The concert hall is full, the candles are lit and the orchestra is tuning up. There is just one problem: pixel Mozart is still at home on the other side of town, finishing the last page of a brand-new piece that nobody has heard yet. He grabs the music, jams on his wig and runs. Tonight's race across town has a name: Salzburg Sprint.
The narrow streets are busy with market stalls and musicians. Music stands are left out in the squares, cello cases lean against the walls, piles of sheet music block the way and loose pages flutter through the air in the wind. Golden notes float along the route, just waiting to be caught. Collect them and reach the hall before the first chord.
