Day 11: Poetery, Art, Music, Craft
inspired by a lovely piece of art by tumbler user quigley-yy!
The Airwaves Speak to Me
The temperature was mild. While a quiet, subdued breeze brushed against Adam, who was lying on the grass, he focused on the sky. Half-lidded eyes searched the clouds that slowly swayed across the horizon, its darkening blue hues denoting the fact the sun had recently set.
Adam wasn't sure how long he had been resting in the Questionable Area. It was the perfect spot to be alone and listen. If he had to estimate, perhaps two hours had transpired. For once, he hadn't kept track, his thoughts elsewhere, his mind drifting to the familiar music.
The radio sat only inches from his head. It had been playing for the same length of time that he had been still. By now, he had memorized the lone song the station played, for the DJs were unable to retrieve new music. (They were but calliope music was not what the station was looking to play on air, despite its policy of acceptance. Poor Raz had tried to convince the stalwart host, and Adam respected his efforts.) Regardless, the lone song was jaunty, befitting of the host, who had just finished a conversation with two up-and-coming musicians from Whispering Rock. The Firestarters, as they were aptly named, were a decent duo, but when they played a mixture of drums and record scratching, Adam found himself longing for that same song.
And now, staring at nothing in particular, Adam continued dreaming as the song faded out.
"You're listening to K.L.O.B! The Motherlobe's premiere station for all agents. I'm Morris Martinez-" His smooth, silky voice, perfect for his position, was a joy in Adam's ears. "-and I'm stepping down."
He blinked. Reality crashed onto him. Adam's head snapped to the radio, stifling a confused shout.
"But no worries! It's just for the rest of the evening," Morris reassured, and Adam breathed out a sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I'm letting my littlest but most assertive DJ take the reins until his mom comes to pick him up. Isn't that right, Queepie?"
An annoyed huff crackled through the speakers. "I don't need my mom to get me. I can walk home by myself. One good song isn't enough to keep me around, you know, 'cause I can go whenever I want."
Adam's lips spread in a tight smile. He cupped his mouth, snickering. Raz's brother was something fierce, a firecracker of a toddler - if he was a toddler. He didn't know any toddlers who spoke with such forceful clarity to present his point. Adam also wasn't aware of any little kids who could hoist up his entire family by his head alone.
Morris laughed. "And that's what I mean by assertive, everyone. Anyway, this is Morris Martinez signing off. Until next time!"
Adam sat upright. As the song restarted, he shut off the radio. As interesting as it would've been to listen to Queepie's first time hosting without a chaperone, he wasn't Morris. After all, the best reason to keep K.L.O.B. on in the background was Morris and Morris alone (until, perhaps, they got another record to play.)
With a grunt, he stood. He rested his palms on his back and pushed his chest out, cracking his stiff spine. Instantly relieved of his soreness, he levitated his hat onto his head and raised his radio behind him, deciding to march off for dinner, as his grumbling stomach demanded sustenance.
But Adam paused mid-step. He looked at his surroundings. The trees in that particular section of the Questionable Area were particularly thick. His gaze caught a certain winding one within walking distance. If he moved now, he could've easily caught him. All he needed to do was move forward.
But he'll be tired. It wouldn't be good to talk with him now, the worrying part of his brain chided.
Or you could be a good mate and say hello. There's nothing abnormal about it, the rational half urged.
Adam scoffed, his nostrils flaring. It was a battle in his mind. Two emotion-based components waging war in his mind, one in love and the other clinging to logic. They had been quiet until he considered greeting Morris by running into him, pretending it was casual when it was all meticulously planned.
Though, with his twisting ideas, he failed to realize a particular someone approaching.
It wasn't until Morris was in front of him did Adam notice. He practically jumped, his eyes blinking away his consternation. Morris rested his hands underneath his chin, grinning, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. In an attempt to save face, Adam tilted his head, smiling, showing off his teeth.
"Guess you were too deep in thought to see little old me?" he teased, sitting back in his wheelchair. He bounced, a levitation ball rocking underneath him.
"I suppose so. I have quite a lot of ideas, you know." Adam lifted the hat's brim. "So, how'd you find me? I'm not that close to your treehouse."
Morris tapped his temples. "As Razputin would say, I picked your psychic synergy. It might not be a thing, but I really did just focus on your vibes to find you." He leaned to the side, eyes focusing on the radio. "But that right there makes me wonder what you're doing in my neck of the woods."
"The forest is marked now? What, are we Junior Psychonauts dividing territory now?"
Barking out a laugh, Morris floated toward him. The closeness was almost enough to make Adam step away, but he stood his ground. Morris stared at the radio, a question in his eyes. Adam was ready to ask when Morris gasped, jabbing his finger right at Adam's chin.
"Oh, man, how'd I not figure it out the second I saw you? It's you!" Morris beamed, cheeks flushing. "You're my listener!"
As much as Adam appreciated Morris' sudden joy, he had to examine the claim. "Well, I'm sure there are other people who listen to K.L.O.B."
Still grinning, Morris crossed his arms and shook his head. "No, no, man. I know who's listening."
"Uh, how?"
His bravado draining before Adam's eyes, Morris snaked his hand through his hair. "Uh, it sounds weird, but deal with it. Queepie's a pretty strong psychic."
"I suppose so, but again, how do you mean? I don't fathom the connection."
Morris levitated around him in a circle, talking as he went. "See, the kid's got great sensory abilities. He told me it's why he can hide so efficiently from his family. He focused on whoever had the station on and told me there was just one person listening." He tossed his hands up. "Again, psychic synergy but this time through the radio."
Adam found the explanation somehow both incredibly hard to believe and downright understandable. He knew the toddler was strong, both physically and mentally, but he couldn't have been that powerful at such a young age. It was as if Queepie was a psychic prodigy.
Still, Adam's heart fluttered. He realized he hadn't inhaled and drew in a slow breath. Morris was close to him, resting his hand on his shoulder, eye-to-eye.
"But hey, I'm glad you're listening. It makes K.L.O.B. worth it. Even if it's only one person, so long as someone listens, I'll still host it, y'know?" He smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing. "Out of everyone, I'm glad it's you."
In person, Adam realized Morris' voice was far crisper. It was smooth, amiable and earnest. Although Adam had heard him hundreds of times before, what Morris conveyed was exactly what Adam wanted to hear. And when Morris lightly bumped his knuckles against Adam's forearm, lingering for a moment too long, Adam gripped his hat, steadying himself.
"Well, I want to be your biggest supporter, Morris. The best way to do that is to catch every show, right?"
Morris swiveled in front of him, landing. "Of course! But I need to have my biggest supporter on my show, too, right? You can talk about whatever's historically hip. I bet it'll draw in a crowd."
"And what is your definition of 'historically hip?'"
"Whatever works for you, my friend."
Morris was someone who drew him in and lifted Adam off his feet. It was as if being in his presence activated his levitation, floating off together to parts unknown. Soaring through the airwaves or even just chatting, it was enough for Adam, quelling the weariness of his brain.
Hitching his thumb in the direction of the Motherlobe, Morris asked, "Want to get dinner? Queepie's gonna be on for a while."
"It's a-" Adam swallowed back a certain word. "-dinner for you and I."
And hand on Morris' shoulder while they made their way home, Adam listened to every Morris' word.
