The Reprieve
George Holst is looking to complete his symphonic masterpiece on a residence on the moon, but he will need a little help from the stars
By Eric W. Gershman
Sci-fi Novella, 1 hour
“I’m dying, Marjorie,” the composer said.
“George Holst is not dying. He has the best doctors.” said his lyricist. It was like she was speaking to herself.
Outside the penthouse, several of London’s best-known theaters were partially visible. All had given birth to at least one of Taylor/Holst’s theatrical successes. Some productions had spurned films. Some films had launched theme parks.
“I need to write my masterpiece before I check out.” His name was George Holst.
“Stick with the formula, George,” Marjorie urged, tossing her luxurious hair over her shoulder, now grey. “Everything we do is a masterpiece. How about that?” She picked up a large Sotheby’s brochure that detailed Luna IV, a temporary residence on the moon for anyone who could afford it, although wealthy, frustrated artists were the target. She flipped through the photographs. “You can’t be serious about this,” she said.