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noises—bombs exploding, fireworks, jack hammers, dogs barking, kids screaming, the list went on. I proceeded to begin my speech, knowing none of them could hear me.
    Professor Brown—the one who’d been convinced I was cheating during my audition—raised his hand as his face twisted into a grimace that gave me way too much pleasure. I paused the background sounds. “Yes, Professor Brown?”
    “We can’t hear you at all.”
    “Exactly.”
    “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
    “This is what it’s like for someone who can’t focus. Someone who is bombarded with too much stimuli all day, every day. Someone with Sensory Processing Disorder. Someone like me.”
    I laid another iLs, an old one of mine that didn’t work reliably, on the table. “Through the use of this device, an iLs, and the subsequent music therapy, I was able to conquer my demons, focus, and ultimately excel.”
    “We’ll see,” Professor Brown said with a sly smile.
    Unfazed by his attempt to rattle me now that I was on a roll, I just smiled and kept going. “I was only five when I was diagnosed with my condition and assigned an Integrated Listening System. School was impossible for me when I started. The noise…” I trailed off, remembering the barrage of voices. I stomped down the rising panic and continued on. “Well, let’s just say it wasn’t too dissimilar from what I just played for you. I literally couldn’t hear the teacher, and I was failing as a result. My teacher was frustrated, and I was non-functional.
    “When nothing else helped, they tried music therapy, and it unlocked the prison that had become my mind. Just think what might have happened to me if I’d never been given an iLs, if I’d never been introduced to music therapy. Realistically, I’d probably be in isolation in an institution.”
    I let that thought soak in. “What a waste of a life that would be.
    “Michael Thaut, Ph.D. and Gerald McIntosh, M.D., said in an article, ‘Music can drive general reeducation of cognitive, motor, and… language functions via shared brain systems and plasticity.’ This is a relatively new discovery, made within the last five years, using brain-imaging technology to see how the brain relates to music. It’s now being used to help stroke victims, cancer patients, and amputees, as well as the mentally ill. Who else could it help? Could we use it on the general public to reduce incidents of road rage? Could it be part of the key to unlocking the cure for Parkinson’s disease? Alzheimer’s? FTD? How far could we reach?
    “How many lost souls can be saved with music therapy? All? No, probably not. Some? Maybe. One? Certainly. Does that make it worth it? Absolutely.” With that, I was finished. I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes. I’d raced through it. Frowning, I hoped that hadn’t hurt me.
    “I believe it’s time to open the floor for questions.” So you can rip my fingernails off one by one.
    “Why is one life worth your entire career path?” Professor Brown asked.
    “Because, it is.” Excellent answer. “What if your granddaughter gets cancer one day? She is dying, and your family is desperate, so you take her to a highly regarded specialist, a miracle worker. That miracle worker saves your granddaughter. But he wasn’t always a miracle worker. Years ago, he was a troubled teenager flunking out of school, constantly getting into fights, heading toward a life of gang violence and drugs. Until his desperate parents brought him to me, and I showed him the world of music. He didn’t respond at first, but I kept trying until I found something that spoke to him. And he took that message and saved lives with it. That is why one life is worth it.”
    They were quiet for a moment, and Professor Peterson was beaming. She cleared her throat. “I think that does it, but let’s ask some of the obligatory questions, shall we? Where do you see this field going in the future?”
    “With new technology, I suppose the