Tag: anthony philip glass

I was sweeping up the corners of the storage room, when this caught my eye. Obviously a business card at one time, but fire and water damaged. I can just make out the name Anthony Philip Glass and the words “Adventurer, Entrepeneur” but I can’t see any contact details or other information.

Given that it would be unlikely that a child would have need of business cards, is it safe to assume that this is from a later period in AP Glass’ life? If so it would appear it wasn’t just his childhood that was unusual. I wonder what kind of services he was offering to potential clients with this card?

I’ve attached a photo, apologies for the poor quality.

card

Sifting through the loose leaves of the water-damaged journal, it’s hard to put them into a great deal of context. However, I discovered this snippet which may give some insight into the video and audio I’ve come across over the past few weeks.

January 3rd

Our initial test-run of the apparatus had a most alarming malfunction tonight. Indeed, father’s hands were severely scorched but as always he refuses to call for the doctor, and mother is most upset. We had begun a test transmission but something wasn’t right – the meters were most erratic and certain flues were not up to the requisite pressure, despite many thorough tests. Father insisted we inserted the first punch card and so I obeyed as always, fearing his ire.

There was a huge groaning noise from the very belly of the machine, the like of which I’d never heard before. I saw a crack appear in the second main bellow and some of the mountings began shaking violently. I moved to pull the lever back, to return the machine to a docile state, but father told me sternly to stand back and do nothing.

Suddenly, the first cathode-ray bulb started to show images and landscapes that were totally alien to us, cogs and machines, vertical and horizontal stripes as though laid out by a draughtsman, but terribly distorted. Worst of all, sound was coming from the horn that we had not entered into the machine. It was deafeningly loud, like waves crashing rhythmically on some infernal beach, or a ship of the dead rowing to the beat of a hellish drum. I was terrified, but as soon as it had started, the second bellows finally split and pressure was wholly lost. The machine wheezed to a halt, the cathode-ray dimmed and the horns once again fell silent.

Father had few words to say after the event. He postulated it was some kind of feedback loop – something coming back down the line that shouldn’t have. He had no notion of the destination of the test message due to the inaccurate pressures, and hence we knew not from whence the feedback came. I did not sleep tonight.

Page ends.

Further developments – I’ve discovered the remains of a journal, sadly fire-damaged, in amongst the inherited detritus. From what I can make out, it’s the journal of our protagonist from “Chapter One” (published earlier). This leads me to believe either Chapter One was a self-penned work of fantasy, or a dramatised account of Philip Anthony Glass’ actual deeds by another hand.

June 19th – Visiting the Duchess

Father was angry today. I heard him shouting at mother through the pantry door. I should have been undertaking my studies but since New Year I’ve felt strangely lacking in motivation. I suppose it’s the uncertainty that is playing on my mind. At first – after the initial transmission – father was overjoyed and we enjoyed a rare closeness, but sadly I think Colonel Van Riper’s frequent visits are playing on his mind. Father’s mood darkens after every visit from the military man, and he has taken to locking his study door which is [illegible] could have seen it coming.

Overall my studies continue apace and although the drudge of schoolwork bores me so, it is in a way a relief to be back to it’s mundane nature. Chores, study and sleep are my life at the moment, the latter of which is a treat indeed. Throughout the build my back was sore, my head afuzz, and the sandman was a stranger to me. My diet also has improved since father stopped insisting I drink his bitter tea blend, the origins of which remain a mystery to me.

This evening I will be attending a [illegible] hosted by the Duchess of York. It promises to be a most exciting evening with many interesting folk in attendance. Mother has already laid out my clothes and I will look very smart. My [illegible] a good impression as he says it will be important for me to know these things in the future.

I wish father was a more popular man, for brilliant though he is, his abrasive nature has cost him dear I feel. I hope he never reads these words as I do love him so, as much as a boy can love his father, despite the unusual and backbreaking work he would have me do.

I must stop writing as mother is calling me, and our trip [illegible]