The Music Or The Misery (FOB FanFic)

Chapter 4

-Andy's POV-

I was in a local gym, running on a treadmill. Sweat dripped down my tattoo-covered shirtless body as I ran on the conveyor belt. Usually I would have my earbuds in or I would watch something on the TV, but music was illegal and the TVs now just played stupid government-promoting commercials on a constant loop. I've seen it all before.

I think I speak for everyone when I say that I'm sick and tired of the government. They thought that the creative forms of expression were causing all the violence and protesting in this country and that was their reasoning as to banning it (at least, that's what they've told us). If anything, the ban is causing all the violence and protesting the government doesn't want to acknowledge is still an issue.

There were three kinds of people in this world.

The first kind were the ones who never were involved with the arts. Sure, they might've enjoyed it, but they had no direct connection and weren't really affected by the ban. They lived life every day just like they used to.

The second and third kinds were the ones who did have a direct connection.

The second kind were the ones who have accepted the ban and have tried to conform our lives the best we can to this new society. I feel like I fell in this category, as well as Pete and Patrick (the latter to a lesser extent). Of course we would love the ban to be lifted and for all forms of art, primarily music, to be reintroduced into society, but not as much as the third kind.

The third kind of people were the ones who refused to accept this change in society. They continued to play their music, paint their paintings, write their now mainly satiric novels and articles, film their movies, whatever. There were more third kind people in this world than second. You could find a majority of them underground, where they've retreated to live life the way they wanted to. The ones who were still above ground, well, let's just say there weren't many left. Because the ones who stayed above were caught and, shortly after, executed. Joe fell into this category. I believe he was underground, though.

The only problem with the underground arts scene was that they were all so close to being killed. The government has raided the underground a few times before, making all of the musicians and artists and writers evacuate, threatening to kill them if they didn't change their ways. It worked for, I'd say, a day. But before you know it, they were all back down there, doing what they wanted to do

I was just praying that Joe would come to his senses before he got himself in a situation he couldn't get out of.

Just as I increased the speed on the treadmill a notch, one of the trainers at the gym approached me. "Hey Andy."

"Hey," I huffed, matching the new pace.

"Someone dropped this off for you," They retorted, handing me an envelope. I looked down at the envelope and back up at the trainer.

"Who's it from?"

"Don't know."

I decreased the speed of the treadmill till it stopped and snatched the letter out of the trainer's hand. "How do you not know?"

"I wasn't given the letter directly. Another one of the trainers gave it to me to give to you."

"Oh," I replied, stepping down from the piece of workout equipment and leaning against it, "Well, thanks, I guess."

"'Welcome. And you should really take a break, Andy, you've been running all day. You're going to pass out if you keep working out like this."

I waved my hand, "Yeah yeah..."

The trainer patted me on the shoulder and walked away. I took a long sip from the water bottle I had close by before opening the envelope up, pulling out the letter and unfolding it.

Tonight
Midnight
Sears Tower
100th Floor
Bring no one
Everything will be explained upon arrival

I cocked my eyebrow in confusion and looked up, seeing if the trainer was still around so I could ask him if he knew what any of this meant. But he had disappeared, as well as everyone else. I was the only one left in the gym.

I swallowed hard and looked back down at the letter, folding it up and slipping it into my pocket before grabbing my things and walking away.