Central Library Dresden: Countless book spines stare at me.

This afternoon I sought refuge in the Dresden Central Library. It is a place I appreciate – here the bustling life of the city meets the silence of knowledge.

But my thoughts were anything but quiet. I stood in front of the shelf labeled for biographies and music history. Countless book spines stared at me, all printed with the same name: Ludwig van Beethoven.

As I leafed through and read several books – eventually tucking two volumes under my arm – I became aware of the absurdity and at the same time the tragedy of our mission in 2026.

When we talk about 'Ludwig' today, who do we actually mean?

In my mind, an image formed of four personalities that we must unite in this one man, who now sits at the computer with artist Johannes Frauenschuh in Vienna:

There is Beethoven the First (1796): The young lion we actually wanted to accompany on our tour. A man without physical ailments, pockets full of entrepreneurial spirit, a soul full of vanity and divine talent for improvising at the piano. He wants to show the world what a genius he is.

Opposite him stands Beethoven the Second: The revolutionary after the crisis of 1802. He rejected death in Heiligenstadt and chose the mission. He wants to embrace humanity fraternally, tear down class differences, and unite the world through sound.

Then I see Beethoven the Third: The lonely, sick titan of recent years. Completely deaf, trapped in a world of harsh vibrations, he composes against the grave. He writes music that no one understands in his time – messages from another sphere.

And finally, there is our guest: Beethoven the Fourth. The man in the year 2026. He possesses the body of the young man from 1796, but carries the burden and knowledge of the 56-year-old genius within him. He has been catapulted into a future that overwhelms him with images of the moon and the misery of the world. He is confused, depressed, yet wide awake.

I sat for a long time at one of the tables in the library, staring out the window at the Altmarkt. One question wouldn't leave me:

How would these four versions of Beethoven actually talk to each other?

Would the young, vain virtuoso mock the deaf old man? Would the revolutionary call the desperate returnee from 2026 to order? Or would they all remain silent together in the face of what their dreams have become in the 21st century? I borrowed the books to find answers.

But I suspect: The answer is not in the books, but in the journey that lies ahead of us.