NOTE: Thank you to my reviewers! You guys keep me motivated to get these chapters out faster! :) Anyway, for this chapter you will need "Time is Running Out" by Muse for when they perform it/Maury's "operation". And, I suggest you look up Muse's live "Intro/Uprising", that way you can see what I mean when I describe it. Please read on! :)
37. The Transcend (We Are the Universe)
Eddie
When I open my eyes in the morning, it's to pale white sunshine leaking in through the windows and Walter, dressed in a plain white shirt, drying his hair as he steps out of the bathroom. I blink, taken aback. Did he really just take a shower? I think to myself, shocked.
"Walter," I croak, my throat still thick with sleep. "Did you take a shower?"
Walter throws his towel back into the bathroom without looking at me. "Yes."
"Why?" I am mystified.
He shrugs, still avoiding my gaze. "Cadence said this was a special occasion," he finally mutters quietly, grudgingly, as though admitting a humiliating weakness.
Instantly I narrow my eyes and the warmth that I've begun to feel for him drains from me, leaving behind only an empty, cold regret. "I should probably take a shower, too. Rylie will be wanting to get going soon," I sigh, glancing at the clock. 5:25. The opening band takes the stage at seven and the gates open at 6:30.
As I grab my clothes and a towel, I see Walter smirk out of the corner of my eye. "So am I to assume Cadence still doesn't know about the meet-and-greet part of this occasion?" he inquires.
That makes me smile. I shake my head. "Not a clue," I respond. He just chuckles and I head into the bathroom to take my shower, still smiling.
Once I'm cleaned up and looking decent, Walter and I head down to the lobby to wait for the others. Jimmy and Damien are already there, looking bored and impatient. Walter and I exchange a glance and then raise our eyebrows at the two of them.
"Been waiting for a while?" Walter inquires wryly.
Jimmy immediately lets out a loud and exaggerated groan. "Ugh, you have no fucking idea!" he complains. "Dude, I thought I was bad but Rylie? Fuckin' insane." He throws his hands up in the air and shakes his head.
I chuckle. "We'll go get her," I tell him, motioning for Walter to follow me. Heading back upstairs, I glance at my phone for the time and sigh. 6:15.
"What?" Walter asks.
"Well, if want to get there with enough time to buy merchandise, which I know Rylie wants to do, we have to leave now," I explain. Walter simply rolls his eyes and shakes his head in mock despair.
When we reach Rylie's room, I knock loudly. Immediately, I hear a frazzled, breathless voice holler, "Who is it?"
"Room service, madame. We've come to service you," I reply, grinning impishly. Walter elbows me sharply in the ribs and I glare at him. "That kind of hurt," I complain and then turn back to the door when it opens.
Rylie looks out at us, her expression a mixture of exasperation and desperation. I raise an eyebrow at her inquiringly. "I can't decide what to wear!" she frets.
I rest my head in my hands. "Oh, good Lord, again, Rylie?" I complain. "Didn't we go through this last time?"
"Would you just get in here and help me?" she snaps back, grabbing both our arms and dragging us into her room. It's then that I realize she's only wearing a towel. Quickly I glance at Walter, looking for his reaction. His cheeks have gone a bright, rose red, his eyes wide with something that resembles horror. His fists are clenched fiercely at his sides, the skin pulled so tightly over the bones that they've turned white.
But Rylie, flustered as she is, doesn't seem to notice that she's done something taboo. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. It's strange; she's usually more sensitive to Walter little quirks. Rushing to her little closet, she pulls a short navy blue dress off its hanger. I smile, recognizing it.
"It's your sexy sailor dress," I say and she can't help smiling at me. "You should wear that," I encourage.
"Well, yeah, I was thinking about it, but don't you think it's a little short for general admission?" she frets.
"What, do you think they're going to measure it?" I reply sarcastically.
She throws me a withering look. "No," she retorts. "But if we're going to be moshing and jumping around, don't you think I should be wearing something a little more...modest?"
