The Tromonian Revolution

chapter 1

Our story starts on December 3rd in a cold, empty bedroom, the bedroom of Elijah Leigh in the apartment in which he lived with his sister, Hope. The night was underappreciated in its time but future generations recognised it as one of the most important and beautiful nights with snow resting on the usually quite bland road and covering the trees in a white blanket that they always adored every year around this time. Wind blew musical notes playing a faint jazz Frank sinatra esque melody to all that felt its breeze.
Silently waiting, the Tromonia, a small crystal, sat in a cupboard beneath unwashed clothes. Its slight red glow infatuated all that it locked eyes with like love at first sight, that is why Elijah kept it locked away. One glance as you walked past would be endlessly intoxicating, and you would stop at nothing to be united with its grandiose greatness.
He used it but he kept his sister safe from its power. It gave him more pleasure in the world it created than he could achieve in ten lifetimes without it but for some strange reason that he could not explain, he believed she should not be suscepted to it. Perhaps he concluded that she had the potential to thrive in the real world; he would just have to settle for the Tromonia. Or, he may have seen Tromonia as an inescapable place, a burden that he now had to bear. It had awakened him and he had become disillusioned with the world; he would not enlighten his beloved sister to the malevolence he now faced.
He would never admit that it was better to live in the real world than Tromonia, the world in which he experienced when merely touching the crystal. To him, it was just as real as anything he could experience without it but it was easier to attain these experiences in Tromonia. It was effortless. The world, after all as he often told himself, is actually just as superficial as Tromonia in the sense that it's only as real as we believe it to be. "Real," is difficult to define so in Elijah's view it was irrelevant. “Truth is a matter of the making not of the discovery,” he had heard someone say not too long after he found the thing and quoted it many times in his mind thereafter.
He could be anything in there and it felt like his ultimate truth. His deepest cravings reached out, pulling him into a rapturous trance of his own personalised heaven. Finally, in there, he'd have achieved his dreams, every one of his dreams.
Tromonia transcended time. Yesterday, he had woken up in a quiet nineteenth century bar in a ravishing red tuxedo. The room was dead and dark. He stumbled, disorientated as many sat in silence drinking without acknowledging his presence, until he reached a long piano and sat down to play. He took a deep breath as his piano teacher taught him when he was young and without awareness of what he was doing or how he was doing it, played a jubilant entrancing melody, with his hands racing down each octave like a horse that had escaped the wagon that it carried.
Then, he became alive. The men and women who stared past their drinks and cigars now turned around to notice his reunification with the feelings he infinitely chased. One woman, who had prolonged alluring black hair and hands as soft as water in a wine glass, lightly stepped towards him, making sure not to interrupt the beguiling sounds he made. She rested her all knowing palm on his desperate shoulder, and he would come to remember this moment as the moment he met God in a form he could fully comprehend.
Now you understand, everything he had ever wanted was in the land of Tromonia. Before that, he had been a cowboy outlaw in the wild west robbing trains and banks all across America and eventually escaped into Bolivia, where he continued his criminal endeavours until he was shot in the head by a bounty hunter, becoming a legend in the history books of the world of Tromonia.
But of course, he still had to live in the present or reality as he reluctantly called it. He had been working in factories to pay the bills, it was only when he got home from work when he could enjoy his real life. He had trained himself to mindlessly wake up, go to work where he would stick chair legs onto chair tops, and drive himself home where he for the next 12 hours could be limitless.
He never cleaned up, Hope did that for him as well as the cooking and all other chores as she had no job. Although, she left his room alone as per his request, so he was left to rot in his indulgence.
Hating the world was a trait he had kept for most of his life. Though, he also hated himself. There were moments when he felt free from his hate but those were fleeting outside Tromonia. He had brought Hope with him when he abandoned his parents which left him with many regretful mornings realising that he had lied to her about many things. He was always lying, even now he had lots to hide. He couldn't exactly go back so the lies continued and the guilt worsened every morning after.
Two drunken voices echoed through the short corridor outside of Elijah and Hope's apartment. One was him, Elijah, who was a black man, and the other was Max Wilco, a white musician who 2 days previous had just got out of prison and was soon to be the most famous man on the planet, as he told most people he met.
In fact, he had just played music at a bar across the street and was clearly talented. He had gained the interest of some and continually repeated, “I'm gonna be number one!” Most people there actually believed him but Elijah was not convinced, though he enjoyed the presence of Max and his songs very much. With their arms around each other holding each other up, Elijah opened the door claiming he had something life changing to show him.
Max had grown his hair out in prison and was yet to shave leaving his unkempt face with hair that you could hardly call a beard. Elijah seemed to keep himself more tidy with a short haircut and a clean shave. He had to be to work, even with such a simple job as his they expected him to look exceptional in his uniform with one of the companies accepted hairstyles. No tattoos allowed or piercings, just a man with a job. An ordinary man, no need for a name.
Elijah found his way to his room and searched through his draw as Max followed along, proud of his successful night. They had left the bar early after selling Max's first demo to many people; Hope and Sam, Max's sister, were still ravished in the glory they had left.
