Anna Strauss played her violin every evening in Vienna’s Stadtpark, where echoes of waltzes drifted through chestnut trees. One misty dusk, she found an ornate music box beneath a statue of Schubert. When she wound it, melodies unlike any she’d heard shimmered in the air—music that seemed to belong to other centuries. Intrigued, Anna followed the tune through Vienna’s old streets. Each time she wound the box, the world shifted: one moment she was at a royal ball in a candlelit palace, the next, she found herself in a futuristic concert hall with laser-lit violins. Along the way, Anna met musicians from across time—Mozart improvising in a tavern, a DJ sampling Beethoven in a neon club. They each added a note to her song, weaving past and future together. At dawn, Anna played her violin with the music box at the city’s heart. The city seemed to dance with her—tram bells harmonizing, clocks chiming in sync, children whirling in waltz steps. Vienna’s music, she realized, was a symphony of all its times, forever unfinished, forever alive. When the music box’s tune faded, Anna smiled: she’d found her place, and her melody, in Vienna’s eternal song.