"Yeah, but you know how hot it gets in GA. If you wear something that covers you more, you're going to be really uncomfortable," I remind her.
She bites her lip uncertainly, hesitating. Then she just throws her arms up into the air. "Whatever, I'll just wear this. We don't have anymore time," she growls and heads into the bathroom to change. "Be right out," she hollers as she pulls the door closed behind her.
I shake my head and turn to Walter, prepared to crack a joke at her insanity. But I stop, startled, at his furious expression. His eyes are black with anger as they glare at me. "What?" I demand, shocked. What did I do?
"You know what," he hisses.
I narrow my eyes, instantly on the defensive. "No, I actually don't. Please enlighten me."
"'If you wear something that covers you more'?" he quotes in disgust. "You just want her to dress like a whore, your own personal prostitute. How nice," he sneers.
I gape at him, shocked and furious. "Walter, you are a fucking dick, do you know that? How can you even think of calling her that? Or are you a little hot in the pants yourself?" I demand. I realize that we are circling each other now in the middle of the tight room, crouched as though preparing to spring.
His lips pull back into an almost inhuman snarl. "Don't try to turn this on me. You know as well as I do that-"
"Guys, guys!" Rylie's voice, loud and almost panicked, startles me, but I keep my eyes focused on Walter. He doesn't look away from me, either.
She steps in between us, her blue eyes shocked. "Stop fighting!" she insists, caught between anger and confusion. "It's not worth it, whatever it is."
Walter and I both look sharply at her at that. I open my mouth to protest, but he is faster. "Cadence, he-"
But Rylie raises her hands to stop him. "No, Walter, I don't care. We don't have time for this. I'm sick of you guys fighting all the time. You both need to grow some and get over it!" she shouts, glaring first at him and then at me.
I can't meet her gaze so I glare at Walter. He glares right back. But under the anger, I feel something breaking. I realize that I've been clinging to a last vestige of hope, that maybe we could have made things right between us. Because I do want to make things right; some part of me does like Walter. I remember last night, talking with him, and feeling responsible for him, feeling like his older brother even though I'm the younger one. Yes, something breaks inside of me. It's a strange mixture of hatred and regret.
Without another word, Rylie, still fuming, stomps out of the room. Walter glares at me for a moment longer, then follows her. When they're gone, I relax visibly, breathing out heavily. The black anger rushes out of me with my breath, leaving only the hollow loneliness. Dejected, I follow them slowly, closing the door quietly behind me.
~r.~
We get to the Ford Center with five minutes to spare. We're some of the last to join the huge group waiting outside of the gates. Rylie avoids both me and Walter, picking Jimmy and Damien over us. I want to apologize, but I can't. I can't apologize to her without forgiving Walter. So the two of us stand at opposite ends of our group, glaring off into the distance with similar stances- arms crossed over our chests, faces frozen in identical resentment.
When they open the gates, Rylie, Jimmy, and Damien all exchange excited glances, bursting with anticipation. Stifling a sigh, I pull out the tickets and hand one to each of them, lastly Walter, who grabs the ticket and glares at me before ripping it from my grip. I curl my lip but don't say anything.
Once we're inside, I touch Rylie's arm. When she looks at me, her blue eyes are resigned; no longer angry, but not very friendly either. My heart aches but I try to ignore it. "Do you want to look at the merchandise counter before the show starts?" I mumble.
She nods, and I don't miss the flash of excitement in her eyes. "Yeah, let's go!" she enthuses, then sweeps off in the direction of the T-shirt table, flanked by Jimmy and Damien on either side. I follow after them, and Walter falls back a little to follow at a distance.
When we get to the counter, Rylie pushes through the crowd to get to the front and I follow, sticking closer now. After examining the apparel hanging up on the wall display, she lets out a small gasp. "They have the butterfly shirt!" she exclaims. I follow her gaze and see it, the shirt she'd wanted last time but hadn't gotten; it's a white shirt with a butterfly made out of little rainbow hexagons, resembling the cover of "The Resistance".
