Got the shock of my life. At "Shelter," an intimate musical surrounded by stereopticon slides, I found myself becoming quite accustomed to the notion that all of the orchestration for the tunes was being provided by a companionable computer named Arthur, whose lights blinked in rhythm to the notes being churned out. As one does at musicals, I found myself turning my head in Arthur's direction each time an intro began, accepting him (it?) as the source of all melody. Once, though, I saw something other than Arthur. I saw two ghostly hands, white, disembodied, waving frantically, like those of a drowning man making one last effort.

Then I realized what, or whose, they were. They belonged to the conductor, the real conductor, hidden deep in the curtained orchestra pit conducting his real hidden orchestra. Yes, there was actual music being played here after all, just as there...