Life on Mars

Chapter Nineteen

Vic felt the building rumble beneath his feet at the sheer power created from 100,000 human beings stamping and screaming. They chanted his name Nova, Nova! almost in sync with his pounding heart. The stadium's house lights went down, sending the crowd to unbelievable levels of ecstasy. As the stage lights came up, he felt a cool breeze across his face as Weird, Gilly and the 'Spiders' ran past him onto the stage, waving to the audience as they did, sending them into further raptures. 

Nova had finally found a name for his band, his own private joke. He'd remembered a conversation with some computer geeks at his office about algorithms they have in search engines spiders or crawlers or something like that. They were robotic computer programs that could help you find what you were looking for. Finding himself living in a world run by a computer, not least a computer on Mars, it was perfect. He had named his band the Spiders. Now he would have everything his way, the way it should have been all those years ago when he had his first crack at fame. The last time he'd put his music out it resulted in utter disappointment. He wasn't surprised not with what he knew now. 

Looking back, he'd no idea how forced and naive his music had been in those days. As the lights came up and the crowd roared, Vic thought back to the night he quit music. Feeling like the only musician who'd ever gone home and cried like a baby, seeing their dreams shattered like broken glass. Never in those wildest fantasies could he have foreseen this.

He had adopted the name Nova by now. It was the name Bluu used to address him and so he had decided Nova it would be. Having demanded his show promoters change everything associated with the tour, every single reference to his name was to be changed.

"I don't give a shit how difficult it is, just do it!" So, it was done, like everything else he asked for was done. As the shows became closer, the mask of Nova had welded to him so much it was hardly a mask anymore.

At last, the people of Heathen would get the chance to see their hero in the flesh, to almost taste him. Cameras projecting onto huge screens glimpsed him backstage just a momentary glimpse of him in his woollen leotard and feather boa. It was now, it had to be now as the guitars struck up he marched confidently towards the microphone. That was when it happened. As the band finished the intro to the first song, he missed his cue. Instead, Nova just stared into the crowd as if in a trance.

The band attempted to reconfigure the song and start the intro again, sensing something was wrong. They got as far as the opening lyric for a second time and still nothing. He was frozen, like a rabbit dazzled by the lights. The crowd, realising something was wrong, slowly hushed and the music died. Finally, a hundred thousand faces just stared up at him, wide-eyed. They were almost silent as he just stared, the only sound the occasional uncomfortable shuffle of feet or involuntary cough, every tiny sound echoing across this cavernous concert hall. The red, yellow and blue spotlights circling the stage seemed pathetic with no musical accompaniment.

It was another of his 'incidents', this one was strong, powerful. He was aware of why it felt so right to be in front of 100,000 fans. He was Nova and his band were the Spiders. He was no longer Vic Jones and never had been. He could see his past and he could see the future. He knew everything that had happened and everything that would. It had all been staring him in the face, plain as day. He didn't need the humanists to tell him what to do because he already knew. All this, he realised in that instant.

Then, as quickly as it arrived... The realisation he had a few moments ago was gone, everything he'd known only seconds ago had disappeared and he couldn't get it back. Like waking from a dream, where he knew what it was about but could not recall its detail.

Nova raised his hand to block the bright lights from his eyes and gazed at the ghostly faces staring up at him.

Shaking, he clasped half a fist across his chest with thumb and forefinger outstretched and flicked his forehead with the fingertips of his other hand. Everything disappeared from his vision and he reached up onto his head and pulled the V-world helmet off the screaming crowd, the stadium and the band all gone.

Finding himself back in the real-world rehearsal space. He was no longer in the private rehearsal sim they had designed for the tour.

"Fuck it," he screamed, throwing the V-world helmet at one of the futures. "Rehearsals over."

"Hey, man!" The future looked nervous, in despair.

"Don't you fucking 'hey man' me. It's Nova, get it," he screamed into his face stabbing the man's temple with his finger. "You're using that electronic thing again."

The futures had been artificially enhancing his music and voice with some gadgetry that resampled every note to perfection. He'd already demanded this all be taken out of the recordings.

Angry about that, yes, but if he was honest with himself, it was all just cover for the incident. He daren't tell anyone; moreover, he was concerned it could happen on the night of the show. He felt it better to keep it to himself for now until he had some idea what was going on.

"But every note?" said the engineer.

"I don't give a shit about how plastic you want this, I want my music to sound real."

"The notes are great, we are not..." pleaded the man.

"It's off, forget it. This show is not happening. Leave me alone."

Vic stormed out, slamming the door.

That had been a week ago, the show was off. Fuck 'em he thought. He was happy to stay in Montserrat and write. Admittedly over time, he'd calmed down a lot and no one had approached him about the show. This amused if not concerned him somewhat, clearly, they had been unaware they were supposed to beg him to come back, pacify him whilst he begrudgingly accepted. This hadn't been the case and he was becoming increasingly concerned, especially as the quality of his writing increased exponentially. He was absorbing this new environment into his songs both in reality and V-world. Everything in TVC15 provided limitless new themes on which to write his music, coupled with numerous genres from his own history. He borrowed from jazz, techno and rock to produce a sound long forgotten in time and the futures would love it. Not that he wrote for them, he would have no need to do that. Anything he produced would be lapped up regardless of quality. Even the doctor hadn't seemed concerned that the shows were cancelled or even questioned him about it. He'd expected that the doctor, if not Bluu, would be chosen to make the plea, but none came.

The futures had decided if he said that's it, then that was it. If this kind of behaviour continued, he may well have to consider begrudgingly relenting after all. No matter, he was ready.