Telling the girl at the counter- who looks quite flustered and exhausted already- what she wants, Rylie then pulls out her money and reaches to set it on the table. I grab her arm before she can and she looks at me. "I'll pay for it," I murmur. I know that normally she would argue, but she must hear it in my voice- the heavy resignation, the flat, emotionlessness- so she simply retracts her money and steps back to let me pay.
Once inside the actual stadium- with Jimmy, Damien, and Rylie decked out in their new Muse apparel- we quickly push through the crowd already gathered near the stage to get to the front.
Walter sticks close to Rylie's side now, which I find incredibly infuriating. I have to grit my teeth and clench my fists tightly at my sides to keep from hitting him. I can see the nervousness in his eyes- uncomfortable among so many people, I realize in petulant satisfaction.
But I push away my burning emotions when the opening band takes the stage. They don't waste time with an introduction, just jump right into their first song. I'm surprised to see that they're actually pretty good.
Rylie, nodding her head vigorously to the music, turns to me and says, "They're really good. Who are they?"
"Cage the Elephant," I reply. She nods, recognition in her eyes. We've heard of them before, just never listened to their music before.
When the first song ends, we all burst into applause. Up on stage, the lead singer grabs the mic and says, "Hey, Oklahoma City. You guys ready to party?" Everyone screams, including me and my group. I'm close enough that I can see the singer smile a little. "Anyone's invited except for all the cops that are here," he continues, his voice becoming slightly insolent. Immediately, all five of us look at each other, our eyes wide with a delighted kind of surprise.
"Security's invited, too," the drummer interrupts. I frown, glancing around at the men in uniform guarding the stage.
"Well, they can come, too, they just can't wear their uniforms," the lead singer amends. "And they can't bring their handcuffs and guns. And they can't beat us up. Cuz then we would have to kick them out of our party." Everyone starts to cheer again, including myself, vigorously.
The band begins to play again, and we rock along to the song this time- with the exception of Walter, of course, who stands like the stick in the mud he is next to Rylie while the rest of us mosh.
Rylie
Cage the Elephant is very good, and I love their music. But the moment they finish their show and leave the stage, I feel my heart leap in my chest. This is it; this is why we're here.
There is a short transition, in which the roadies change the lighting and prepare the stage for Muse.
And then the music starts. Not a song I recognize, just an introduction. But my heart still flutters in my chest at the sound. I give Walter an excited, jittery look and he smiles at me.
The three cloth towers, that descend like long blocks down from the ceiling to the floor, suddenly light up. They are skyscrapers, I realize belatedly. The windows begin to light up, randomly, seemingly without reason, until all of them are lit up.
And then the windows disappear, revealing people, all glowing white and walking up stairs- perfectly in line, like dutiful subjects. There is a beat behind the sound now, and then, after a moment, there is a voice. Disjointed, separating the words in accordance to the beat: "We are the universe observing itself."
The crowd is practically bursting with energy. It is a tangible, palpable thing all around. I can even feel Walter trembling in anticipation beside me, and this makes me smile. It's no secret to me that he's become fond of Muse, and I'm glad that I can share this moment with him.
"We are the universe observing itself." This is the third time the voice says this, and, simultaneously, the people on the stairs stop, all lined up together in their skyscrapers.
Then the people start to fall.
I watch, my eyes wide with wonder, as the glowing white men tumble down the skyscrapers, knocking over other men as they do. And that's when the voice speaks again. Except this time the words are different.
"We are the universe destroying itself."
The words are so haunting, so chilling, that I shiver. The five of us stop and look at each other, knowing without speaking. We are a pocket of foresight in a sea of the blind. We are caught in time. We have transcended reality.
When the cheering grows louder, however, the connection is broken and we all turn back to the stage. The lights in the fake skyscrapers dim as we do and the noise around us grows louder in preparation.
