It would have been easy to laugh off, except that the head judge was Tremon Philippe, and there was a priceless Strad at stake.

Message boards raged at Tremon Philippe, thinking he had sold out to Chinese money. The great competitions, the great music halls … they were in Europe for a reason. And, although many Asians had admirable technique, would Asians have the soul or intuition to appreciate a tradition that Tremon himself had so vigorously defended?

Some posts insisted that allowing music from other genres and parts of the world was a slippery slope. One person even said that the movie Idiocracy was coming to music and soon we’d be reduced to fart sounds and trombones.

Still others argued back that these views were exactly what was wrong with the violin community, and applauded the poetic justice of someone so stodgy as Tremon Philippe being forced to stand next to an Asian person and kiss his ass.

Friendship? Sharing? “Shining bridges between changing communities?”

Shizuka closed her laptop. This Tso person might be a successful banker, but he obviously knew nothing about the classical music world.

“Miss Satomi. The invitation is here.”

Astrid handed her a large envelope.

All this for an invitation? Well, it was sponsored by a bank, after all. At least everything was printed on paper. Shizuka rubbed her eyes. How on earth did people spend so much time staring at a screen?

Actually, like most things from a bank, much of the information was useful if one took the time to read it. Here were the backgrounds of the judges. There was Aoi Miyazawa from the Kilbourne School. Alisa Windingstadt was there from Salzburg, as well. But other judges were from gaming companies, from film studios—there was even a judge from NASA.

And here were the contestants.

Some had already won competitions this year. There were two violinists from China—in fact, Shizuka had seriously considered taking one as a student before hearing of Tamiko Grohl. There was a composer from the Sakha Republic, and a musician who had escaped persecution in Myanmar. Another was studying in Berlin and hoping to one day build a world-class concert hall in her native Cameroon.

And?

Transgender icon and video celebrity Katrina Nguyen is an exciting trailblazer in the music world. New to the realm of violin competition, with success only possible in the age of social media, she has become an Internet star on video and social media platforms. Katrina is a brave individual who, in just a few months, has bridged boundaries in music, performance, and transgender visibility.

“Transgender … icon?” Shizuka glanced at Astrid.

Astrid shrugged.

But before she could say anything, they were interrupted by the clatter of Katrina walking into the kitchen table.

“Katrina! Are you okay?”

“Miss Satomi, did you write that bio?” she said, in a voice floating somewhere far away.

“No—” Shizuka paused. Katrina had not even seen the invitation. “Wait, how did you find out?”