By Liz

Black and white. Left and right. Sharp, flat, major, minor – I giggle. They have always been my friends, these little black and white rectangles. No one else cares but them. The people don’t care. I grit my teeth. The people don’t care.

Press one: middle C. The leader of all the other notes. That’s what I though when I was little. Right in the center. Taking point. I press it again. Nice, clear sound. Very nice. Nothing’s been this clear lately.

I put both my hands over the keys, play a C chord. Now middle C isn’t just a note, not just the leader, it’s a force, a little army perfectly arranged into one beautiful, harmonious chord. Again. Ah, clear sound….

My fingers move, and I start playing. The song is in A minor, Mozart’s Rondo Alla Turca. It was his favorite piece….

Father….

The beginning is fast, skipping in little circles, staccato, legato, staccato, legato – then back to C major, jumping up and skipping down, and round in the little circles again. Then slower, eighth notes, still in C major, but my hands are speeding up, almost tripping over themselves. My fingers dance along the keys. Now the hardest part, solid sixteenth notes, little ascending and descending sets, round and round and round, making their way slowly up and down and up and down…. It’s exhilirating. The world melts away, and there is nothing but me and those little black and white keys. Near the end of the piece the page is filled with grace notes, little flitting additions that roll neatly into the melody. Baaah, ba baaah, ba baaah, ba bah bah bah bah bum, bum, DAH. Silence. The end.

The world is all about black and white. It’s either major or minor, staccato or legato, sharp or flat, good or bad, in or out… or, or, or. He was either helping the colony by handing it over to OZ, or hurting it by trying to keep the natural resource satellites operating peacefully as they always had. And he had actually bought into that "or" business. I either stay and live like a rat the rest of my life, or I die by the hand of the very people I have served all my life….

Maybe that black and white thing does have some truth to it. Either the colonies are helping the Gundams by opposing OZ and not letting themselves be blinded to the truth by those lying, thieving, backstabbing, murdering sons of – Calm, calm down, remember the clear note, middle C, the leader. Okay. Either the colonies are with the Gundams, or they’re against them. For, or against. Disarming themselves for peace and justice, or gathering weapons and buying into that "new OZ" crap.

Yeah. They’re against us. So I’m either protecting them, or I’m fighting them. I look down at the keys. The others must see the truth. So I must lead them. Taking point. Middle C. I laugh. I am middle C, the clear note, the one who sees the truth. Organizes the others into chords, into armies that will purge the colonies of their hypocrisy.

Yes. They can’t have it both ways: peace and weapons. OZ and justice. It’s all about the "ors". I must show them.

It’s black or white.

~~~~~

Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing, and everything related to it. Oh, yeah, I also own the G-boys. They’re my slaves, and I make them do everything I tell them to, including– well, I don’t think you want to know that. Okay, duh, I don’t own anything related to Gundam Wing. I don’t own the G-boys, either. But if I did…. *drool*