Chapter 3: This existence is wrong

A young man had been watching the proceedings, leaning against one of the school's white-washed pillars. He looked sullen and completely removed from everything that was going on.

As the song finished, he moved towards the steps and challenged the other kids, "hey you!"

They turned and returned the challenged as one, "Yeah! What?"

"You're all clones! Ga Ga sheep!"

"Talk to the hand!"

The leather-clad stranger was clearly annoyed, wound-up tight like a spring even.

"Fools…. Morons…." he screamed, "Don't you understand you're all slaves?"

"Whatever, looser!"

And with that they left, clearly disgusted by the other man's actions.

This man was Galileo. It was his own name, chosen against the rules. He was a rebel, destined to be an outcast if he didn't change his ways. No-one was sure where those ways came from, brought up as he had been by Globalsoft.

Like all registered residents of Planet Mall, Galileo's life had begun in the communal nursery. Here all his needs had been met by Androgynous Artificially Created Life Forms. He had learnt routine amidst the sound of wall-to-wall Ga Ga tunes.

By the time he was three he had started Virtual Junior School. It was then that his dreams had started. It was unusual for Ga Ga Kids to have dreams, their lives fulfilled their dreams and they had little time for such imaginative things, However, for Galileo they were increasingly common.

The first had been one of the clearest. In it he had seen a man in a cage of light, dressed all in white apart from a red arrow across his chest. He appeared to be writhing in pain as several early model Androgynous Artificially Created Life Forms stalked around him. Then 3 other men had appeared and approached the cage. They placed their hands on the bars and they disappeared. Now free, the man within set about wrecking the place, smashing control panels. Galileo would never forget the panic on the life-forms' faces.

A teacher approached Galileo, clearly concerned that he was not joining in the festivities.

"Hey mate" she enthused, "come on, go celebrate! Your life is just beginning!"

"Good!" he replied. However he was clearly worried about his stance. This was demonstrated by his stammer, "The s-sooner it begins the sooner it's over with"

The teacher was confused, she couldn't understand why anyone would feel that way.

"But you have so much potential" she argued. "You could get a job with any division of GlobalSoft you choose. How about music programming?"

"I don't want to programme music" he replied, adrenaline powering his words, "I want to make music. Real music. My own music"

As he said these words the teacher shuddered, suddenly scared. She had never heard such radical (and illegal) thoughts before. She just hoped she could change his attitude before anyone else got wind of it.

"Hey! Mate, cool it" she warned. Checking around to make sure she was not being heard, she continued, "Now listen www/gordonthejones'."

Galileo interrupted, "My name is Galileo Figaro!"

"Nobody is called Galileo Figaro. Where on Planet Mall did you come up with that?"

It was Galileo's turn to be scared now. He suddenly became unsure of his words once more; he spoke as if to convince himself that what he said was true. "I found it. In a dream. I have dreams you see."

His voice became higher and the words faster, "And I hear noises, screeching, thudding, b-banging noises. And words, words drop into my head, too many words. Help! I need somebody. Help! Not just anybody."

The teacher tried to reassure him, even if that means stretching the truth a little, "I understand. I feel your pain. But come on mate! You live in a perfect world. What more could you possibly want?"

"I want to break free!" came the reply.

Galileo wanted to break free from the lies of GlobalSoft. He wasn't sure why, but something told him that the system was built on a multitude of them. It was so proud of itself, so certain that it's way was the right one- the only one in fact. But he knew differently. He had seen a glimpse of something different and, despite being told all his life that it was wrong, it appealed to him.

To be honest he'd fallen in love with doing things his own way. Somehow it seemed more real and less artificial. It was almost as if this was the way things really should be.

Yes, he knew that made him different. However, it wasn't different in the horrible way that GlobalSoft taught; it was a different that meant unique and special. Not only that, but he felt he had to be different- it was his destiny.

But such a thought made him scared. He was suggesting walking out GlobalSoft's door and into a completely new world. He didn't know what he would find out there, his dreams were misty and imprecise in that respect. Maybe it would be safer to just do as he was told.

No! His current existence was wrong! There was no hope left on Planet Mall and hope was something he had longer for ever since his dreams had given him a glimpse of it- he might even go as far as saying it was his birthright.

He wished he had someone to share this birthright with, but he knew he was destined to go it alone. He just wished people would understand this and let him doing things his own way. Just leave him to break free.

Lost in his thoughts and confused by anger, Galileo didn't notice the descending lights of the police laser cell until it was too late. They froze him, cut him off from the world.

Oblivious to the boy's notice, his teacher was now joined by Khashoggi. Khashoggi stared at him, a look of pure hatred on his face. He turned to the teacher, who was watching him with interest.

"You say this boy wants to make his own music?"

"Yes" she replied, with a look of distain, "the little freak says he hears it in his dreams"

"He is aware that music, other than that programmed by GlobalSoft Corporation, is illegal? The act of an individual?"

"Of course, but he doesn't care"

Like all teachers at Virtual High, Galileo's teacher had been assigned the task of making sure that all her students followed GlobalSoft's instructions. This included monitoring and reporting so-called 'individuals'. She would then report them to the secret police should they fail to respond to her tutoring.

"Has he ever tried to make an instrument?" Khashoggi asked (this had been a sign of true rebellion ever since they were banned in 2046).

"Once" the teacher replied, "in Technical Studies, he was caught trying to stretch plastic string across an empty lunch box"

"Did he-" (Khashoggi could hardly bring himself to utter the words" "pluck it?"

"Yes" the teacher exclaimed, "but he claimed he did not know why"

Khashoggi seemed pleasantly surprised by this last statement. Finally, he had something to investigate. And an unsuspecting youth was always the best, the easiest to get information from. Maybe he could even use him as a spy.

He turned back to the teacher, "So…. An ignorant plucker! I think I shall have to talk to this boy!"