Helen pressed her leg lightly against Joe to get his
attention. However, her musical voice, just by itself,
always caught Joe's attention. "Joe, can I change the radio
station? It's not that I don't love classical music. I do.
However, I really do want to hear when my friend Melody
leaves the moon, and is on the way back to earth. She and the
other astronauts have beat Sam Raccetts 2066 record for how
long an astronaut has stayed on the moon." She felt energized
while sandwiched between her best friends Bob and Joe.

Joe divided his attention. While part of his mind
focused on driving them to their concert performance in his
ancient white camper truck, another part of his mind focused
on answering her question. "You sure can. I even give you
permission." He turned his head slightly so he could
alternately see the road and her reaction.

She laughed. "I'm sorry I told you about my fifth
grade English teacher and her 'may I' game." She reached
forward and swiftly punched the code sequence needed for her
favorite news station on the truck radio touch pad control
panel.

". . .waiting for the signal to liftoff. It's t minus 2
minutes and counting. Brad, while we're waiting, tell our
listeners why we gave the lunar module the name 'Grayjay'."

After a short period of static, Brad's monotonic radio
voice began. "We gave it the name Grayjay because of the
Canadian grayjay. The grayjay, a cold weather bird, adapted
itself to the cold weather in Canada and along the Rocky
Mountains in the northwestern United States. One of our
astronauts, as a child, lived in Canada, and we decided to
name the lunar module after a Canadian bird. The fact that
the grayjay also nests along the Rocky Mountains and this
lunar expedition will explore mountains on the far side of
the moon strikes me as an interesting coincidence."

"Sorry to interrupt, Brad. It's 15 seconds to liftoff.
Countdown will begin right away."

"10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1..."
". . . Grayjay failed to lift off. Grayjay failed to lift
off." The announcer's voice held the clear tones of tight
emotional control. "We know at this time only that the main
engines ignited and then immediately shut down. This station
will make special alerts as we receive them."

"What! Something went wrong. Oh, I hope they're okay."

Bob shrugged his shoulders. "Well. . . you can't do
anything about it. You should relax. Don't worry about it."

Joe laughed. "Bob, we all cope with anxiety differently.
Helen worries. Not everyone can be as rational as you."

Bob replied, "I don't want her to worry. I'm trying to
explain why she shouldn't worry." He shifted into his
objective mode voice. "Look. Either your friend is okay, or
she is not okay. If she is okay, then we don't need to worry.
If she isn't okay then we can't do anything about it, so why
worry about it? We should worry only if it will help us solve
the problem we are worried about. So, why don't you distract
yourself for now? Besides, I believe everyone can and should
be completely rational."

Joe shook his head. "My friend, you don't understand
emotions yet. Emotions motivate our responses to perceived
situations. After we become aware of our response we can
choose whether or not we should follow through with it."

Bob meditated silently for a moment before speaking.
"People can and should learn rational emotions. Your
emo. . ."

She interrupted. "Joe, you two will never settle
that discussion. So, don't argue with him now. Instead, tell
me what you think happened on the moon."

"Well I can't. We only know that liftoff failed.
That implies something went wrong with either the liftoff
engines, or with the fuel. Perhaps Bob does have a point this
time. Let's think about other things. Think about our walk on
the beach tomorrow. Think about how well Bob harmonizes his
guitar playing with your singing."

She glared at him for just a second, but then laughed.
"We can at least check the news after our concert
performance. I want to hear what happened with Melody and the
other astronauts. I need to know that Melody is safe."

She paused, then continued. "I know, Bob, you'll just
say it's so I can decide what I should feel. Well . . . I
can't help it. I have to know!"

Bob grinned. "You know me very well. But that's not
what I intended to say. I'm curious about Melody. Tell me how
you know her."

She looked affectionately toward Bob. "Thanks for
asking. During my high school years, I formed an anti-
nicotine patch organization. Someone in our small group found
out that Melody, already a famous astronaut, shared our
concern. We all believe that people should know the
difference between the real happiness that comes from
creative work and the illusion of happiness from maintaining
a drug addiction."

"We were also concerned about the growing power of United
Tobacco Company. I contacted her and she actually came to our
high school to speak to us. She and some guy named Grant
encouraged us by keeping in touch with us by video phone the
rest of the year. They taught us some history about tobacco
use. Cigarette smoking rates had fallen to about two percent
of the population due to the Allen Carr clinics that appeared
in cities all around the world. However, they had no effect
on the number of people using nicotine patches. All these
clinics closed after their near total success in curing the
world of smoking."

