A Diva’s Debut

“Ladies and gentlemen! GeneCo is proud to present the very first Genetic Opera!”
The crowd rose to its feet, applauding thunderously, wildly, though for what they knew not themselves. The spotlight glared on the tuxedo-clad bandleader as he raised his baton. The orchestra struck up and launched into a whimsical waltz, welcoming the crowd.
“Ladies and good gentlemen, welcome to our show!
The greatest performers, all here for you! The company you all know!
We gave you new hearts, among other things
Now you must let your hearts soar! Let them sing!
Bravi! Bravi! Bravissimo!
GeneCo brings the world to you!
So grateful are we for all that you do!
Bravi! Bravo! Bravisimmé!
The company for tomorrow and today!”

  Rotti Largo strode across the stage, and the applause grew fiercer still. The CEO’s fame was one reason for the wild anticipation, but it was likely the free admission that packed them in, as well as the spectacle promised by the television screens dominating Sanitarium Square.
His voice boomed over the headset microphone he wore, greeting the crowd.
“Welcome, esteemed GeneCo clientele! You are among the few privileged to witness a work in progress, as part of our company’s efforts to revive the traditions of opera and bring culture to the modern world! To begin our show, we have a special presentation: a performance by my beautiful fiancée. Ladies and gentlemen, Marni Vega!”
The applause and cheers thundered again, as the bride-to-be of the CEO took the stage. Sheathed in a soft green printed gown, chestnut hair swept up, she opened her mouth wide as the DJ lent his synthesized beat.
“Chase the morning. Yield for nothing.”
The high notes, after weeks of rehearsal, proved little challenge to her. Mag, watching from the orchestra pit, beamed proudly. Her friend’s sheer happiness was infectious.
How she wished she could keep this moment forever! Her eyes snapped shut, and there came a soft whirring noise. She opened her eyes in surprise, but dismissed it. She still didn’t know all the functions of her corneas, and they were merely prototypes as it was.
And so the show continued for a half-hour or so, until she retreated into the wings to ready herself for her cue. The announcement came at last from the speakers.
“GeneCo proudly presents the grand finale of the Genetic Opera. A rising star, discovered by our very own Rotti Largo! A real-life miracle, courtesy of breakthrough technology, soon to be made available to all! Ladies and gentlemen, introducing Blind Mag!”
Magdalene Defoe walked gracefully out on the stage, clothed in a scarlet satin ensemble made especially for her. “Today is the first day of the rest of your life,” the nurses- Genterns- had chorused when they slipped her into it. Whether or not that was true was impossible to say, but her fear was quickly ebbing away and turning to excitement.
She took in the shrieks of the cheering crowd, the feel of the hot lights on her face;
her vision was so blurred that she resorted to the senses used in her past blindness.
The orchestra far below began the first strains of her song. The synthesizers built with them, and Mag immersed herself in the mounting music, crowing out the first high note.

“Aaaa-aaaa-aaah
Aaaa-aaaaaaahh…
Is it you I keep thinking of?
Should I feel like I do?
I’ve come to know that I miss your love
While I’m not missing you
We run
Til its gone
Et les fleurs du mal
Won’t let you be
You hold the key to an open door
Will I ever be free?
Comme les fleurs du mal
Un amour fatal
Comme les fleurs du mal
Un amour fatal.”

The crowd was on its feet, stomping, cheering. She had successfully become GeneCo’s voice and the public’s darling with one song. It was a true miracle.
Marni came to see her after the show. “That was terrific, Maggie!” she gushed.
A shy young man with tousled, sandy hair was beside her.
“You weren’t too bad yourself, you know,” he said, grinning at Marni.
He extended his hand to Mag. “Dr. Nathan Wallace. I’m an admirer of your friend.” Mag shook it uneasily. “Dr.?” she repeated.
“That’s right. I was there the day that they put your new eyes in.”
Of course he was employed by GeneCo, Mag thought- practically nobody wasn’t somehow. Although he tried to mask the gooey expression that crossed his face when he looked at Marni, it was plain to see that he was besotted. Mag felt a little sorry for the apparent hopelessness of his situation, for he struck her as thoughtful and gentle, so much more like Marni than the magnanimous Mr. Largo had turned out to be.
  But no sooner had she begun to pause for thought than she was swept away without another word, to take the stage with Rotti for the curtain call. In her teased hair and satin gown, she looked every inch the diva, on top of the world. Her boss’s vice grip on her hand when they took their bow, though, put her back in her place. “Blind Mag, ladies and gentlemen!” the bandleader announced.

There was that name again- the stage name that would mark her from now on, as an asset, a poster girl. But there was the audience, calling it, chanting it in pure adoration, and she basked in its strange glow.
Blind Mag would have the perfect life- glamour, fame, with a voice everyone would know and love. She would be grateful for the gifts of sight and of riches bestowed upon her by the executives that had opened up doors for her and her voice.
Blind Mag would cherish every minute of her new life. Magdalene Defoe, however, would weep for every single day of freedom now lost to her.