Rand and the voice...

It had been Chris Rand's intent to take control of everything. By creating his own reality he would be able to create the destiny that he wished. His plan had been so clever and so simple. It was really quite brilliant, he thought. But there was a problem. He had tried to deny it; had tried to dismiss it. He had done everything within his power to get rid of it. But there it was. No matter what he did, nothing changed. For every foul trick of deception or destruction that he played there was the unrelenting fact that there was some sort of voice in the energy of Pamina's flute, and it seemed to be speaking to him, or around him, or about him.

He ran to doctors at the Northland Municipal Hospital in order to explain to them about his problem. He tried to explain that it was not really his problem, but that of someone else. He tried to do so in secrecy, but the Salzburg State Orchestra had to give him some sick time in order to do so, and so there were a few there who were aware of his plight. He did his best to explain that this was not his fault! If they would just talk to Pamina they would realize that this was her problem and not his, and take control of the situation. They could stop the voice! But they refused. They gave him bewildered looks instead, and tried to find a medication that would help him to calm down instead.

Mildred's Choice

Mildred Payne faced a decision long ago, in the years when she alone, she felt, held complete power over Pamina and her gifts. She could have chosen to be subservient to them -- to have sacrificed everything for their development, to have stood in the wings and gathered attention and praise, and maybe even worldly substance, second-hand. Yet, in order to do this she would have had to confront an issue intrinsic to her nature -- she would have had to acknowledge that she didn't understand everything that needed to be understood, she did not have all the information she needed to have. Mildred would have had to reveal that weakness to others as she tramped around trying to find those who did have what she was lacking. And in the process, she knew without a doubt, that she would end up losing control. The mere thought was anathema to her.

And so, Mildred decided on a different scheme -- she would control everything; every breathe, every word. She would turn this strange child into something she felt comfortable with. Nothing would escape her stubby fingers. She would turn the child against itself, and all the while be as powerful as God.