And then the first note of "Uprising" slams through me; at the same time, the cloth skyscrapers drop, revealing three blocks that have, up until this point, been hidden in them. It's on these blocks that the band stands- lead singer on the left, bassist on the right, and drummer in the middle.
I am filled suddenly with electricity, with something so vital and pure that I almost feel like I'm shimmering with it. With the rest of the crowd, I scream, moshing and pumping my fist into the air. I haven't felt so alive, so endlessly energetic, in a long time.
Muse doesn't talk much during this show. So there aren't many breaks in between songs. We easily sweep through five in one stroke before the drummer- Dom, I remember- takes his mic and yells, "How we doin' OKC?"
Everyone, myself including, screams as a reply.
I hear him chuckle into his mic and then say, "This one's for you."
And they jump then straight into "Time is Running Out".
Maury
When I peel my eyes open, at first all I'm aware of is the pain. Pain everywhere. All kinds of pain- dull pains and sharp pains, throbbing pains and quick, precise pains. I can only think one word.
Fuck.
Dimly, things begin to register in my blurry, cloudy vision. Sights. Things that aren't familiar.
Course I'm pretty sure there's something wrong with my head cuz that's the only place I can't feel any pain; it's just numb. So maybe I've suffered some kind of memory loss or something.
My eyes begin to clear a little, and as they do I'm sure. I have never been here before...wherever here is. All I can really see is the gray tile wall in front of me, and a thick wooden door to the left. There is a rectangular window above the doorknob, but I can't see anything but darkness through it.
I begin to register that I am lying on my back, covered by a white sheet, on some kind of bed or something. There are bars on the sides. It reminds me of a hospital bed.
A hospital, I realize. Yeah, that's it! I'm in a hospital. That explains the pain and the exhaustion and the memory loss. Where was I before this? I can't remember.
There are people around me. They're talking but I can't really hear them; everything is muffled, like someone stuffed cotton in my ears. All of them are dressed in white, doctor's garb. I can't see their faces though; they're wearing face masks and all I can see are their eyes.
They are leaning over me, discussing something. Must be my leg, since they keep looking down at it. I watch them curiously, wanting to ask them what is going on, but I can't seem to find my voice.
And then one of the doctors reaches down and prods my leg with something- and a sharp pain lances up my leg, taking my breath away. There is a brief moment in which I have to struggle to breathe.
And then, gathering oxygen into my lungs, I let out a huge and anguished scream.
Rylie
This is amazing and I can't quite seem to get a grip on it. It feels, like the last time, as though I've somehow stepped into an alternate dimension (/transcended reality/).
I think I'm drowning/Asphyxiated/I wanna break the spell that you've created.
Glancing to my right, I see Jimmy and Damien throwing their bodies into jamming out to the song and I laugh.
Behind me, Eddie is bobbing his head to the beat, eyes closed, as though concentrating completely on the music. I feel a sharp stab of pain, remembering the morose look in his eyes from before. I don't want to hurt him. I just want things to go back to normal between us. But he can't keep insisting on fighting with Walter.
Looking at Walter, I realize that he is completely motionless besides being jostled by the crowd. He is stiff, unmoving, staring up at the stage as though concentrating on not hitting somebody. Glancing down at his hands, I realize that they are balled up into tight fists.
I feel my expression twist with sympathy. I should've thought of how uncomfortable he'd be in such a crowd.
I bite my lip, hesitating. There is something I want to do, but...I don't know how he'll react.
You're something beautiful/A contradiction/I wanna play the game/I want the friction.
I continue to watch him, and he continues to watch the stage.
Maury
Of course the doctors look at me right away and, seeing the tears of pain that are stinging my eyes, they come closer to my head. The one on the left, the one who had touched my leg, bends down and stares into my eyes. He's so close that I can see, behind his glasses, his hazel eyes have little patches of blue in them.
I try to open my mouth again and tell him to make the hurt go away, but only a soft croak comes out. Frustrated and still pulsing with pain, I close my eyes tightly and whimper.
