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Music for Evenings

Frettchens's Therapy sessions

27th July 2071

[Recording Session, Session ID SEA#0008]

The camera sits on top of a wooden handrail and after some exposure adjustments focuses on Frettchen, sitting on a porch that has seen better days. Bright curtains of sunlight fall through the holes in a decaying awning and brawling dust particles, stopped and reflected in flaring patches by the elf’s bare chrome legs.
She has specks of paint on her face and hands, her hair is a tousled mess of green, but she smiles and absently strums on an old electric guitar.
“Good morning, Miss Aidee. Would you… like to put on some pants before we start the session?”, her shrink greets Frettchen.
“Huh? Oh, hey Doc. bootin’ fast toda. Nah, I mean, it’s not as if these get cold or anything, right?”, she answers, flicking against the metal legs with a soft ‘Ping’. Both, she and the doctor take some notes, the old fashioned way, on paper. She looks up first. “What’s a good rhyme for Flak?”, she asks and the psychiatrist ponders.
“How about…”, he starts but gets interrupted.
“No, wait, I got it…”
She scribbles down more notes on the worn out paper, takes one more look at it, then hammers away with some simple chords.
“Like slag, we’re a little bit of everything,
like flak, we’re a little bit of everything,
Can’t count the shots, just make them count,
We’ll yell it out with every single round,
But yell it out, before it kills you now,
take my word, it may sound absurd,
we’re both fucked up and iiiit works!“
Frettchen grimaces and puts the guitar away, gently resting it against the wall. “Whaddaya think, Doc?”
The projection stares at her for a few seconds. “Well, it’s good to see that you have picked up a hobby.”
“Hey, fuck you, I’ve made music for decades… Sorry, language, I know…”
Reassessing the quality of what he just heard, the doctor seems bewildered. “Really? That is… surprising.” He takes down some more notes.
“I’m a drummer, okay? Anyway, it’s a lovesong… For my husband. Look what he did to me… Turned me into a friggin songwriter!”, she sighs, happiness carried by her breath. “He got us this house here, you know? A few patches here and there, some furniture and it’ll be pretty comfy. We had a house like this before, but for some reason it burned down…”
“Do you consider settling down in Seattle?”
“Yeah… I mean, that’s what he asked too. Was a weird moment, with all the possibilities speeding through my head and all the implications. Thing is, usually I’d be terrified to get bored after a few months. A year, tops. But with him? Can’t even imagine a lack of fun. Life has rarely been so good and exciting!”
The doctor puts his notepad away and takes off his glasses, cleaning them with the sleeve of his tweed jacket.
“I am very glad to hear that, Miss Aidee. Frankly, ever since you chose to go to Seattle, your condition has vastly improved, give or take a few complications, but we will iron those out in time. My most honest, sincere advice: keep that man close and do not let go off him ever again. I have the feeling he will keep the both of us reasonably sane.”
“Heh, maybe you’re right… Oh, speaking of which… My car tried to kill me! She’s some sort of fuckin’ nanotech, I think and really came at me a few days ago.”, Frettchen says casually and pats a few new dents on her armored limbs. “We talked it out, though. She really is a vindictive bitch…”
“Doesn’t that… Worry you? I hope my advice was not the cause for your… Inconvenience.” In the distance, the sound of a motorcycle draws closer.
“Nah, I screwed that one up myself, wasn’t your fault!”
She waves at someone behind the camera and shouts “Awww, my hero!” with a happy smirk on her face. “Sorry, Doc, Gotta run, there comes my handsome husband with bagels!”


music_for_evenings.txt · Last modified: 2017/12/21 13:42 by bookscorpion