Tonic and Dominant

<Largo>

Lala was crying. I asked her what was wrong, but she wouldn't tell me. Still, I could see that it was something really important—something worth crying over. She came out of the Liberal Room, so I figured it had to do with running in the election.

But I was glad she cried in my arms. It made me feel proud, like I truly am an important friend to her. I wanted to say something comforting, but with my limited vocabulary, I just couldn't find the words. All I could do was gently pat her head.

Is there anything I can do for her? I want to support Lala. But I'm dealing with a major problem myself—if Elise were here, would she laugh at me for even thinking about taking on Lala's troubles as well?

Right. Elise isn't here. Some invisible organization is quietly closing in on us with its hidden schemes. The situation grows worse day by day.

All I can do now is practice the “Blues of Restoration” on my own. I wonder if a song like that can really help anyone. My thoughts spiral around Lala, Sharp, Elise, and so many other people.

“Forte.”

“Y-Yes!”

“Were you not listening?”

Oh, right. I was in class. I’m still a student, after all, and I hadn't even noticed the teacher calling on me because my mind was elsewhere.

“I'll say it again. In the key of C major, the chord made of C, E, and G is called the tonic. Now, the chord made of G, B, and D, the fifth of the scale—what do we call that?”

“The dominant.”

It’s a basic music theory concept I'd learned many times in middle school. Even if I wasn't paying attention, I could answer that much.

“In basic music, the typical structure goes from the tonic, passes through the subdominant as a bridge, then moves to the dominant, and finally returns to the tonic. Can you explain why that is?”

“The tonic is a chord that makes people feel secure. From there, you insert the subdominant, which stirs slightly unstable emotions, then you move on to the dominant, which makes people feel even more unstable, and finally return to the tonic. By doing so, you can sway the listener’s emotions between stability and instability. It’s the most fundamental structure of music.”

“Good. Correct. Now make sure you pay attention in class.”

Story structures—introduction, development, turn, and conclusion—follow a similar pattern. You start by putting the audience at ease (introduction), move through the transitional phase (development), then introduce instability (turn), and finally bring them back to comfort (conclusion). This applies not just to music but to any creative work intended to move people’s hearts.

They say there’s a fine line between horror and comedy, which just means they share the same fundamental back-and-forth of stability and instability.

Come to think of it, I’ve heard that social networking sites are even more popular on the “other Earth” than they are here. Apparently, if you’re always posting out of anger, your entire feed fills with messages that provoke anger. When that happens, it’s like being stuck forever in a musical “dominant” state—your brain ends up exhausted, as if it’s being made to listen to music without any sense of rhythm. Human beings only feel pleasure through the interplay of tension and release.

Wait a minute. That reminds me of something Lala said. She mentioned that if you rack up enough “D” points, you can earn what she calls “karma points.” If that D stands for “dominant”… then the more reckless, unstable acts you commit, the more the dark organization expands—at least according to that kind of algorithm. It’s not impossible. Maybe it’s not the correct explanation, but I feel like I’m not off track.

“Hey! It’s break time, you know. Are you listening?”

Lala waves her hand in front of my face, and I come back to myself. You’d never guess she’d been crying an hour ago—she’s completely back to normal now. Well, an hour is plenty of time to recover.

I decide to ask Lala about the question that’s been on my mind.