Between Dream and Beat: Phantom Life Without an Official ID?

In Vienna's twilight embrace, Line 1 travels, a ghost ship of light and shadow. Few souls within, like shadows in the fog. Beethoven enters, clutching the phone like a new score, symphonies of words in his deaf head – the ticket an echo of distant worlds.

The conductor, polite as a chamberlain: "Ticket, please?" No reaction. "Excuse me, sir. Without a valid ticket, I must charge a transportation fee of over 100 euros. Your ID, please." Beethoven, lost in his inner orchestra, looks through him. "Come along, we'll settle this outside."

The train stops. Doors hiss. And the titan breaks loose: "What do you dare, to chase me away from your vehicle?! I am Ludwig van Beethoven!" The conductor, astonished: "Are you... Beethoven? Ludwig – the composer? A bad joke!"

But lo and behold – a muse, fiddle in the soul, approaches: "Stop! He hears nothing. Take this for him." Golden coins flash like notes. Her whisper to the deaf: "Your sounds are the real journey." The conductor laughs: "A genius on my shift! Free ride for this show today." Beethoven, fists threatening like a conductor's baton, storms back on board.

Blink – the curtain falls. Dream torn!
Beethoven himself says: "Nothing is more beautiful than a firm anchor!“
Our phantom needs an official ID, otherwise he will rage forever through the stations.
Paperwork overture, begin!
Laugh...