When I open them again, the doctor has leaned away and started talking with the other man again. Outraged, I growl loudly, high-pitched with pain. Neither of them look at me.
Suddenly, I am filled with a huge and pressing sense of overwhelming wrong. Something is definately not right here. My heart begins to pound in my chest. Adrenaline starts to pump through my veins. Danger! my nerves seem to shout. My body still sings with pain, but it has lessened, now, with this epiphany.
Then the doctors walk away, heading over a counter to the right. My stomach does a little flip inside me. I watch them apprehensively, certain that whatever is coming next, I'm not going to like it.
When the doctors turn back to me, the one with the glasses is holding some kind of hand saw. The other man wields a drill. My stomach does a few more flips.
I am unquestionably sure now that I am in danger.
Rylie
The lights, the heat, the music. All of this pounds around me, seems to pound within me, to the beat of my fluttering heart.
With anyone else, this would be elementary, simple, no big deal.
But with Walter, every little thing holds a much greater weight.
I continue to chew on my bottom lip, worrying it while I watch Walter.
Our time is running out.
Finally, I've had enough. There's no reason that I shouldn't just do it. What's the big deal? I try to convince myself.
And so with that, I reach out and take Walter's hand in mine.
Maury
I want to scream so badly, but my throat has closed up with panic. I can only stare with wide, horrified eyes as the two doctors converge on me. Maybe it won't be so bad, I think to myself.
But they come over to my head, and then behind me, where I can't see them anymore. Panic flutters even more furiously throughout my entire body, intensifying and yet also paling the pain.
My head remains numb, but I am aware of a sudden uncomfortable pinching on my scalp. I can't tell exactly where it is on my head, or what's doing it to me, but I have a vague sense that it's cold. It is followed by a strange, unnatural tugging, as though someone...someone...
Someone is...oh SHIT! SOMEONE IS PULLING OFF MY SKIN! The realization in my mind is blaringly loud, so loud I'm shocked the doctors can't hear it. I try to scream but I can't. It feels like someone is squeezing my lungs. For all I know, they might be.
And then, though everything else has been muffled up to this point, I suddenly hear a high, keening screech, very loud, right next to my ear.
The saw. I hear it only too well. One of the doctors carefully turns my head to the side. I'm even more aware now, achingly aware, of how the blood sloshes from one side to the other in my head. Is it leaking out now, out from the hole in my skin that they've created?
My head spins dizzingly, not from blood loss, I realize, but from the thoughts in it. I'm not really squeamish, but this is unnatural, it's too much.
I pretend I don't hear it when the saw cuts, unbelieveably loud, into my skull.
Rylie
He looks down at our interlocked fingers immediately, suspiciously. He stares at them for a long moment and then slowly looks up at me. I give him my most encouraging smile.
I wanted freedom/Bound and restricted/I tried to give you up/But I'm addicted.
After a long pause, he smiles tentatively back. Relief, followed by a fierce, bright joy, fills me, like sudden sunlight in my chest. I give his hand a quick, comforting squeeze and, after a slight hesitation, I feel him squeeze back.
Now that you know I'm trapped/Sense of elation/You'd never dream of/Breaking this fixation.
Together, we turn back to the stage, smiling.
Maury
When my vision starts to slip away, I welcome it gladly. But the damn sadistic bastard with the glasses slaps me several times on my cheek to keep my conscious.
There's blood spattered on his glasses, and that's almost too much for me. I want to puke, run, pass out, something, anything to get my mind off of what's happening to me. Hell, I don't even know exactly what is happening to me, just that they're taking apart my skull like it's some puzzle to be put back together or something.
But I can't do anything. I can't do anything except lie there and take it.
There is pressure in my head now, that almost makes me wonder if it's going to explode. There's still no pain, but that's almost scarier. I can't hear anything besides the saw. Or maybe it's the drill now. I haven't really been keeping track. They're both disturbing, monstrous tools to be using on a patient. If that's what I am.
