Some people are born with an anacrusis. They end with one less beat. A perfect circle, if you will.
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A melodic minor scale
6/8 | 4/4 | 2/2 | 1/2 | 2/4
Six days ago, I had finally returned from the Mariachi jail complex that I had been trapped in for a year. The Mariachans were shrouded in secrecy for a reason, and that was because everything was only shared on a need to know basis. News of my unit's death travelled with me. I had had no idea of the state of Theme at the time of my return, and travelled nervously. At any time the various forms of transport I had been given could be attacked by either Mariachan or Thematic soldiers, and I had had more than enough of gunfire and blood. When I returned to the capital of Theme, Glissando, the government was waiting for me, with a distinct lack of welcome. I was bustled into an official car and taken off to the government bunkers straight away. When there, I was basically interrogated for information on the Mariachi command structure and war intentions, but I had nothing to tell them. I only really knew how to operate a Discord launcher and I could tell them the precise dimensions of my cell, but how was I to know what a Mariachan Seargent-General was meant to look like? The officials were disappointed, I was exhausted, and they relieved me of duty two days later. An honourable discharge, which apparently meant the nearest hotel, which was in Berceuse, 1400 k's from home.
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I picked up the lost sock from under the crappy hotel bed. That was all my stuff found; finally I could leave the hotel and head home. I dumped the sock in my suitcase and sat on the bed, which creaked in complaint. My old housemate Will was happy to let me come back for a while until I could get a job, and then we would sort things out from there. I wasn't sure how easy it would be to get used to being able to relax and get a normal job again, after all the things that had happened in the last two years. I supposed I would just have to see.
I checked my battered old watch for the time. It was 8:25, which left a nice amount of time for me to get to the train station for the 9am train. I hauled myself off the bed, picked up my suitcase and made my way down to reception. The grizzled old receptionist came into view as I approached.
'What can I get you?' he asked, voice muffled by the glass screen, and the fact he was looking at a crossword instead of me. I reached into my pocket for the room key and a few crumpled notes, which he took.
'It's impromptu,' I said, and he looked up in surprise before scribbling the word into its place in the crossword.
'I hope you enjoyed your stay,' he said, sounding fully aware of the state of the hotel as I walked onto the streets. The sound of people filled my ears once again, a strange mix of all the different people living in Berceuse. The electronic and occasionally orchestral mixes of the kids and adults moving through the city was incredible after gunfire and silence. I smiled. Thank god I was back.
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I had always wondered how the many different timings and pitches of individual music never clashed with society. If you walked through the street it would be an unreproducible harmony of incredible proportions. There was nothing like it. Perhaps it was the effect of society on children. You could hear a 6/8 and a 12/4 talking, but the duet never sounded grating. Perhaps your music subtly changed when you were around different people, or everyone was stuck in this rut where there wasn't any great musical difference anymore. You grew up trying to fit in, and perhaps your music reflected that. Being a 3/4 didn't make it too difficult for me to stay in time with others, but it must be difficult for people who were 10/2 or 12/6 to match themselves up, even subconsciously, as a child. Just a natural mystery, I suppose.
I arrived at the station ten minutes early for the train, so I bought my ticket and took a seat on one of the platform benches, suitcase neatly placed beneath. My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I picked it up. It was a text from Will.
ETA was all it said. I typed back 10pm and put my phone away again. I wasn't really one for essay texts. A distant whistle signalled the train's imminent arrival, so I stood, holding my bag on the edge of the platform. The crowd began to jostle as last minute passengers rushed onto the platform, before hurriedly boarding the train.
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The train arrived exactly on time, whistling steam from the wheels as we slowed to a halt at the platform. I dragged my bag off and began searching music for Will, until I heard a cry.
'Good to see you again,' Will greeted me with a grin, calloused hand extended. I completed the gesture, and walked beside him as we left the platform.
'We heard the news,' he said. 'Everyone was terrified that you were dead. The lack of information was the worst thing, I think.'
'I'll make sure they know to improve their personal correspondence in the next war,' I said drily. 'I don't think the government knew either. The Mariachans don't really let information out.'
I ended it on a final note. Will glanced at me.
'Sorry,' he said, leading me into the dimly lit car park. We searched for his ute for a bit, and when we finally found it I tied my suitcase into the tray.
'Jump in,' he invited, and I got into the passenger seat. It was dark, but the changes to the town were obvious. There were more trees, more lights, a radio tower and everything seemed more crowded. Tense. But it was mesmerising to see the fields again. Canola was growing well and the wheat definitely was booming. If the war came here, everyone would be okay for a while, at least.
'So, uh… when did you get back?' Will asked. His driving skills were at least twelve times better than mine. By which I mean he hadn't driven off the road yet.
'Tuesday, unless you mean when I was released into the public. That was about Friday.'
'Oh.'
I left the conversation before he could delve deeper, and went to sleep. I slept for the rest of the drive.
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I woke up suddenly, feeling like I'd just woken up from a nightmare. Which I probably had, but I couldn't remember anything. Looking around, which was difficult because my face was mushed into a solid surface, apparently I had slept on the floor. That explained the face thing. I could see my clothes scattered around, on the bed, hanging off the cupboard, thrown over the door… I was almost impressed, except I was too confused. What the hell had I been doing when I got here? I stood up and began gathering the clothes, putting them into an untidy pile in the corner. The room was pretty bare, just the bed, the cupboard and a little desk. It was my old room. I was at Will's. It was now that a splitting headache decided to make itself known. So. Order one, find Will and the Panadol. Order two, get some breakfast.
Will was waiting in the kitchen, eating his own breakfast of scrambled eggs and gin. I decided not to question his culinary choices at that time, and just ask for the location of the needed items. He vaguely gestured towards the various cupboards next to the sink, so that's where I went. Inside were some loaves of bread, spreads, snacks and thankfully, painkillers. I grabbed a random assortment of foods and a couple pills and began eating. Toast with cheese. Well done Will.
'I'm going out to get the vet. Some of the sheep are acting up,' Will said, taking a sip of juice. I nodded.
'I'll call if I need anything,' I said. Will grabbed his jacket from the hook next to the door and I heard the lock click behind him.
Suddenly there was a noticeable tremor in the ground, and my ears popped. Before everything went silent, I heard a scream from outside. I pushed my chair back and went to the window. No one was there, not that I could hear. Will's car was still there, rolling slightly down the slant of the driveway. Something smashed into my back- the kitchen bench met my stomach, and I fell to the ground winded. Is this discord? I wondered. How ironic, to be hit with a discord blast after finally coming home.
Someone was standing in front of me. Because of my sudden deafness, I couldn't tell if they were male or female, or anything about what they looked like. I cursed evolution for making us rely on music for identification. I could have used the ability to remember faces and bodies at that time. I felt them nudge my foot, and a piece of paper drifted to the ground beside me.
Are you Prisoner X-5839? It asked. I nodded. That was my old prisoner number, so I assumed the X meant freed. But Mariachans in Theme? What was going on, and how had they gotten past the border patrols?
'Did you hurt Will?' I think I said. I couldn't even hear myself.
Your friend is fine. We have been told to inform you that you were lucky to be set free. Interfere any more and expect death.
'I have not interfered at all!' I stated, confused. The boot came down on my arm, and I felt something snap, with a sharp and forceful jab of agony. I couldn't hear my own cry of pain. Whoever it was retreated and left me slumped against the kitchen bench, unconsciousness taking over slowly.