Ep. 2 - Hideaway [Deuce]

[Deleted]

It was subtle, but the man’s demeanor brightened.

“Currently?” he said. “Recently I’ve been going back and forth between Rachmaninoff and, er… Jefferson Airplane. A little eclectic of a mix to be playing while in flight, nothing new or ground breaking, but I like it. Mostly I tend listen to music that falls within either genre, each a classic of sorts. And both genres are dramatic. I like dramatic at times.”

He chuckled.

“I’ve never heard of Godspeed before,” he said. “Hang on a moment while I look them up. Oh, they’re Canadian,” he said an instant later. His voice reflected surprise. “I think I recognize one of their albums, although I can’t recall ever hearing their music before. Do you own digital copies of any of their songs? If you enjoy their music I wouldn’t mind hearing it myself. Is it really that depressing?”

The man regarded her curiously. “You don’t strike me as someone who would listen to bleak music. Unless I’m mistaken, and it’s just a good sound.”

[Deleted]

A thread she could seize onto. He seemed more approachable after the topic was brought up, and the singer continued forward. "Jefferson Airplane, you said? Have you ever looked at Jefferson Starship? They were made up of a number of people who left Airplane. I'm not sure if they're still around, but their music definitely has to be about. You're like Google on steroids, after all."

“I’ve never heard of Godspeed before,” he said. “Hang on a moment while I look them up. Oh, they’re Canadian,” he said an instant later. His voice reflected surprise. “I think I recognize one of their albums, although I can’t recall ever hearing their music before. Do you own digital copies of any of their songs? If you enjoy their music I wouldn’t mind hearing it myself. Is it really that depressing?”

"It is — they've been called 'chamber rock'. It's dramatic, though, and, I do have digital copies, in fact," said Sarita. "Thank god for an iTunes account. Bit of a pain, since I have to find places that forget to stop their computer from installing things, but once I can get it working...."

She smiled, and quietly rattled off her password and account name. "Feel free to use it whenever you'd like, especially if you can access it with what you have. Though, you can probably rip their stuff from YouTube pretty easily, as well."

“The man regarded her curiously. “You don’t strike me as someone who would listen to bleak music. Unless I’m mistaken, and it’s just a good sound.”

"It's an amazing sound," replied Sarita, "and it deserves all the critical praise it gets. Yeah, it's not something you'd expect someone to be enjoying on a warm, sunny day, but I'm not something most people expect. Quite literally, if some of the smaller towns I've busked in were to be asked."

The look of a sudden idea appeared, and Sarita looked over at D. "You know, I've been wondering: what do Cybertronians consider music, Deuce? Is it similar to electronic and dubstep from Earth, or am I completely off starboard and sitting in the water?"

It might have been an odd question, but her talks with Layby had shown a zest for knowledge. The unknown, the distant and the fantastic intrigued Sarita, and that curious glimmer held fast in her eyes as she looked at the jet's holo.

[Deleted]

This time the man laughed. He leaned companionably towards her, as if divulging a secret.

“I’ll be perfectly honest with you,” he murmured. “It’s not significantly different from what you listen to here on Earth. Yes, the ‘instruments’ are different and yes, we are technically capable of synthesizing a far broader range of notes, chords, and melodies, than you are - but with few exceptions I find that our collective lack of imagination and overall state of cultural stagnation had led us to produce far less ambitious work as a whole.”

Satisfied, he leaned back again. His voice rose back into a conversational tone as he walked.

“We had everything from great symphonies and suites to marches and shock bands once,” he said. “My memory of that time is a little dim, but if I remember correctly I was more enamoured with alien music myself - songs from other worlds. It was different, explorative, exotic. I’m a great fan of what I’ve heard on Earth so far. Well, the majority of it. There are some genres here I struggle to appreciate.”

He made a mild face. “That’s why I would be very grateful if you would lend me your musical ear. I’m always delighted to be introduced to a sound I’ve never heard before. If you don’t mind me dipping into your song library, I’d be glad for the opportunity to rummage through the playlists of someone who actually plays music for a living, and benefit from their expertise.”