"Within a generation, it became popular for people who
never smoked to use the nicotine patches. This happened
because people addicted to nicotine, because of the patches,
persuaded non-addicts to try them. The problem became
significantly worse after the tobacco companies merged into
United Tobacco Company."

"Did they tell you how to re-open clinics like the Allen
Carr clinics?"

"No, they knew students would not have the time to run
such a clinic. I'm sure they hoped that later we might work
with them to help. But I'm still a student. Perhaps I'll
contact them later, if there is a later."

"Oh, I do hope Melody can safely return to Earth!"

Joe, having listened closely to their conversation,
glanced at Bob as if to ask what he should say to help.
Bob's answer was only a shrug of his shoulders. Joe was on
his own for this. "If I were you, the first thing I would
have said to Melody is that I liked her name."

Helen looked puzzled. "Why?"

Joe grinned. "Aren't you telling me all the time how
much you like melodies?"

Both his friends laughed at this.

"Thanks guys. Now I feel better. We must be close to
the concert hall. Oh, there it is!" She pointed straight
ahead through the window. "Oh, I hope we do at least as well
tonight as we did last time."

Joe made a sharp turn into the parking lot."Plan on it.
You'll keep getting better and better until you perform
perfectly almost every time."

Bob spoke up then. "But, if you don't do better tonight,
please don't let it bother you."

"Thanks, guys."

Minutes later, she leaned against the heavy door of the
large concert hall, slowly pushing it open. Once inside,
she looked around the room. Pulling a small black box from
her pocket, she pointed it at the far walls. Bob, following
her in, very carefully placed their beloved instruments on
the floor next to her. "How does it look?"

"It looks good, Bob. My sounder box tells me that we'll
have great acoustics."

Bob nodded and pointed to his right. "There's their
stage. It's perfect. We walk up only two steps and we are on
stage across the room from the doorway. Where's Joe?"

"Right here. It's not easy to keep up when I'm lugging
this heavy archaic sound equipment, and you guys only have to
carry one double oh eighteen sized guitar, my fiddle, and the
basket containing the donation jar and flyers."

Bob turned to Joe. "After we get rich, you could buy
some ultra-light quality modern equipment. That is, unless
you are having fun showing off this hundred-year-old stuff
that you inherited from your ancestors."

"Well, I'm only keeping it now for sentimental reasons.
Besides, it's better quality than anything we can afford."

She tapped Joe on his arm to get his attention.
"Well, Joe, you are the tallest and strongest of us. I
thought it made sense for you to carry the heavy stuff." Her
admiration clearly showed in her smile.

Joe looked directly into her blue-gray eyes. "Is zat so?
Well, I may be strong, and exactly 188 centimeters tall,
which is at least a centimeter taller than both of you. But
I'm no Superman. Which reminds me; I have in my truck the
Superman comic collection you loaned me. Ask me after the
concert about it."

Bob laughed. "Joe, you too? I knew that she gushed
over Superman, but I didn't know you cared. Did you try to
fly when you were a kid too?"

"Huh! Well. . . Before kindergarten, I jumped over a
log trying to levitate. Because of that, I got a grass reed
stuck in my throat about a centimeter from my windpipe."

"Bob, don't you ever dream of flying?"

"Sure. One time I dreamed I built my own airplane and
flew it all over town, and people looked up and said, 'Look
up in the sky. It's a plane!' "Bob grinned in spite of his
intention to look serious.

She smiled in return. "I never said I thought I really
could fly. It's just that when I'm asleep I forget it's
impossible."

Bob shook his head. "I see." He briefly clapped his
hands twice. "Well, enough of this. We need to set up."

Helen saw a small table near the stage, and dragged it
to the entrance. Using both hands, she picked up the donation
jar from her basket and placed it on the table. Next she
arranged the flyers that advertised their availability for
future gigs. She paused a moment to pick up one of their
flyers to admire it. Bob did a really good job when he
designed this one. Their name, "Vocal Strings", almost seemed
to jump out. She liked the way he used musical notes to make
up the letters. Below their band name were pictures of the
three of them. Joe, being the blond handsome guy, stood
slightly behind and between them. She ran her fingers over
the three figures in the picture, tracing out Joe's wavy
blond hair, Bob's curly black hair, and her own long straight
light brown hair. Sighing, she put the flyer down. She needed
to set up the chairs.