That's when the horrifying thought occurs to me, belatedly. What if I'm not a patient? I still can't remember where I was before this or what I was doing. But I remember further back, to the fight with the suits, and the disappearances of my brothers. What if I'm... I close my eyes tightly. No! my mind shrieks. This isn't happening!
Well, you're the one who's getting dismantled, so... I retort. I close my eyes even tighter, clench my fists under the sheets, force myself to think the word.
Experiment.
I am an experiment.
Rylie
Toward the end of the concert, I become aware of two things. One is that I'm desperately tired and hot, but unwilling to give in to it. And second...
Walter still hasn't let go of my hand.
This, coupled with the fact that I'm at a Muse concert, has me floating on air by the end of it. I'm riding a wave of ecstasy and pure energy, energy generated by the band, and by every single person around me.
It's during the last song that this energy reaches its fever pitch.
When they begin to play "Knights of Cydonia", Eddie and I exchange an excited glance. This is one of our favorite songs by them- rebellious, intense, and insanely blood-pounding. The crowd starts to go wild. Somehow I know this is there last song, though they haven't said that it is; there's just an edge of finality to it, a feeling that we've come full circle.
So I scream. I scream till my lungs feel like their going to burst and my throat feels like it's on fire. I thrust my fist into the air and shout the lyrics and everyone in that stadium shouts with me: "No one's gonna take me alive/The time has come to make things right/You and I must fight for our rights/You and I must fight to survive." It's one of the most wonderful feelings of unity I've ever experienced, and I'll never forget it. Hundreds of people, pounding their fists into the air in rebellious union, unknowingly resisting the government with the words they sing.
Our group shouts them the loudest, I'm sure. Even Walter, though I'm sure he will deny it later. It's impossible, though, for someone like him, or me, or Eddie, to resist singing to a song like this one. This song beats in our hearts everyday, in our blood, in our bones. It was born within us, from the very first breath we ever took. We were born to fight.
When the song finally ends and the last note fades, trails off until I can't hear it anymore, then people start to leave. They leave slowly, exhausted and unwilling. Reluctantly, I turn to follow them.
But Eddie grabs my arm. I turn to him, puzzled, and he shakes his head. "No, no, no, we go this way," he says, motioning back behind the stage.
I look first at where he's pointing, then back at him, horribly confused. "Eddie, I don't think there are exits that way..." I tell him doubtfully.
But he smirks and hands me something. "I never said we were leaving," he replies.
Looking down, my eyes fly open wide once I realize what he's handed me. "Backstage passes?" I shriek. This is unbelieveable; this is beyond amazing. I leap into Eddie's arms, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I keep repeating into his ear.
He laughs, squeezing me tightly. "No problem, chica," he replies, then lowers me to my feet.
"How did you pull this off?" I ask breathlessly. It feels like the huge grin on my face is irreversable, as though I'll never be able to erase it from my face.
"Malcom pulled some strings," Eddie replies, shrugging. Guess that shouldn't surprise me. Malcom runs with the big dogs; he has connections.
"Holy shit, this is the absolute coolest thing...I don't even...oh my God!" I continue to gush and then my expression turns disapproving. "I hope there's one for everybody." Though I say everybody, both Eddie and I know I only mean one person in particular.
He sighs, resigned. "Don't worry. There's one for each of us," he reassures me.
"Then what the hell are we waiting for?" Jimmy exclaims.
Eddie laughs. "Okay, okay. Here," he says, handing out the backstage passes quickly and then leading us back behind the stage, which seems empty and desolate now without Muse on it.
There is a guard standing near something that resembles a tent. He looks at us curiously, expectantly, but I'm surprised to see that he doesn't appear hostile in any way. Not like cops, I remind myself quickly.
Eddie smiles at him and then motions to the rest of us. "We're here to meet Muse," he explains, and we all hold up our passes.