The man hesitated.

“And I’ll be honest again: I never did like Jefferson Starship. It got a little too pop for my liking. I prefer the older folk slash psychedelic rock sound of Airplane. Not to mention Grace Slick’s vocals.”

[Deleted]

He made a mild face. “That’s why I would be very grateful if you would lend me your musical ear. I’m always delighted to be introduced to a sound I’ve never heard before. If you don’t mind me dipping into your song library, I’d be glad for the opportunity to rummage through the playlists of someone who actually plays music for a living, and benefit from their expertise.”

"My friend, play away," said Sarita, sounding a mix of flattered and playful. "My tunes are your tunes. It's not like I've got anything better to do with it, and it's kind of sitting around with how much I use YouTube. Don't be surprised if you pop in one day and there's, like...forty new songs because I finally found a place that will let me get on the damn thing."

The man hesitated.

“And I’ll be honest again: I never did like Jefferson Starship. It got a little too pop for my liking. I prefer the older folk slash psychedelic rock sound of Airplane. Not to mention Grace Slick’s vocals.”

"I don't like them either, heh," said the busker, snorting and rolling her eyes. "I hopped on a tour bus with this indie band for a week once...think they were called 'Weedbusters' or something like that. They were terrible, and to top it off, they did Jefferson Starship all. The. Time. I spent four days cleaning puke from the inside of the bus, while they had their albums on repeat, and their 'practise' was singing along while as wasted as Justin Bieber's money."

Sarita shook her head. "I never listened to Starship after that. In fact, I gave the CD they gave me to a Salvation Army shop because I thought it would do more good there. In retrospect, though, it's probably more because they ripped off the album art of Airplane, and I thought the thing would sell quick for the poor store owners.

"Oh, did you try Stan Rogers, too? Acapella, lots of drinking song material. Northwest Passage reminds me a lot of you, and when we're flying over the mountains. I think you'd like it, and it's great fun to sing at a bar. Get the right people together, and it's absolutely beautiful. Like, 'flying-through-a-sunset-after-a-rainstorm' beautiful."

[Deleted]

“Stan Rogers,” said the man.

He thought it over, absently rubbing one side of his face. “Isn’t he a Canadian folk singer? I’m afraid I don’t know his music. I haven’t heard it, I should say. I like folk in general, along with bluegrass, but I’ll admit that I’m not that familiar with many performers. I think the last I got into were the Avett Brothers. A friend introduced me to their music a while back. It’s very good. I like it.”

He tensed slightly. But the moment passed swiftly, and he gave Sarita a friendly sideways glance.

“You’re rather fond of folk and bluegrass yourself, aren't you?” he said. “The humble scenes it describes - the landscape, the slice of common day life - the earthiness of it - it appeals to you?”

[Deleted]

The tension didn't go unnoticed. I wonder if that friend was Julie or Dart, the singer mused, but she said and showed nothing. Instead, she replied, "Yes, it does. I will admit, I binged on pop tunes, and Madonna and Britney Spears in my youth — I went through a bit of a glamour phase — but as I grew older, I...I don't know."

She looked forward, thoughtful.

"It's recycled. There is a formula and style that you hear in so many songs, and it sells. Even country can get dirty and sexist nowadays, to the point of someone writing a song to call it out with. These are the stories of places and people, either written entirely by the singer, or recorded and handed down from generation to generation. This is more of a country song I'm gonna talk about — I know that sounds hypocritical with my last point — but take the Cup Song, for example."

She held up a finger, looking back at the jet. "That wasn't written by Anna Kendrick, or the writers of Pitch Perfect. It was written by A.P. Carter, a member of The Carter Family, and recorded in the 1930's. Someone on YouTube made their own cover, and added a percussion based on cups. Soon everyone was doing it, and the meme caught on with Hollywood. This isn't something by Key-sha, or whatever her name is, that was massively popular — this was a Depression-era piece, made by a relatively obscure artist."

