Chopin stood at the edge of forever, surveying all the wonders before him that his music had made. It was perfect and it was complex—not a soul could survive there alone, among his insane riffs and changes in key made only because he could.

          Chopin stood at the edge of forever until he felt a shoe on his back and the edge of forever rushing up to meet him.

          Now it was John Williams who stood at the edge of forever, and forever changed. JW could see wizards and Jedi, aliens made of Play-Doh and chicken wire and said it was good.