Gottfried Steiner walked toward them like a storm. He was the alphorn champion, and everything about him looked perfect and traditional. His alphorn shined in the morning sun, and his jacket was perfectly pressed.
"Brunner," he said coldly to Kaspar. "I heard strange sounds coming from here." His pale blue eyes looked at Emma's equipment with disgust. "What is all this electronic stuff?"
Kaspar stood straighter, but Polly noticed his hands were shaking. "Gottfried, I didn't expect you to come here."
"Of course you didn't," Gottfried interrupted. "You've been hiding up here like a hurt animal. And now you're working with foreign academics and their toys."
Emma's British accent became sharper when she got angry. "These 'toys' show acoustic properties that have existed in these mountains for thousands of years. Just because something has always been done one way doesn't mean it's the only way."
"So we should abandon our heritage?" Gottfried's voice became dangerously quiet. "Pollute our traditions with modern nonsense?" He turned back to Kaspar. "I heard about your condition. Maybe it's time to let real players carry on the tradition."
The words hung in the cold air. Polly watched Kaspar's face change from shame to anger, and finally to something new: defiance.
"You know what, Gottfried?" Kaspar's voice cracked, but he continued. "You're right. I can't play like I used to. But maybe that's freed me to discover something you never could."
He picked up his alphorn and raised it to his lips. This time, he didn't fight his limitations. Instead, he released short bursts of sound that bounced across the mountainside. Emma's equipment lit up, tracking the complex echo patterns.
The result was amazing. It wasn't the traditional alphorn's lonely call—it was a symphony of mountain and man. Each broken note found its partner in the natural acoustics of the rock faces.
Gottfried's face turned from red to white to purple. "That's not real alphorn playing," he said angrily.
"It's evolution," Polly said helpfully.
Suddenly, other alphorns began playing from different points around the mountain. They weren't challenging Kaspar—they were joining him, creating a spontaneous mountain orchestra.
Gottfried stood frozen as his worldview crumbled. "This won't stand," he finally said. "The festival committee will hear about this." He turned and walked away angrily.
Kaspar lowered his instrument slowly. "Did that really just happen?"
"Oh, it happened," Emma confirmed, showing him her tablet. "And I have the data to prove it."
But Polly noticed something the others missed—Gottfried hadn't gone far. He stood just around the bend, his alphorn still in hand, listening to the music echoing through the mountains.