The singer sighed. "Point is, before pop, before jazz and blues, before classical, there was someone who sat on a stump and just sang. They looked at the fields and forests around them, and they sang about what they saw. They sang about how they felt. It could have been about love, it could have been about famine, it could have been about friends and it could have been about war. It wasn't music made to sell, it was just...music. The song of the soul, of people's life experiences."

There was a moment of passing silence, and Sarita smiled a little. "Hmph. Listen to me, rambling on and on like I am. I could swear I was far more elegant of speech five minutes ago."

[Deleted]

The man did not say a word as Sarita spoke. He listened solemnly, his attention rapt. It was clear that he hung on every word.

“Don’t feel sorry for speaking at length upon a subject that you feel strongly about,” he said. He smiled. “Personally, I take great comfort in the knowledge that people can still find something to get passionate about, to pour their heart and intelligence into. So by all means, talk all you wish about your musical interests. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”

He paused, his expression distant. Wistful. “If anything, it makes me wish I knew a little more about music. I know what I like, but that is the extent of my musical aptitude. I’ve never studied it, never played. But I enjoy listening to it - for the same reason I like listening to people talk, I suppose. It is a reflection of life, and a soul’s journey through it. It is, at heart, a story. And I find stories very interesting. And - oh.”

The man came to a stop on the sidewalk. Ahead of them was a small sandwich shop, a glass-fronted little café with a green awning overhead and flower baskets hanging at the door. Through the big glass windows rows of tables could be seen.

He shifted the strap of his camera a little higher up his shoulder and gestured to the door.

“This is it,” he said. “Shall we continue this discussion inside?”

[Deleted]

So he liked stories too, and something about those stories made him...sad. Was he lonely? Was this his way of telling Sarita that he, too, had walked a lonesome path?

A familiar pang lanced through Sarita's heart. The jet's holo gestured at the entrance to the cafe, and the singer nodded in return. "Yes, I think that would be a lovely proposition. After you."

The place was beautiful. Light, European-esque decorations and hanging flowers gave a simplistic-yet-elegant feel, and Sarita's eyes twinkled. The two had only travelled for a couple of short-seeming weeks, but the place was somewhere she definitely would visit frequently. Her eyes gave Deuce a sly look, a knowing grin spreading across her face — words were not needed to get her point across. She was impressed, and rather appreciative of the jet's tastes and choices. For all his obnoxious quirks and tendencies, he did listen, and he knew what people liked.

Once a suitable spot was picked, Sarita folded her hands together, resting her elbows on the long, gleaming-black table. Her chin laying against the laced fingers, the songstress gave her travelling partner an inquisitive look. "You were saying, D, that you liked stories, were you not? If that's the case, I have a proposition for you."

The woman leaned forward.

"I'd like to learn more about your home, if you are comfortable speaking of it. If not that, then your travels, perhaps. We do not have to discuss it here, as I figure it is something intensely personal to you."

Whether or not that was code for something was up for Deuce to decide.

"In return, I can tell you of Earth, and of places I have been. I have already discussed a few things with you, but if you are as curious as you make yourself out to be, perhaps I can even teach you a few things. Though you are...limited, in some of your means, there are things you can experience that I certainly think you would enjoy. Music included, if you don't mind me making a few calls in the indie scene."

[Deleted]

The man sat across from Sarita. He laid his hat on the table, and his folded sunglasses beside them a moment later. He had dark hair and steel-blue eyes, lined with age and striped with small, long healed scars.

“Teach me a few things?” he said.

He regarded her in surprise as he swung the camera off his shoulder and hung it from the back of his seat.

“Yes, I suppose that seems fair,” he said. “A fair cultural trade, shall we call it. I’d be happy to discuss more of my home, or what I remember of it. I did leave a long time ago. In exchange-“

There was a faint twinkle in his eye as he rested his hands in front of him and knit his fingers together. “In exchange, I’d be delighted to hear more about E- your home. I am quite curious - and, as I mentioned, I do enjoy stories. I wouldn’t mind learning of a few of this country’s unique experiences. And don’t worry about the limitations of my means.”

He reached into one of the breast pockets of the photo vest and withdrew a card. He laid it on the table and slid it across to her using his fingertips.

