The Music Of Zetaph THE MUSIC OF ZETAPH Soft and smooth quarter notes shifted evenly across the piano keys. They passed by like a sweet spring’s breeze so pleasant that they gave me chills. With my eyes closed and my head swaying rhythmically to the piano’s song, I sat peacefully. My mother sat next to me with her arms spread around me, her slender hands dancing across the milky white keys. Music has always had that strong effect on me, even then at age five. At that moment, the music painted a beautiful canvass, and right then and there, I was free; there was no pain anymore. “That was Beethoven, Sil,” my mom informed me, looking into my solid dark-blue eyes. “Who?” I exhaled softly, as if I had awaked from a dream. “Beethoven, sweetie; he was a musician.” “Why’d you stop the song?” “I finished the song, Sil, only about two minutes ago. You seemed kinda’ lost there for a second, hon.” “Play the song again, mommy,” I pleaded in my partially formed New York accent. “Sorry, Sil, I have to go to work in a few minutes and…“ “Please, mommy, just one more time?” I interrupted. “Well, I suppose just one more time around wouldn’t hurt none,” she agreed. The song started again. It was just as beautifully as the first time. But just as the feeling and emotions of the music began to pour from the metal instrument, the doorbell beeped quick and evenly three consecutive times. The music stopped and we both turned our heads slowly facing the door. I remember thinking, at that moment, that this was how it started only one year before. “I’ll be right back, Sil,” my mom assured with hesitance that tainted her voice. We never had many visitors. In fact, the last visitor we had shot my dad. The bandit shot my dad for his measly, and nearly empty, currency card. That was so painful. My mom had thought a move to a different city district would solve our problems; make things better again. That’s what my mom had hoped. My mom cautiously leaned over and pressed the button to turn on the computerized view screen that displays the hallway outside the door. The screen remained black. “The crazy thing’s not working, I wonder what’s wrong with it?” she said quietly, only half talking to me. “Should I open it, Sil?” my mom asked me, more talking to herself again. “Why do you ask, mom, is something wrong?” I answered, despite my mom’s drifting mind. I wish, now, that I had just said no. My mom released the air pressure lock on the door causing a gasping sound to pour out of the door. She lifted the metal handle on the door slowly, and slid the door open horizontally a crack. The chrome barrel of a laser poked shakily through the slit in the door. My mom threw her hands in the air submissively, as I dodged behind the metallic piano for cover in the background. “Take what you want, kay? Just don’t hurt anyone. Just don’t’ hurt me or my-“ A silent and profound pulse entered into my mom. A soundless and instant death right before my eyes as I watched. She dropped loosely to the floor. I was so petrified with fear and shock that I was completely still. I could not move an inch. And, in the end, that’s what saved me. He had looted as much stuff out of the apartment as he could before the City Guard came. I just sat there, hardly breathing, as he ripped off our stuff. I didn’t know then what I know now. He had his gun set on internal surge pulse, a name for a shot that kills a person from the inside out. The shock that that gun submitted was so strong that it instantly killed my mother. What a sick way to kill anyone. As soon as I was sure he was gone, I rushed over to my mother’s side in search of life but found none. I sank emptily inside myself, my stomach throbbed heavily, and my eyes filled with salty tears. My pain was too great for me to even cry out loud. I checked my mother shakily for a pulse, but only in vain. My mind flashed with the memories of her. I collapsed helplessly on top of my mother, and at last the tears flowed, and I sobbed. I was just a kid, and it was too much; all in the span of two years. Another funeral of a parent to darken my life. “But that whole story was 15 long years ago, if you can believe that. Oh, make that 16-otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting in this Elevator-Bar, or, E-Bar, if you like. “ The Robot E-Bar Tender just blinks its metal eyes and scrubs the glass counter once quickly in a circle. “Oh yea, I forgot, ya’ probably don’t care. Well, that’s okay, ‘cause it was nice getting’ some of my troubles of my chest,” I say as the Robot tender holds out his arm for me to slide my currency card, or CC, down his arm. “Thank you for stopping at E-bar number 27 of district 93. Discounts are available at-“ “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,“ I interrupt its metallic jargon that I’ve heard a one hundred times before. “Stop by again!” It wheezes mechanically. I look back as I pull my tiny purse and my music bag over my shoulder and wink at him hospitably. I walk away and roll my eyes irritably. Honestly, if humans didn’t have robots, we couldn’t manage to even walk, let alone drive anywhere. Heck, we can’t even walk alone; even the floors are automated! But If we can’t manage to do anything ourselves, at least we could program our technology with some personality. But what do I know, I’m just an Azu. The E-bar turns and turns as it moves slowly to its next stop at the eighteenth level of building 11 of district 93 of Manhattan, New York. Huge glass windows revealing the white and smog-ridden clouds outside surround the octagon shaped E-Bar. The view would certainly be more beautiful if it wasn’t ridden with pollution. I get off at my stop off the E-bar and move on to the conveyor that leads to my commy, or compartment. There’s just not enough room for full-blown apartments these days, only compartments. They make up for the lack