"I see you've fixed your broken strings."

"What?" She turned around to see a young man pointing
at the flyer. "Oh, you mean our name change. Yes, we are no
longer the "Broken Strings." Every few months we change our
band name. We'll probably change it again soon."

She walked across the room to get the concert hall's
chairs to set in front of the stage. The young man followed
her, and together they set the chairs in neat staggered rows
in front of the stage. When they had finished, she thanked
the young man. "Thank you very much. Could you do me another
favor?"

He responded by looking questioningly at her.

"Could you point out the donation jar to new people
coming in?"

The young man smiled. "Of course. I'll be glad to do it."

Next, she helped Bob and Joe set up the sound system.
While Bob played his guitar, She walked through the rows of
chairs, signaling to Joe how to adjust the sound.

During this testing period more people began entering
the hall. Some sat down immediately while others congregated
in small groups in the back of the hall. She looked to Joe to
see if he needed any additional sound checks. Joe signaled
the all clear. But unexpectedly, instead of sitting down to
play, he followed his all clear signal by an exaggerated
pointing at the entrance to the Hall.

She turned her head to look. Two tall men, dressed in
very formal suits, had just entered the hall. One of the two
wore an unusually bright red vest, while the other
distinguished himself by his top hat and fancy sash belt tied
to his side.

She quelled the impulse to tell them that they did
not need to have such formal dress for this concert. It would
probably only embarrass them. As she drew nearer Red Vest
smiled and waved to her. She reached them just as Top Hat,
addressing his friendly companion, complained. "Cato, they
don't even have an entrance fee! It's just a donation. What
kind of concert is this?"

She stood speechless for a moment, wondering what
she could say to such an insult.

Cato's smooth mellow voice showed his agreement with
her feelings. "Will, I think having a donation jar is an
excellent idea." He extended his hand to her. "I'm Senator
Cato Irving. My irritating companion is Senator Will Bellum.
I'm sure we'll both enjoy your performance."

Her eyes opened wide. She had almost insulted an
U.S. Senator! Even she had heard of the Senator Cato Irving
of the ethics committee. Why were they here? Surely they were
not here just to critique her performance? As she shook
Cato's hand, she noticed the time on his expensive looking
watch. Smiling at Cato, she apologized. "Thanks. I don't mean
to be short, but now I have to run. It's time for us to
start." As she turned away, she had a second thought. She
turned to face Cato. "I'll introduce you after the concert."

As she jumped up onto the low stage, Joe's watch
chimed to signal beginning time. He took the microphone.
"As senior member of our group, I get to make the
introductions. I'm Joe Athens. Sometimes we call the guitar
player Bob, sometimes we call him Bam, and sometimes we refer
to him as 'just the best guitar player on the planet'." Joe
pointed to Helen. "Helen, our lovely singer, the most
beautiful lady in the world, also answers to the name 'Hat'
Can you guess why?"

Joe paused, then smiled at the audience. "I will
give you this hint. Her last name begins with the letter T."

Joe took a firmer hold of the microphone. "Today is
Saturday, July first, 2090. Why am I reminding you of this?
It's so that when I tell you that today is both Bob's and
Helen's birthday,you will remember it. Of course, I'm not
permitted to tell you what year she came into the world."

She winked at Bob. They had literally run into each
other in the doorway of the music appreciation computer lab.
She fondly remembered being helped up by Joe as she and Bob
untangled themselves in the doorway. Calling them "The Three
Musketeers" expressed only weakly the extent to which their
friendship had since developed.

Helen strode forward and took the microphone from
Joe. "Before I begin my songs, I want to explain why we
have a donation jar instead of preset prices." She waved her
left hand toward Joe and Bob. "We all decided that we wanted
to give everyone, regardless of their money situation,
oportunity to hear our music. At the same time, we felt that
our listeners were the best judge of how valuable our music
was to them. That's why we left a donation jar at the
entrance, and left it there during the performance in case
any of you preferred to pay your donation after the
performance rather than before."

"My first song dates back to the time when almost a third
of our population actually smoked cigarettes."


Oh where do you wish to live?
Wish you to live in fresh air?
What are you willing to give,
what are you willing to dare,
For abundant life to live?