“I somehow manage,” he said. “And yes, before you ask, it’s real. Go ahead. Get whatever you’d like to eat. Just a bottle of water for me, thanks, if you would be so kind.”

It was a credit card. And if Sarita touched it -

- It felt real.

D winked.

[Deleted]

Such a face could tell a story. Sarita's lips pursed at the scars, long-ago fissures in the cracked surface of a beaten face. His eyes were steely, like his alt, but she was surprised that his hair was darker than she thought. With all the pale tones in his colour scheme, she was expecting a blond.

Her eyes were full of stars, how they glimmered. Though her composure on the outside was of polite quiet, it was her irises and pupils that burned like a supernova about to go. So many questions lingered on her tongue, wanting to fight their way out of her mouth, into the air. A place like this cafe was restricting — oh, the things she wanted to dig deep into — but that was fine. Another time would be found for subjects that couldn't be discussed publicly, when Deuce wasn't away or distracted with business.

When her fingers reached for the credit card, she let them linger. The plastic didn't register at first, but when it did, it was slightly warm. It felt like it had been resting in someone's pocket, tucked away between pieces of fabric until it was time to be used. The singer held the card up between her thumb and a couple of fingers, a smile creeping across her face.

A credit card for a password. An iTunes account for a friendly meal.

"A bottle of water it is then, D," said the songstress.

---

A freshly-made panini with tomatoes, bacon and three different cheeses (all soy-based) was the house special that day. Sarita waited for it to cool — she wasn't fond of too-hot sandwiches — before nibbling delicately at the crust. There was a moment where she leaned too far forward, as if trying to shield her meal, but she eased back up as if the gesture was for better inspection. The woman approved wholeheartedly of the place's cooking, and made a note to come back there again.

"So," Sarita began, putting her sandwich down after a swallow and a wipe of the lips. Her used napkin was crumpled and placed beside a small cup of green tea. "I feel it's only fair that you ask a question first. Where would you like to start?"

[Deleted]

The man sat back in his seat. He seemed to find a simple pleasure in watching the other patrons of the shop as they made their orders at the counter, or sat at their tables and talked. He had twisted open the cap of his water bottle but merely toyed with it. His reasons for not drinking were obvious, but being able to hold it as she sat and ate did not make him stand out as much as if he had nothing in front of him.

His manner was composed. The avatar showed none of the robot’s usual verve. Whether it was due to a pensive mood or whether he was merely playing the role of a melancholy looking middle-aged man was up in the air.

He smiled when she spoke.

“That’s a good question,” he said.

The man set down his water bottle and gazed off in thought.

“I have a lot of things I’d like to learn about,” he admitted. “But let’s start with something a little more personal, if you don’t mind. What did you do before you became a musician? Did you go to college or university for a different career? Or did you go straight into music as a young girl?”

[Deleted]

"I have been singing and performing since I was a girl," Sarita said. "It started, admittedly, with the child pageant scene — I travelled around and participated up until my late teen years. It led me to briefly consider performing in musicals, and maybe even a shot on Broadway, but I considered musical theatre a bit over-the-top after a few years. From there, I decided to dive headfirst into indie folk, and here I am now."

She made a display of twirling her open palms as she spoke, a gesture reminiscent of cupping and releasing water.

"And yes, I do have a college education. Mostly in the arts, but I did try my hand at a history course or two. Found it dreadfully boring, though, and decided to take the obvious for a Major. I could have gone farther, I think, but I'm rather satisfied with where I left off — what I needed was experience. The open road provides plenty of it."

The singer folded her hands back together.

"Can't really remember if I did anything before that. Most of my life has been wrapped up in playing and practising, so that's about the extent of that, I suppose."

[Deleted]

The man nodded.

"It's good that you had the chance to follow what interested you," he said. "Even if your path wandered a little along the way. Not many people get that opportunity - or perhaps it is more accurate to say, not many people pursue it."

He smiled. "And that history course you mentioned - it may have been a little boring, but perhaps in comparison it also helped to illuminate the fact that music was the road you truly wanted to take. I've always thought it doesn't hurt to wander a little to your final goal. They say that life is about the journey rather than the destination, but I like to think that you simply learn more through trial and experience when you take an indirect route rather than that straightest path."

