In Axxiom, mathematical and logical concepts were personified as nonplayer characters. Working with them created the laws of your universe, and from there, one could build ever more elaborate and involved realities. The music to the game reflected this—developing, curving back on itself, creating new complexities that curved and developed in turn.

Katrina had imagined that there would be a time onstage where she would sneak a peek at Astrid for reassurance, or to Miss Satomi for strength. But instead, Katrina focused on that boy with glasses. And next to him was a girl with a Poké Ball hanging off her violin case.

Katrina heard an old woman collecting plastic bottles. And somewhere was a girl feeling too awkward in her flowery dress.

From the darkness, Katrina willed her violin to build their world. To let there be light, let there be colors, then calculus and molecules and starlit vistas, let there be home after home after home where no one yelled and no one was beaten.

You can do this, Katrina’s song seemed to tell them. This is your universe. Your creation. Please don’t be afraid. Let’s not be afraid anymore.

A few more people stopped to listen. Some kids rode up on their bicycles. A young couple with a baby stroller. A man holding a dirty jacket and a lunch box.

Katrina played for people who loved Axxiom. For people who never played Axxiom all their lives. Katrina played for people who had never thought they could play the game at all.

As she played, she thought of a helpful voice bringing clothes she wanted, a friendly face selling Cinnabons.

This world is for you. You. You.

You …

She hadn’t even noticed when she had stopped playing.

Katrina looked at Astrid, then the audience. Finally, she realized the music was over. Then the crowd started clapping. It felt like sunshine. It sounded like rain.

She looked for her teacher, but Ms. Satomi was not in her seat. She started walking offstage to find her, but Astrid grabbed her arm.

“Katrina, thank your fans.”

Oh. Oh!

Katrina bowed. She bowed once more, and again. Then, as her legs turned to jelly beneath her, she held on to Astrid’s arm and somehow managed to leave the stage.

Immediately, Katrina was surrounded by festival staff, and then others who had come around behind the stage. Some wanted to thank her. Others wanted to share their love of violin, or ask if she played music from other games and where could they find more of her music.

And some, with quavering voices and watery eyes, wanted to talk about what they felt when Katrina played, the pain in their lives, and how they felt no one had spoken to them like that before.

Astrid placed her arm around Katrina and began to lead her away.

“Wait!”

Katrina walked to a girl who was now quietly waiting behind the stage.

“Thank you,” she said.