of room by filling it with automated everything, and I do mean everything. Only the privileged few can afford and have enough prestige to own an apartment, let alone a house. I sit down on the seat on the conveyor and cross my blue legs. “Please press the white button to fasten your safety harness. Keep your arms, legs, and carry-on luggage within the perimeter of the conveyor at all times. Thank you for using the Pedestrian Conveyor System,” the monotone automated voice commanded. Of course, knowing that the user of the PCS only has 30 seconds to board, get ‘fastened,’ and relax, I was one step ahead of the automated voice. The PCS is miles long; it goes all over Manhattan, from district to district carrying countless pedestrians from place to place. The thing is, one has some control of where you go on the PCS; as in up, down, start and stop. That’s if you don’t preprogram it first. Judging by the fact that it’s nearly impossible to control your seat just right on the PCS, unless you’re a professional, one’s better off just using the automated option. My life is one big just irony, I tell ya’. It’s one big weird irony, I should say. I was born an Azu. Yes, that’s right, an Azu. If that sounds familiar, it should. Azu sounds a lot like Azure, which is another name for blue. ‘The Blue People’ we’re sometimes called. But if you know anything about ‘The Blue People,’ you know not to call us that, unless, of course, you’re socially blind. But the obvious is true; from head to toe, inside and out, scalp to the tips of our hair we’re blue-hence the name. But about my life being one big irony, the story, short and sweet, is as follows. I was, catch this, left in the hallway outside the Blue family compartment, which was composed of the newlyweds Alana and Gerry Blue. They thought it was fate that a blue baby was left on their, the Blue family’s doorstep. I know it sounds cheesy but it’s the real beef. Up until that time, there had been no Azus known to Manhattan. And the strange thing is they all seemed to be ‘discovered’ at the same time. Maybe because they were all in hiding in fear of rejection; no one is really sure. Well, at any rate, I was one of them. My real parents-named me Silvia, Silvia Blue. I say real parents because after their death I went through a countless number of foster parents who one after one rejected me, made up excuses, and got rid of me. I saw past their act, though, I knew the real reason was because I was Azu; because I was different. That’s the timeless dilemma of the human race; never can accept differences or change. In any case, I’m twenty-one now, have my own commy, and a great job at The Music Company (which is the only Music Company). My only problem now is that I’m alone; no one would dare approach any one of the only five hundred Azus on Earth, let alone me. The conveyor stops at my commy building and I get off casually, my thoughts still drifting. Beneath the bitter stares of the loiterers inside my commy building, I stride across the lobby and into the auto-lift. “Floor 13” I command the auto-lift, which hums for three-seconds then dings at my floor. If there’s one thing everyone can always count on throughout time, it’s the dinging sound that the auto-lift makes when it reaches the specific floor. Oh wait, unless it breaks down-forget what I said then. I amble down the long hallway to my compartment, number 1313 no less, and place my hand on the hand scanner to release the lock to open the door. “Silvia Blue,” I announce to release the voice sensitive lock on the door. “Can’t never be to careful in New York,” I comment on the high security. This is normal, though, what can you expect in today’s world? As I step in the tiny room and the automated security on the door relocks, I hang up my purse and music bag and move casually over to the wall. At the touch of a button my bed plunges out of the wall and I collapse on top of it, exhaling deeply. “Man, there’s gotta be something else out there more than this” I say deeply, turning my gaze outside the window and into the fog of the clouds. * * * * * * * * * * “There it is, Zetaphians, earth,” Queo Marqua, our president, sings rhythmically in his powerful deep voice as we sit in our spacecraft a couple of thousand miles from earth looking through a view screen at the small blue orb. “You’ve heard about it, you’ve sang about it, and now here it is sitting before you. It has been four thousand years since we-as the people of Zetaph- have returned to assess the progress of the humans inhabiting this uncivilized planet. If it weren’t for us, as you well know, those two unclothed humans that first populated this earth would’ve still been wandering the desert with leaves covering them. We set them off as a people, we gave them language, we gave them culture, and most of all we gave them music. We gave those humans the essence of our culture. And only twenty-one years ago today, we transported the first group of Zetaphians to earth. And now we will see, we will see if those young, infant Zetaphians we sent to this planet have integrated themselves into their culture, and shown their natural skill of performing precious music. We will see if the four thousand years we gave the human race to develop, prosper and become greater has paid off. But my greatest hope is that we ourselves may gain from this experience. That we may find that humans have developed a new and greater form of music that we can appreciate and add on to our own in a peaceful exchange of culture. But as we stand now, we have a fifty-fifty chance that our patience has paid off; that music has developed in their culture and that our fellow Zetaphians have been easily accepted. What we will truly discover I do not know. But this I proclaim to you; if the humans disappoint us, they will be destroyed. Or, if I’m in a good mood, they