He thought a little, rolling the water bottle absently between his palms as he did so. "It may seem strange to you, but back on - back home, for a very long time your profession was dictated for you by factors beyond your control. If you were bui- born to be a construction worker, then you were a construction worker. If you were born to be an atmospheric scientist, then you were an atmospheric scientist. Arguing against your function invoked harsh penalties. Repercussions. So many people didn't. Others did, and that eventually spiralled into conflict."

The man sighed. "The aftershocks of that conflict are still being felt today."

[Deleted]

The man sighed. "The aftershocks of that conflict are still being felt today."

"The fighting," said Sarita, nodding. "Mr. Lays — " (their name in conversation for Layby) " — told me a great deal of it, but he...held back, if that's the right term for it. Some things were too personal for him to talk about, and I didn't push him. You don't do that to a veteran of any conflict, here or elsewhere."

She hadn't expected him to open up about Cybertron. He'd given a few snippets of info here and there, even touching on the meaning of a few glyphs, but he'd be on his way before long. The woman had listened with rapt attention to him, echoing in kind the respectful ear he had given her. Now it was her turn to respond, and it was clear she was choosing her reply carefully, ever wanting to avoid subjects most taboo.

The songstress decided that asking if the war caused him to leave was one of them. Instead, she said to her companion, "I have heard of something similar in India. A caste system, if you will, so ingrained that even Gandhi said that the second-caste citizens were lesser human beings. Granted, I was told this by a travelling hippie who was buzzed on half-a-dozen questionable substances, and I haven't had the chance to further research that fact. Regardless, I consider such acts as a crime against humanity, and their rights in general."

Sarita paused.

"Or, er...whatever the equivalent of 'humanity' may be in your country's home language. I'm afraid I never asked Mr. Lays what that might be. I suppose something similar occurred with human rights in America — about 40 or so years ago, the black population of the U.S. marched for the right to be recognized as equal. Hundreds of years before, their ancestors had been kidnapped and brought here from Africa, to work endless hours on plantations and other such places to fuel the growing American economy. Even when slavery was outlawed, old beliefs still run deep, and today there is tension in some parts despite recognized equality in the law."

Sarita wrinkled her nose, and took a few bites out of her sandwich.

"And I may be biased saying this, for obvious reasons, but I don't think many people would be complaining about immigration if they really saw what's going on in Mexico."

[Deleted]

"Interestingly, many of my kind who fled the war and now roam through space face similar discriminations today," said the man.

A small wry smile crossed his lips as he glanced casually about them. He leaned forward onto his forearms and lowered his voice. "Admittedly, many of those discriminations are justified. While most Neutrals are simply battle-worn travellers in search of work and shelter, they cannot deny that they are also part of a species with a very long and convoluted history of empirical conquest and intense internal violence. And can transform into literal vehicles of destruction. Guns in their arms and everything. If one of them showed up in my customs office I'd be staring at them long and hard while reaching under my desk for the big red 'probe' button myself."

He paused. "And frankly, some Neutrals are assholes. All it takes are a few bad eggs to spoil it for the rest. So it goes. But to get back on track…"

The man leaned back in his seat and folded his hands together in front of him.

"Little of our caste system remains today," he said. "I think you'd be hard-pressed to find an open advocate for it who would not grudgingly add some kind of modifying 'if' or 'but' clause to the original old laws. More, it's its underlying spirit of superiority, manipulative conformity, and unsubstantiated arrogance that has survived into the present day. Best exemplified by many of the 'Con beliefs, ironically enough."

He chuckled. "Bet the Big M didn't see that coming back in his humbler days. Anyway, these days our population has been reduced to the point of near extinction. No formalized social system can survive that kind of gutting. Everything had collapsed long before the Exodus occurred. So now we're veritable scavengers, rummaging through the skeletonized remains of our old home and abandoned philosophies for something to cling to and rebuild from. Ha! Good luck with that, I say."