Greatly love Sally did Fred.
"I would like to be your friend."
Sally thus considered Fred.
"We will be able to blend,
if your cigs I need not dread."

One day Fred met with his Aunt.
"I would like to with you be."
How Fred was viewed by his Aunt:
"Your cigs I must never see.
On your visit, smoke you can't."

Different type work wished Fred.
"I'd like to work in Sales."
His boss nixed the plan of Fred.
"Any salesman who smokes, fails.
For smokers do our clients dread."

Came the day Fred's health did fail.
"Now what do I need to do?"
The doctor could not avail.
"There is nothing you can do.
Death is standing at your door."

Helen pulled the microphone slightly closer. "This next
song is a bit more serious."

Blessed are they who seek wisdom rather than
power for they shall not fear nor cause fear.
Blessed are they who seek good both for themselves
and for their neighbors, for they shall have peace.

Blessed are they who seek cooperation in solving problems,
for they shall know the joys of working together.

Blessed are the trustworthy, for they shall inspire trust.

Blessed are they who ask questions rather than only
give answers, for they shall learn and be wise.

Blessed are they who respect the needs of
others, for they shall have no enemies.

Blessed are they who are open to alternative
solutions, for their burden shall be light.

Blessed are they who understand when apparent disagreements
are really agreements disguised by different use
of language, for their quarrels shall be few.

Blessed are they who prefer several good answers over
the one perfect answer, for they shall be satisfied.

Blessed are they who seek what is right for all rather than
only what is right for themselves, for they will have many
friends.

Blessed are they who do not insist on their own way, but seek
first truth and wisdom, for they will find many good ways.

Blessed are the kind and gentle, for they shall reap what
they sow.

Blessed are they who love for they shall love life.

Blessed are they who are free from expectations
for they shall be free indeed.

Blessed are they who accept others unconditionally,
for they shall be called angels.

Twice blessed are they who enjoy life,
for they know what is good.

Her remaining songs were positive affirmations of her
conviction that through your work, and through the friends
you love, true happiness will come.

After the concert, the trio took their bow with grace,
accepting the audience's enthusiastic applause. She felt warm
with pride in her singing today. She glanced over at Bob, and
caught his appreciative nod; he'd felt it too.

She reached for the microphone stand with one hand.
"Now I'd like to intro. . . Yow!" She crumpled to the stage
floor as a monstrous blue spark of light leaped from the
direction of the microphone stand to her fingers.

When she opened her eyes many faces crowded her view.
She lay on some soft mat and darkness still obscured her
vision. A commanding mellow voice filled her awareness.
"She's awake! Give her room!"

She felt her head with her hands. "What happened?"

"Some kind of electrical fault knocked you out." Bob,
looking worried and concerned, took her hand. "You scared us
a lot by passing out like that. How do you feel?"

She looked around. She found herself backstage behind
a heavy curtain which blocked most of the light. No wonder
she couldn't see very clearly! She began to feel a bit
better. "I'll be fine in a minute. May I have a glass of
water?"

Joe addressed the crowd around him. "Thanks for your
concern, folks. But now we need to pack up our gear and clear
the hall."

Except for the young man who had helped her place
the chairs, the crowd dispersed. He stood, head slightly
bowed, looking at them as if to ask permission to speak. When
Joe nodded his head slightly, he spoke. "That electric spark
didn't come from the microphone. I saw it come through the
window. It flew in a straight line past the microphone stand
right into her hand."

When he saw that their only responses were looks of
astonishment, he turned, walked slowly away, pulled apart the
heavy curtain, and left the hall.

Meanwhile, Senator Bellum and his companion had walked
through the exit door on the opposite side of the hall.
Senator Bellum spoke quietly to his companion. "She promised
to introduce us. She didn't keep her promise."

His companion smiled. "You know, Will, you can be
such a jerk."

Will heard the smile in his friend's voice. "Yes. We
make a good investigative team for the ethics committee. I
jerk the people around, and you look for guilty responses.
We've caught more wrongdoers than anyone else has."

"True, but tonight's singer is not under investigation.
We came only to enjoy her singing."

"You are right. However, we do need to maintain our
reputation."

Helen heard their remarks as a silent voice in her
head. She figured the voices must be only her imagination.
"Those guy dressed in formal dress were U.S. senators. Why do
you suppose they came to our concert?"

Joe grinned. "Because I invited them."