The guard nods to us, smiling slightly. "Go on in," he allows, stepping aside to let us through. That's when my heart begins to pound, in nervous, excited palpitations. I'm about to meet my favorite band. I'm about to meet Muse. Holy shit.
I'm not really expecting, however, what I hear as I head, suddenly shy and hesitant, into the tent.
"...Oh, just suck on my avagandra!"
"I think it was actually prepare to suck on my alaganza."
"Well, I like mine better."
"I like your avagandra, too."
The words jar me to a halt quite suddenly, and Eddie rams into me, pushing me the last few steps into the tent. We both struggle to stay upright as we stumble forward. "What the hell did you stop for?" he whispers sharply to me.
"I...heard something weird," I snap back, pushing him away from me and then turning, blushing a deep red when I realize that three very familiar men are staring at us, bemused.
"Hello," the lead singer- Matthew Bellamy- says, raising an eyebrow at us.
"Uh..." I trail off, struggling to find words in my suddenly dry mouth. "Hi," I finally manage and then make a face at my elementary response.
"Don't worry, we have passes," Eddie interjects quickly, holding up his pass.
Bellamy slaps his forehead with his palm. "Oi, I forgot," he says, in his very thick British accent. "I'm sorry, we've just been so busy lately." With that, he strides forward, hand extended toward me. Trying to disguise my awe, I shake his hand and he smiles at me, a brilliant, breath-taking smile. "Matthew Bellamy," he says.
I nod. "I know. My name's Rylie, Rylie Howard," I reply.
He nods. "Nice to meet you," he says and then moves on to meet the rest of my group. Dom comes to me next, smiling at me welcomingly, followed by bassist Chris Wolstenholme, whose much more shy than the other two.
"Ehm, this really isn't how we usually do these things, sorry," Bellamy says after we've all been introduced. He gives us an apologetic look. "Usually we're more prepared, but lately...Well, never mind. Come, sit, we'll make room," he continues, ushering us over to the fold-out chairs that are jammed and wedged into every available corner, between amps and guitars and various wires that are connected to mysterious, hidden outlets.
Once we're all seated, the band turns to us expectantly and I flush, realizing that we don't really know what we're doing, either. "Um, sorry. We haven't actually done this before, so..." I trail off.
"Dammit, I should've brought something for them to sign!" Jimmy complains.
Dom just laughs. "Don't worry about it," he says. I blink, noticing that there are circles under his eyes, so dark they seem permanently etched there. In fact, all of them bare the same resemblence to a tortured insomniac. But that's probably just because they've been busy with touring lately.
"So, what's it like playing for venues like this?" Eddie asks, leaning forward eagerly. There is a gleam in his eyes that I don't miss, and I smile a little. I know exactly what he's thinking of- our band.
Dom nods. "It's great. It's always so...uplifting to see so many people out there supporting us," he responds, and there is sincerity in every word. For some reason, I'm touched. I'm not sure what I was expecting before, but I realize at that moment that it wasn't this...normality that the band exudes. They're just...people. Regular people who happen to be in the greatest band in the world.
"It's loads of fun, though, playing for even bigger venues," Bellamy enthuses, his eyes bright. I stifle a laugh; he reminds me of an eight-year-old with ADD. "It's like, you get all of our supporters in one place and let them loose."
I have to laugh at that. "You make us sound like animals."
He grins at me. "Feels like it sometimes, though, yeah?"
I think of patrolling with Walter and Eddie, with Jimmy and Damien. How we fight. How we live to fight. I think of tonight, pumping my fist in the air with hundreds of other people that I don't even know, moshing with them, shouting rebellious lyrics into the air like bullets. "Yeah," I finally reply simply.
"By the way...you guys are fucking amazing live. Just saying," Eddie says.
Bellamy ducks his head, and I'm surprised to see a flash of shyness on his beautiful face. "Thank you," he murmurs and then, looking up, he flashes us a grin. "We try."
"Especially 'Knights of Cydonia'," Eddie continues, glancing at me. And I see it in his eyes- we're both remembering that feeling, that connection only a few minutes prior, to something much greater than ourselves.
