Jason, first chair violin, spent the day being harangued by Bernie the composer and conductor. Something of a crazed perfectionist, with the Director a close second when it came to extreme states of stubborn insanity and brilliance, Bernie kept at it until Jason produced the exact screaming violin effect. With the sun setting, fingertips blistering, his neck frozen in what felt like a permanent tilt to the right, Jason should have gone home, poured himself a stiff one and called it a night. Instead, feeling polluted (yup that was the right word) he headed to a basement rehearsal space at the local Y to play Respighi with some fellow musicians equally abused by the system. Sir Neville Mariner had promised to show up and give a listen. Surely, music more than booze would lift him up.