Chapter 20 — Music Sent After School

Nhien stood behind the console, her hand placed on the red button but did not rush to press it. Through the glass, the school yard was more crowded than expected. A group of students held guitars, a few parents stopped by out of curiosity, and the lower grades shared pieces of paper with song lyrics. Duy walked over and placed a roll of bandages next to her hand.

“If the signal goes out, use this reel,” he said. “If they both lose, Lam will keep talking until people forget that the program has a problem.”

Lam heard it and immediately turned around. "I call it voice rescue skills. There is a proper certificate, but it just hasn't been issued yet."

Nhien laughed, then looked at the screen. The number of online listeners is increasing every minute. She remembers the first meeting, when there were only three people sitting in a dusty room and everyone thought the club would disappear after the semester. Now they have a stage, an arsenal of sounds, and strangers waiting for their stories to be played.

The first performance is a recording by a twelfth grader. She asked to remain anonymous and just wanted to talk about the feeling of having to choose a major when the whole family has decided for her. The voice is shaky, but after each silence there is a very clear sentence. Adjust the gain just enough, without making the voice more polished. He left the breathing sound intact, because that is the most real part of the person speaking.

When the recording ended, Lam did not intervene immediately. She waited three seconds, then asked the listener to send the message: "If you don't know what you want today, you can start by telling the truth about what you don't want." That question caused the comment section to slow down. Looking at the text running on the screen, Nhien realized that many people were telling the same stories but had never told them in the same place.

In the corner of the yard, Vu Tan stood next to the backup speaker, arms crossed, watching. He no longer looked like someone who came to check for errors. When Duy passed by, he just nodded and whispered: "Maintaining silence is also a way to make sound." After hearing this, Duy did not respond, but his shoulders relaxed slightly.

At the end of the session, Nhien closed the lid of the recorder. She asked everyone what was most memorable. Khang raised his hand first: "No one spilled water on the socket." Lam objected: “That is my own achievement.” The whole room laughed. Nhien put the tape in the box, knowing that a good program is not one without problems, but one that makes people want to come back to listen to the next part.

Open mic night is set up in three areas: a small stage, a listening table and a radio repair corner. Each area has a responsible person, a separate electrical outlet and a copy of instructions. Lam said preventing incidents is more important than the number of performances, but Khang said incidents also need a schedule.

Nhien put colored tape on the floor so viewers wouldn't step on the rope. Duy tried the guitar in a low-reverberation corner. Ms. Mai went around, asking each person if they needed to stop. No one knows what they will discover tonight, but everyone knows how to stop when necessary.

Open mic night failed

The second open mic night was so carefully prepared that everyone was sure there would be an incident. Lam printed the program three times, Khang colored each wire, Nhien checked the source with an eight-step list, Duy brought three tape recorders.

The first incident happened before opening: the event name sign was blown into the ditch by the wind.

Second incident: Lam mistakenly read "After the Last Bell" as "After the Last Banana".

Third incident: Khang played the sound of a rooster crowing instead of the school bell because the two files had almost the same name.

Audience fake smile, while Ms. Mai rubbed her forehead. Duy said: “At least the sound of chickens is allowed.”

Nhien had to admit the evening wasn't perfect, but it had vitality. Students bring in short audio clips and tell the story themselves. A friend said the sound of the elevator door reminded me of the first time I took the exam. A little girl reads the names of people who helped her learn to swim. Aunt Huong plays an old radio, including a bread advertisement from ten years ago.

In the corner of the yard, Minh Quang stood next to Bao, not on stage. Duy saw it, didn't say hello, but didn't turn away.

In the middle of the program, the sound map projection screen system froze. Khanh pressed the key, the computer displayed a strange window: **upload_03.wav**. Nhien withdrew her life. Screen turns off.

“Someone tried to download tape,” Khang said.

“From which machine?”

“Stage control machine.”

Lam holds the microphone. “Everyone takes a two-minute break because the show is in need of… artistic thinking.”

Meanwhile, Duy checked the USB port. A small memory card is stuck in the secondary slot. The name on the card is **B**.

Bao realized. "It's not mine. I don't have this card."

Naturally not plugged in. She took a photo and sealed it. The school lawyer prepares a record.

The event continues using battery-powered equipment. Duy plays “After 17:16”. The melody has three notes, the sound of an old bell and the sound of students' feet. Nhien controlled the small light, Lam read the introduction without title. The audience was silent in a warm way.

At the end, a student asked Duy: "Is your lesson the one on the tape?"

Duy holds the microphone. "No. But I listened to that song to write this song. I won't take anything without permission."

