Here's To The Future
Ooh, can't stand. Or at least it's difficult. But by now I think I've lost the flutterby. Where did they go? The guy and girl that is, and Doodleypop. And why didn't they take me? I could've been useful. Well, not really if I can't stand, but the potential is there. I feel different, like my inhibitions are returning, like I'm gaining control of my limbs and thoughts. Like I no longer think scattered, irrelevant and disconnected thoughts with no logic. And I can think rationally, not just in terms of emotion. I'm still spinning though – literally, a little haphazardly but, I'm upright.
Then, there's a hard to place sound, I know it's important and that I know it like it's ingrained in my soul. Everything's changing as I turn around. But I'm no longer totally out of control. It's a kind of thumping or stamping beat, followed by claps. Stamp stamp clap, stamp stamp clap. Thud thud clap, thud thud clap. A reverberating, echoing beat.
It seems the others can hear it too, they're all sobering up as it were. Then, there's a momentary blip – not in the beat, in something else. I don't know what though. The others have heard it too, and they're following the sound. Well, I'm not being left behind, even if I am following total strangers in a zombie like state to I don't know where, but it can't be worse than this dump.
The beat is stronger now, reiterated by a loud noise, loud but nice. I can place that previous noise now, it was similar to this one, except this one is in tune, and works. Then I find I know the people I'm following, and they know each other, and they know me. They're the Bohemians. We are the Bohemians. The ones who broke free and took a chance. Fought for freedom and liberty.
We're walking, doggedly following the trail, all through a barren wasteland that I now recognize as the Bohemian Land, the edge of what the GaGas would class as 'civilisation'. Then, we're all simultaneously strengthened and weakened. Like people know our message, and are following it, but are prevented by some invisible oppressive force. Then, a moment later, the force is gone. We're all strengthened and I can remember, remember everything this time though. My first thought is of Brit. I spin around, searching the faces, but he isn't there. So it was true, he is dead. Dead and gone from me. Never to return.
The beat is strengthening with every step I take, as am I. And I can hear a voice, which I recognize as Galileo. I can't see him, but we can all hear him – he seems to be having the time of his life. 'Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise, playing in the street, gonna be a big man some day, you got mud on your face, you big disgrace, kicking your can all over the place.'
It all takes me back to when I first saw Brit at the game. He had mud on his face, he'd fallen over bless him. He'd just been a boy playing in the street, he was a big man now. It was the crowd making the noise, not Brit – they were screaming. He'd disgraced himself by falling. Then the next time I saw him, while he was walking along with his date. She tossed her soup away all over my clean laundry, later he told me he'd hated the whole evening; she'd loved it but hadn't been best pleased when he started kicking a can on the way home.
It hurts so much to remember, the pain has returned, but my mind is hazy. I can remember him dying, being taken to Globalsoft HQ, and Khashoggi dancing around singing. Then nothing – if I think really hard I can remember fragments – falling over, demanding drink off of someone, but not much until the beat and 'waking up' with the Bohemians on my way here.
The force of the beat is so strong now, we are almost propelled the final distance, but are barred. Locked gates bar our way, but Scaramouche and Pop are there. She shows us an instrument – a real instrument, none of our wood and wire concoctions from before. A proper instrument. Pop breaks the lock, and we surge through and sing. Then I realize that what we are singing is where the beat is coming from.
We will, we will rock you
We
will, we will rock you
Then Galileo starts singing again, 'Buddy, you're a young man, hard man, shouting in the street, gonna take on the world some day, you got blood on your face, you big disgrace, waving your banner all over the place.'
It's almost as though he's telling Brit's life story. We're back at the moment before we met Scaramouche and Galileo. It wasn't all that long ago in reality. He was a young man, a hard man – or at least he gave that impression. He was shouting, telling me that we were gonna take on the world, that we were getting it all. I worried about him getting hurt, making a disgrace of himself, not that he could ever have done that in the eyes of the Bohemians. Or me. He could never disgrace himself to me. Then we ran along with Galileo and Scaramouche down to the Heartbreak, he was waving his banner – cheering. He'd found the Dreamer.
We repeat our lines again, 'we will, we will rock you! We will, we will rock you!' We told Galileo and Scaramouche that rock solved everything – it was about love, and that you did it for your baby. Brit did it for me – rocked for me.
Galileo is singing again, continuing Brit's story, 'Buddy, you're an old man, poor man, pleading with your eyes, gonna make you some peace some day, you got mud on your face, you big disgrace, somebody better put you back into your place.'
This fits, but at the same time it doesn't. He wasn't old, he wasn't poor – not in the materialistic sense. Bohemians may not have much, but we've got each other, we've got the vibe. And we've got love. And love is all you need. I saw his eyes in that final, fleeting moment – he was pleading, he wasn't ready to die. He had peace, now, then – not in the future, not someday. In the present. Maybe he metaphorically had 'mud on his face' and just maybe he was a disgrace – a disgrace to Globalsoft, but not to us. Never to us. I feel like screaming – making Galileo tell the story right. He didn't need to be put back in his place – it was with me, and now he's gone. But the beat is too strong, overpowering, and I force myself to remember that the vibe is what Brit lived for. And ultimately what he died for.
We will, we will rock you
We
will, we will rock you
We will, we will rock you
We will, we
will rock you
It seems a fitting end, but Galileo
doesn't seem to realize, or if he does, he doesn't care. He
carries on singing, 'I've paid my dues, time after time, I've
done my sentence, but committed no crime.'
I still feel like screaming at him – he hasn't paid, he hasn't done his sentence. But he has committed a crime. Brit died because of him! I hate him!
'And bad mistakes, I've made a few, I've had my share of sand, kicked in my face, but I've come through.'
It wasn't a mistake! I knew he was a spy! I don't damn well care if he's come through! What about Brit? He didn't!
Galileo turns to all of us and shouts, like he's trying to inspire us, 'And we mean to go on and on and on and on. We are the champions my friends! And we'll keep fighting till the end!'
It's all I can do, go on; keep fighting till the end. Brit did, I can do no less. He fought till the very end, I owe it to him to go on. I don't want to, I want to be with him – where ever that is. Even if it means I die.
'We are the champions, we are the champions, no time for losers, 'cause we are the champions of the world!'
We're only the champions if Globalsoft are finished. If they aren't we're back to the way it was before. Living on the edge, as outcasts. And does he mean Brit was a loser? He can't, can he? I'm about to yell at him for saying that, but he's continued.
'We are the champions, my friends and we'll keep on fighting till the end, we are the champions we are the champions, no time for losers, 'cause we are the champions of the world!'
'No time for losers'? Ha, when Galileo repeats it I remember Brit's opinion of them. No time for those damn GaGa Kids - he couldn't stand them. They didn't have time for us, we don't have time for them. They're the ones that lost – they denied rock, and followed 'noise'. GaGa music can't be described as anything else, and it makes me realize that we are the champions of the world. We will be, we will.
