SEED: A Hard Science Fiction Novel about Survival, Colonization, and Leadership Growth by Matthew G. Dick

Author:Matthew G. Dick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: VOIGHT-KAMPFF PUBLISHING, LLC
Published: 2020-07-20T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 15

“Can we do rock band tonight, Mr. Burke?” Em asks. “Tomorrow is my birthday and it would be so much fun if we can play tonight!” The idea of having fun seems to have washed away Em’s earlier upset mood about the Orcs.

The kids love, I mean love me playing music from my speakers. The fact that we don’t have instruments or even electricity doesn’t stop them from enjoying playing music. Rock band is what we call the kids air-guitaring and playing other makeshift instruments while I play music from my speakers. I have to oblige. Emma is talking with me again, which is a good sign. I should keep the positivity going with her. Plus, I am in a great mood having finally caught my garden-eating monsters. We’re sitting around the bonfire in the middle of the village with firelight flickering against all the village buildings and the M-TOG behind us.

Em has a stick with a hemp rope shoulder strap for her lead guitar. Aden has several rugbynut buckets laid out into a drum kit on the ground and two sticks to hit them with. Sophie and Ava have their own stick guitars like Em, just smaller. Chase has one rugbynut bucket to beat on. Apparently, no one wants to be a bass player. When I play the music from my speakers, they put on the best rock show on the planet. And I am their audience.

They know all the headbanger songs that I like. AC/DC, Nirvana, Van Halen, Pearl Jam. Rock, punk, grunge, metal—we do it all. All the musicians were long dead before I was even born. But they were still around when my dad was a kid. He liked them, so I like them too. Now my kids like them. He did another thing to bring me up right. He introduced me to great music.

“Mr. Burke, play our favorite song!” Aden yells out.

“Right on!” COMMAND LOAD PLAY “Time Bomb” by Rancid. A pumping punk guitar riff plays out and the kids start to thrash with their wooden instruments. I love punk rock dancing in my Space Yeti body. I can’t headbang given that I don’t have a neck, but that just means I have to get my whole body into it. When the chorus kicks in, all the kids yell it out together.

I don’t have a black coat. Or white shoes. No black hat or a Cadillac. But I am a time bomb. I loved the song as much as the kids, but it reminds me of the nuclear HE-TEG ticking time bomb in my chest. I know my end. But I need to make sure these kids are set up well to inherent Prasares before I go.

After a few more rounds of songs, the kids are finally tired out. We sit and talk to finish out the night.

“Something is wrong with my neck,” Aden says. “It feels prickly on the back of my neck. I have shivers. What is that?”

“That’s the chills you get when you hear mind-blowing music,” I say.

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