Nhien continued: "And if one day the creator wants to make it public, they will say it themselves."

The audience applauded. Not too big, but real enough.

After the program, Bao gave Nhien a note. He wrote: in 2014, the person who opened the room door was an employee named Trong, from Ha Audio's operations department. Trong received verbal orders from Vu Tan, but Minh Quang signed to confirm the access device without asking.

“Your father knows about it?” Duy asked.

Minh Quang replied: "I knew someone took the equipment, but I didn't know they took the tape."

“You still signed.”

"Correct."

“So my father's name was erased by Vu Tan, but his responsibility cannot be erased either.”

Minh Quang nodded. “I don't ask for your forgiveness.”

Duy did not say more. He held the pick and looked at the cleared stage.

When everyone left, Nhien and Duy sat in room 3C. Memory card file B was checked under the presence of Ms. Mai. It contains a cut audio track, along with the following text: **If the last page is published, Ha Audio will lose ownership. Otherwise, Vu Tan will continue to use ice. Choose.**

“This is coercion,” Lam said.

“Yes,” Nhien replied.

“So we don't choose to follow them.”

Duy looked at her. “We choose according to the creator.”

They contacted Ms. Lan. She agreed to meet the next morning, but asked not to record the conversation. The whole group prepares questions, no computer, no livestream.

Before turning off the lights, Duy asked Nhien: "What if Ms. Lan doesn't want to give the page?"

“We respect.”

“Even if everything is not resolved?”

“Some things cannot be solved by taking more rights from others.”

Duy nodded. “I like this sentence.”

“You can put it in the song.”

“I will ask first.”

Lam walked in from the door, holding a nameplate that fell into the ditch, the word "Bell" blurred into "Banana". All three looked, then burst out laughing.

On the hallway speakers, the sound of chickens rang out again system is turned off.

Khang checked the log. The playback file is named: **after_school_03E**.

At the end of the chicken sound, an anonymous female voice said:

“The person who gave the key to Vu Tan was not Trong.”

A clicking sound rang out. Then silence.

Lam asked everyone to sit down before concluding. Khang checked the wire, Nhien checked the log, Duy looked at card B. There were no new files in the device, only sound was played from the temporary controller.

“There are people near the system,” Khang said.

“Or try to make us think so,” Duy replied.

They don't look around the yard. Ms. Mai called security and asked to keep the scene intact. The camera recorded a figure passing by after the audience left, but it was not identifiable enough.

The open mic night was interrupted, but the audience was still waiting. Lam honestly said that the system had a problem, not blaming. One person suggested singing without a microphone. The whole yard sang along, clumsily but loudly.

Nhien looked at Duy and saw him smiling. Not every program needs good equipment; Sometimes the listener becomes the speaker himself.

After the event, the group checked the B card in the presence of a lawyer. It contained the cutout and a forced document, but no signature. They are saved as is, not opened on a computer connected to the network.

Bao said he never sent a card. Ngoc confirmed that her account was copied. Fragments point to Vu Tan, but not enough to incriminate.

Minh Quang asked the company to provide legal support for Duy. Duy said he would only accept it if the contract clearly stated no exchange for song rights. Minh Quang agreed.

Before locking the room, Nhien asked Duy if he still wanted to practice. He said yes, because learning how to record was better than continuing to listen to the same old song.

“I want to write the next part,” he said.

“Then write tomorrow.”

In the hallway, the sound of chickens played again. Lam looked at the speaker and announced that the Chairman was invited to be a guest musician. The lizard did not object.

The open mic evening was a technical failure but a success in terms of listeners. The school board received a table of data: the number of people staying after school hours increased, the number of classes sending audio increased, and no feedback was used outside the conditions. Ms. Mai said that was proof that the room had educational value.

Nhien sent a report to Minh Quang. He replied without editing, just forwarded it to the school board. For once, she didn't have to defend the club by her last name.

Duy looked at card B again, clearly stating not to open any more. He said he wanted to wait for Ms. Lan and the lawyer. Lam said it was a sleepy but mature decision.

Khang pasted a piece of paper on the speaker: "If chicken sounds play, check the file before blaming the Chairman."

Before leaving, Nhien and Duy stood at the gate. Duy asked her if she wanted to hear a demo from the studio. She nodded. He pressed play, the sound of a train passing in the night.

Nhien said: "This lesson can start after everyone leaves."

Duy replied: "So it's just on time."

Khang pasted a piece of paper on the speaker: "If chicken sounds play, check the file before blaming the Chairman."

Nhien said: "This lesson can start after everyone leaves."

Duy replied: "So it's just on time."