he didn't look forward to being berated for hours over the phone.

After a week of practicing, he was able to combine his newfound vision of musicality to better hone his exercises, to figure out which kinds of melodies and arpeggios were working and which weren't. This extra recognition of musicality accelerated his muscle memory, enabling him to play faster and more complex arpeggios and patterns, more consistent and flexible rhythms, and have better control of diverse tones.

His playing ability was still far from his ability in his previous life. But because of his younger body, his reflexes were faster and his stamina was exponentially more than his previous self. Emil was amazed. In merely a week, his skill had far exceeded his peak ability in high school. 

The week of practicing ended and soon classes began. He had never taken a formal course in music before, and although he had taken private lessons in his past life, it was mainly for playing instruments. He was truly giddy with the possibility of learning in a class with an actual music professor.

In his past life as a lawyer he was always diligent. Even if his heart was not completely in learning about law, he always felt a responsibility to the work itself. Eventually he was lauded at his law firm for putting in meticulous work in any project he was a part of—no matter how big or small.

Education was no different. Emil was genuinely curious about a lot of things, and would work hard on something if he believed it would lead to some sort of self-growth, even if he had no natural talent.

Emil had butterflies in his stomach as he entered the classroom for "Introduction to Music Theory."

He was so excited he had arrived twenty minutes early for the 8AM class. Understandably for an early morning class, he was the first and only person in the room. He chose a seat midway from the front and close to the window, so he could stay awake during lecture but also not draw too much attention from the professor.

As he cheerfully flipped through the course textbook Emil was surprised by a sudden sound to his right. A person wearing a black leather jacket, ripped up white denim jeans, and dark round sunglasses had hurriedly plunked down in the seat right next to Emil. 

Emil looked around as if to make sure he wasn't mistaken. Yes, all the other seats were free, yet this person who strongly smelled of coffee and cigarettes decided to sit in the very next seat.

Without saying a word to Emil, the person lazily stretched out their arms in front them, then rested their head on the desk, and quickly fell asleep. While their shaggy pink hair covered most of their face, Emil couldn't help but watch the mouth slowly go slack, opening wide, and letting out a low droning snore.

After some awkward time, Emil decided to turn his attention back to his textbook as others trickled in. Every once in a while he would steal glances at the slumbering person, unperturbed by the increasing number of students in the class, whispering, pointing, and giggling in their direction.

With about five minutes left before the beginning of class, two people entered the room. The chatter grew more quiet. Although many recognized the professor by his brown corduroy sport coat, Emil was even more surprised by who the professor had walked in with. It was Roy Sarmiento.

 

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