will be removed from earth and place on another oxygenated and vegetated planet. But if they’re really lucky, we’ll let them be for another four thousand years and see how they do. All of you recruits know your mission; find the ‘lost’ Zetaphian’s location and bring them civilly to our mutual gathering place in the beautiful Antarctica, as the humans call it. And remember, when they ask you who you are, tell them with pizzazz that you are their brother or sister from Pluto-also as the humans call our beautiful Zetaph. Now, we have the moment of truth; Uvious, take us in.” Queo concludes with melodious flair. The sacred planetary anthem plays enthusiastically all over the craft as we move closer and closer to the small blue marble in the black starry sky. All of us recruits including me, Zelio Xerix-or Zee, for short-hold our hands behind our thin blue ears in respect. I have never felt so anxious in all of my 2200 “Zetaph” years or 22 human years until now. I’m designated to one of the biggest most populated human cities on the planet, which is New York City. If my best friend, Kelzem, weren’t standing right next to me at this moment, I would be going completely out of orbit. “Are you nervous?” Kelzem asks me lyrically as the earth gets closer. “N-no, of course not”, I stutter losing my tone a bit. “Did I detect a loss of tone and rhythm in your voice?” Kelzem tried harmoniously, “you really must be nervous.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply steadying my rhythm and varying my tone. Kelzem just smiles, that one smile he gets when he knows he’s out toned me again. “Oh, isn’t the blue just as magnificent as they described,” a female recruit points out, looking at the view screen that pictures earth. Everyone in the half-circle of recruits facing the view screen nods their heads in agreement. “No,” one recruit ventures, attracting the stares of everyone in the circle, “I think it’s much bluer.” Everyone hums musically in hearty agreement. Not before long, our enormous ship lands gracefully-and with the rhythmic sound of the ship touching down-in the harsh white and beautiful cold of Antarctica. The recruits march in tempo off the ship and into the perfect cold. * * * * * * * * * * “Lucy, I’m home!” announces Ricky Ricardo from I Love Lucy on my Wall-O-Vision. Oh, I just can’t get enough of 1950’s TV. I don’t know what it is, but most of the time the past always seems so much better than the present. I think it is. The door beeper sounds. I turn off the WTV and listen with my acute hearing. Silence. No, I can hear something. It sounds almost like humming. The door beeper sounds again. “I certainly hope this ain’t what I’m thinking,” I announce to myself, as I start getting up. But before I even have time to consider opening it, the door slides open and someone in a long dark cloth from head to toe walks in. “What the! How on earth did you get in here, you punk?” I shout, grabbing a hidden laser from under my couch and aiming it right at its head, shaking. “You were chosen. You are one of the ‘lost’,” it spoke with such music in its voice. “Look buddy, I don’t know what you’re after or what you want but-“ “What is that device on the wall, there?” It interrupts harmoniously. “My micro-disk player? It plays music what’d ya think it’s for?” “Is that a music maker below it?” “Oh, ya mean my keyboard? Well I’m sorry Joe, but it’s not for sale. So either leave or your pretty robe gets some holes poked in it.” I threaten, poised to shoot. “Perform it,” it demands. “What?” “Play your keyboard.” “Now? Are you crazy? Look, pal, I made you an offer and I hope you’ll accept the more positive option of the two. So get out unless you have a death wish!” “I’m unarmed, I’m not here to hurt you. I-“ “Well how do I know that! I can’t see through your creepy little grim reaper coat, now can I?” He pulls his black cloth off from around him and lets it drop to the floor, revealing his entirely blue skin and hair, just like mine. His clothes looks a lot like something an ancient warrior would wear. “I am Zelio, of the planet Zetaph, or better known to you as Pluto,” he speaks. “I-I-I, I mean you, you’re, uh-“ “Just like you,” he clarifies with harmony, “your rhythm is off as well as your tone,” he says it almost with pride. “But you, but I, I thought,” tears start welling in my eyes and I lose what’s left of my composure, “where have you been all these years?” “A few light years away, that’s all,” he says musically as he smiles. “You have an interesting accent.” “I guess it comes standard,” I laugh despite my crying. He takes my hand and we walk out of the door together, like long lost friends. For a change, there’s something worth while waiting outside my door. * * * * * * * * * * “My fellow Zetaphians,” Queo begins. “Although I’m displeased-to say the least- with the result of 4,000 years of waiting, my happiness for the return of the ‘lost’ Zetaphians and the music that they have brought with them from Earth, out weighs the bad. Despite all of the horrible things I’ve concluded about Earth, I found that their music is unique and an asset onto our culture. I mean, some of these songs created by these humans are incredible. And setting aside the fact that humans can be so monotone and lose their tempo so easily, they can be musically brilliant if they really want to. I found that this sample is the essence of their musical achievements, the cornerstone of their harmonious accomplishments. I want you all to listen and learn from this example,” he presses a button and plays an earth song over the craft’s sound system. I, being a citizen of earth-an American no less-can’t help but hold in laughter at Queo’s decision for earth’s best musical achievement in 4,000 years. “Who let the dogs out! (Bark-bark-bark-bark-bark) Who let the DOGS out!”
Copyright © 2003 Rachael E Bills |