Daughter 4254

Chapter 20

I was getting tired of the door from my room to the washroom being thrown open without any warning. I nearly jumped off of my bed even though I knew it could only be 0203. I had to start locking it.

She was saying something but I couldn’t hear her. I was lost in the middle of another strange and moving song from “The Monsters of Rock”. I pulled off my ear pods when she motioned with her hands impatiently.

“You have to start knocking.”

“I did knock.”

“No you didn’t.”

“How do you know? You wouldn’t have heard me even if I did.”

“Because I can always tell when you are lying.” I smile at her and motioned her over to the bed, eager to share my finds.

“Oh no, I don’t want to see anything. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t screw anything up.”

“No, everything is fine. It’s more than fine. It’s wonderful! How many of these files have you actually seen? or heard?”

“Plenty. We use them for testing on subjects in the lab.” She paused then added, “Actually, I have only heard one or two, and then it was only in snippets. And I’ve only seen one movie from a viewing chamber, but there was no sound. We aren’t allowed full exposure to the materials because they are still testing the effects of multimedia on the human brain.”

“So you’ve never just been to the archives and snooped around? It was amazing!”

“No, I haven’t. I left that little adventure up to the newbie who doesn’t seem to mind getting thrown out of here. I have an assignment and a life ahead of me I plan to live to the fullest from within the system.”

“You don’t need to be so dramatic. I only had time to see a few things. I think your description of ‘mind blowing’ was accurate. You wouldn’t believe the songs! I thought birds were beautiful. I’ve never cried when a bird sang to me. They were masters of... oh... I just don’t have the right vocabulary to describe all of it!”

“Let me help you out. The ‘songs’ you heard are called music. And the way they create those sounds is with their voices and these things called musical instruments.” She pointed at the strange wooden object I’d been staring at while listening to “Vivaldi - Spring”.

“Do you think anyone’s voice could make... music?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t generally go around testing out my ability to reproduce contraband.”

“Hmm.” I was taking a few minutes to process all of these things. “I can definitely hear the music in my head after I turn the reader off. Just like I can hear some of our lectures over again hours, sometimes days after they have been given.”

“That’s because you probably have an acutely audio-graphic memory.” I looked at her for an explanation and she continued, “It just means that you can recall with precise accuracy things you’ve heard before. I’d also venture to guess that you could remember things you’ve seen only once with exact detail?”

I thought about it for a moment then recalled in perfect detail the map she’d drawn for me earlier showing the way to the archives. “Yes. I believe you are right.”

She stood to leave. “It’s almost time for power off. Glad you had a good time on my card.”

“Wait! Tell me one more thing?”

“Make it quick.”

“What is the moving picture with the music called? Does it have name?”

“We call them multi-media display files but we’ve found records that indicate the ancestors called them movies.”

“Movies.” I said it out loud as she turned to leave.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my payment?”

She paused at the door and raised her eyebrows at me again “Done already? It can’t be that good if you’ve already figured it out.”

“I have and it is good. It’s...”

“Not here.” She held up her hand. “Another time.”

“But you said they hardly ever watch these...”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean never. Goodnight.”

I turned back to my reader and snuggled under my blankets, ready to spend every last minute with my new found loves until the power was cut. I had yet to finish the Marion Gold recordings and was in the middle of a piece of music called “Dance with Me”.  I couldn’t imagine how these sorts of sounds and sites could exist without anyone knowing about them. Or even the opposite, how could someone know about these wonderful experiences and not want to share them with the world? The people in the movie were moving their bodies to the beat in the music and singing with their mouths wide open, pure passion pouring out. They were sweating like field workers and obviously loving every moment of it. I longed to jump out of my bed and match their movements. I realized my heart was beating in time to the instruments and my breathing had sped up.

In the middle of all of these wonderful sensations a thought came back to me from my past:

The traditions of the past are dangerous and addictive. They corrode the mind and they waste time and abilities. Countless generations passed before us, each one more chained to their ‘hobbies’ as they were called. They were slaves to their appetites, slaves to themselves. They couldn't’ stop and the result was complete annihilation.

These were the final lines from Professor789’s lecture this week. He gave us another slide show of art and architecture to watch while he explained the dangers of these sorts of vain expenditures in detail. He eluded to more, even powerful forms of creation that our ancestors enslaved themselves with. He had to have been talking about this.. about movies and music. If I had been given unlimited access to movies and music there was a good chance that I would spend all my time taking it in. Was this what addiction felt like? Never wanting it to stop? Constantly hitting repeat? Dreading the moment when the room and the screen would go dark?

I watched for a moment longer then switched the reader off mid song with my own hand instead of waiting for the segment to end. I set it on the table by the side of the bed and placed my ear pods in the drawer underneath. I closed my eyes to the still glaring overhead lamp and took a deep breath. I found that I could still hear multiple songs from the few samples I’d stolen playing through my head. But I very carefully silenced them all, searching for one thing to focus on. It finally came to me just as the lights clicked off. The yellow bird. The first music I had ever been given. His friendly chiming sprinkled through my mind laying all my fears and worries to rest as I drifted off to sleep in, what I thought was, complete control.