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"This ending would have brought the house down with indignation 200 years ago," said Anton and applauded.
"It probably would still would today," I said with a smile. "But it would have changed the world over those 200 years to some degree, maybe even enough to close the door to the revival of war in the world. In this case the uplifted ending would have prevented a thousand wars and the death of 150 to 200 million people that were murdered in those wars. And there would be no atom bombs and dirty uranium bombs existing today."
Anton smiled. "I challenge you to make up for what Mozart had missed, and rewrite the ending for the tragedy of our century that has become a century of war. Rewrite the ending that changes the world, Peter. Bring the house down with indignation."
"I might hurt you again," I said quietly.
"That's not important, Peter. In this case let me cry. These little concerns, Peter, are of no importance when the continuity of civilization is at stake and the survival of mankind. Bring the house down, Peter, even if this hurts me so badly by crushing my illations that I might never speak to you again. If you loose me, count it a small price to pay."
"Wow," I said in reply, almost speechless. "I don't think I'll lose you," I added quietly. "The fact remains that we are all spiritual human beings with the built-in potential to respond to the principle of our humanity. I think we will find a way to respond to this principle and not loose each other, because the challenges are so immensely great, but is also the light of love that bridges many a deep mote with ease. That is why I don't give up hope. Maybe we will both find a way out of our impasse, politically and socially, and in the course of it rescue the Soviet Union so that America might yet be saved too."
Anton put her empty glass down when I finished the sentence and stood up to leave. "That's it then," she said emphatically. "We seem to have accomplished something profound this evening." She didn't smile as she stood up as someone still deep in thought. Something had touched her so deeply that the little things no longer mattered. No hug, not even a kiss ended the day. She asked the waiter to bring out coats. Perplexed he complied.
"Don't give up now," said a voice within me as I followed her towards the elevator. "That's not how this evening should end. Fred always scolds you when you're capitulating without a fight," said the voice. "Never give up on a right idea, Peter. This meeting is not over!"
"But what more can I do?" I countered the voice within. "What started in a wide open atmosphere of freedom in sharing ideas had collapsed into an impasse that now threatens to close the entire horizon as the truth has become bigger than both of us. Did I abuse the freedom that she had allowed? Would it have been better to lie to her and put her to sleep with meaningless niceties? Oh, it would have been easier and vastly more pleasant to have wasted this evening with idle conversation and without unleashing a whirlwind that she wasn't prepared for. In that case she might have accepted my invitation to dance, or to go skating. Except if I had done this, she couldn't have felt the vitality of the higher-level dance, without which the conventional dance would have been wasted had it happened."
I caught up with her near the elevator.
"Stick with the freedom, that is real," added the voice within. "Never let go of it for a single moment. Hold on to those moments of freedom that had made the evening bright. Treasure them. Bring her back into the real world gently, and continue to enrich her."
I nodded to myself, mentally.
As we reached the elevator I told Anton that the freedom that we had shared is most precious to me. I asked her quietly while we waited for the elevator to arrive, if we could we have dinner again some day. I had a feeling, immediately that I shouldn't have asked.
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