After a brief pain in my body I had a fever for a day. And now I wake up with a sore throat. Tired but optimistic I do the umpteenth self-test. In anticipation of the line that will declare me sane, I brush aside my last doubts. After all, I’m not a singer, I don’t need my voice on the viola. The pinkish-red rash convinces me and I make my way to the studio.
Still dazed and already less sharp, I slide behind my desk. Silent Earth, a piece by the Swedish composer Karin Rehnqvist, seems like an appropriate start to this day. Patiently I count the rest measures, until I finally let the string vibrate on a flageolet. But the harmonic overtones not only evoke Rehnqvist’s disturbing view of the Earthlings’ near future, but also a tickle in my throat. As soon as I have my breath under control after a coughing fit, my bow suddenly seems to have trouble with gravity.
Was it a wise decision to come to work?
The harp-glissandos wave more questions at me, the cymbals also play on my conscience and reverberate in my head. I see with terror the damp spots on the black fingerboard like the chorus Save yourself from us sings. The PCR test I skipped might have been the answer.
Afterwards I stay in my chair, I take plenty of time to pull the mask over my face. And by chance I get into a pleasant conversation with the conductor, which completely distracts me from my worries. After that, I gradually get better. Until two days later the conductor doesn’t show up.
Anxious waves storm my gut when I hear that he developed a sore throat and his emergency PCR test was positive. The production supervisor has dark circles under the eyes. She announces that, miraculously, not one but two conductors will be taking over the program. Relieved about the end of the culture lockdown, they want to do everything to continue the first concert with the public.
Everyone cooperates, the new conductors are sweating their best to bring the masterpieces to a fulminant performance within a day. Only I’m brooding because this is all my fault, I’m afraid. Or not?
Ewa Maria Wagner is a violist and writer.
A version of this article also appeared in NRC on the morning of February 8, 2022