"And 'United States of Eurasia'," I add quietly, remembering. The rest of the group looks at me solemnly, and I know we're all sharing the same thoughts. When Muse had performed that song, the cubes on which they were standing had been lit up, not with skyscrapers or windows anymore, but with faces. Faces of hundreds, thousands, of people, like they were categorized into some giant database. I imagine that's probably how the government has us, all neatly filed away, nothing more concerning than a few pictures, meaningless...
"The faces," I say quietly, and my group nods. Walter meets my gaze and his eyes are sad. We don't have to say anything; we know what the other is thinking.
"Ah, yeah. The faces," Bellamy says and I turn to him. He and his band are eyeing us with peculiar expressions on their faces. "We wanted to make it meaningful. 'Big brother is watching you' and all that. Like 1984. We wanted anti-government sentiment. After all, what have we got to lose? Our freedoms?" He snorts then, disdainful, disgusted.
"We've already lost them," Dom mutters, and the two exchange a dark look.
"If we ever had them in the first place," Eddie scoffs and the three of them look at us sharply.
After a moment, a huge grin spreads across Bellamy's face. "Well, now, it seems we've stumbled upon some fellow Red Pill poppers," he says in true satisfaction.
"Red Pill?" I echo, puzzled.
"You ever see 'The Matrix'?"
I shake my head and he gapes at me. I hold up my hands defensively. "Sorry. I've never seen it."
"Well, anyway," he continues, leveling a mock accusatory glare at me. "In the movie, the main character- Neo- goes to this guy named Morpheus and Morpheus offers him two pills. One is the blue pill, which represents blissful ignorance. And the red pill," he pauses then meaningfully. "Represents the truth."
I feel a shock run through me. For a moment that seems to last forever, but which is really only a heartbeat, we all stare at each other, and there is that feeling of unity again. Stronger now, impossibly. I never thought it could get stronger.
I have to document this moment, I think to myself determinedly. That's when I realize that I've stupidly left my camera in the car. Leaping up very suddenly from my seat and likewise startling everyone else, I turn to Damien. "We need to go out to the car now!"
He draws back, surprised. "For what?"
"I left my camera in there!" I exclaim urgently.
Walter gives me a strange look. "Why do you need your camera?"
I give him a look and motion with exaggerated movements at the tent and the people around us. "Why do you think I need it?"
"Well, if you need it then why didn't you just bring it inside before?"
I just throw my hands up in the air, exasperated. "Never mind, Walter," I say in a 'you're-hopeless-and-you'll-never-get-it' kind of voice. Then I turn to Bellamy, suddenly struck by a random thought. "By the way, what in the hell is an avagandra? Or an alaganza, or whatever?"
But Bellamy just laughs; it's Walter who gives me a weird look again. Bellamy grins and leans over to nudge him with his elbow. "You'll drive yourself crazy trying to figure out women," he says teasingly.
But Walter stiffens and edges away from him, his eyes narrowed and his freckled cheeks flushing with color. "What makes you think I'm trying to figure them out?" he demands, defensive. I glare at him, but Bellamy just chuckles, seemingly unbothered by his rude behavior.
The night is unseasonably chilly as Damien and I race into the underground parking lot for my camera. It cuts through my warm feeling and pierces me underneath my skin. I struggle to recall what it feels like, and then goosebumps blossom on my skin, both from pleasure and foreboding.
It feels like truth.
"You take the blue pill- the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill- you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes." - Morpheus, "The Matrix"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I hope you all enjoyed the show :) Just for the record, Muse really does believe a lot of the stuff that I've put into this story. There's even a section on their website called "RED PILL" and it lists Infowars and Prisonplanet underneath. Pretty cool, yeah? Well, I think so. Oh, and if you ever have the means I highly recommend that you go to a Muse concert- I've been to one, and it's AMAZING. I can't even put into words how unbelievable it was. Anyway, please review, they make me smile! :)