Eventually Elijah found it. You know what he found. He held it in his hands trembling and right there the portal of love and serenity almost opened up inside of his mind but then he remembered where he was and passed it to Max. “What… What is this?” Max stuttered as he caressed the red stone that lit up the room  with all of his delusions of boundaries dissolving beneath him like a letter burning atop a fireplace.
“It's called a Tromonia. All this shit you've been talking about that you want, it's all in there man,” Elijah explained, excited by the sight of the thing. "We are all chasing pleasure. Whether you want fame or God or whatever, it's all the same. And it's all there, in Tromonia."
Max gripped it tighter in his hand and breathed at an unsteady pace. Failing to utter another word and forgetting of his previous, now miniscule success from the night, the thing took over his fragile, empty mind and a beautiful symphony of euphoria filled his entire body like ingesting pure music from an orchestra that had been practising a great piece of music for years and this was the moment that they would finally play it all together. His heart came in as the drum as he attempted to stay somewhat present in samsara until the strings came in and he fell into the world of Tromonia fully.  The music was unlike anything he had heard before. It had the richness of music from previous generations but it was the power that was unique. It had the perfect articulation of a great scholar without the use of words. Colours that humans usually could not comprehend were now revealing themselves to him. Every aspect of beauty on earth was intensified by some sort of divine being but it was not God. God was in manacles, forced to radiate good energy from something above.
When he opened his eyes, he was playing this music, and it became a song that he had written. Clarity came in and he saw that he was on a stage in front of millions, perhaps even billions of people. His dreams were now a reality, as real as he always knew they would be. Every face he looked out upon looked back in disbelief that their idol danced only a few hundred feet or so in front of them.
He stood at the front with a drummer and two guitarists behind him whose faces he could hardly make out. They were not who the people had come to see, they had come to see him.
When the song ended and the applause erupted with some even whistling and cheering, he had something to say. “Listen, I want you all to know something.” Pure joy rushed through his entire being yet he felt lighter than ever.
He continued, “I'm so happy! I want you all to know, you can do anything! We live in an incredible world and it's yours man! I've done what I wanted to do, and you can do it too! You will do it! You have to believe! There's no failures, only people who give up too early. I love you all, thank you for this amazing night!” All he wanted was for every person in the crowd to feel how he was feeling. If they all understood, the world could be saved.
That was a speech he had wanted to make since before he could dream of anything at all. He would practise it in the mirror when he was younger, plotting the perfect way to inspire as many people as he could, dictating his points with his hands in the air and pacing around the room.
Then, a note was placed in his hand that he read aloud. "Now we have the world famous Charles Manson with his brand new hit, cease to exist!"
Charles ran onto stage with a cheap acoustic guitar and high fived Max as hard as he could. "Great show man!" He told him. "Party at my place tonight!"
"Alright Charlie!" Max replied, strutting off stage being met by fans and people with cameras.
"I love you Max Wilco!" One of them screamed from the back of the crowd.
"Can I get a quick interview, Mr Wilco?" Another begged but Max just kept walking. It was paradise.
Charlie played his guitar and dragged out his words with the echo of the stadium. "Cease to exist, just come and say you love me. Give up your world, come on you can't be. I'm your kind, oh your kind I can see."
Max was taken to Charlie's house in a black limousine, drinking wine in the back with the window open to see the shock on peoples faces as he drove past, waving at them.
A band dressed in white suits played “the great pretender” in the collosal mansion owned by Charlie Manson himself. When Max arrived, he was greeted by undeserving stares and Elijah with a glass of champagne in his hand, alerting Charlie and running to him. “Max! It's good to see you man! Isn't this place great?”
“It really is! It's everything I dreamed it would be,” He replied.
“What place?” Charlie asked. “My house?”
“Tromonia Charlie! You know?” Elijah laughed.
“Yeah I know man, I'm just playing.” It seemed Charlie understood more than most citizens of Tromonia. Or maybe they all knew what this was and they all embraced it indiscriminately.
“Anyway, I'll see you later.” Elijah patted him on the shoulder and walked outside.
“Cya Elije!” Charlie shouted as he got to the doorway.
“Elije?” Max teased, as if Charlie was an old friend who'd become distant and changed everything about himself without losing the connection they once shared.
“Yeah man! It's the nickname I created for him! I love nicknames, if there's anything I want people to remember about me, it's that. What do you want to be remembered for?” They began to walk outside, noticing an ice sculpture that sat on the artificial grass made to look like Charlie.
Max thought for a second about the question he had been asked. “Well, it's like I was saying before, at the show. I want people to be inspired by me to follow their dreams instead of… You know, just working because they are told to work, living because they are told to live.”
Charlie sat on a bench which underneath had a guitar; Max sat with him. “You've already done that man!”
“Come on, this isn't real,” he sighed, his adulation for the place disintegrating with his cold breath.
“Actually, it is,” Charlie corrected with a smug smile. “This is the most real thing in the universe.”
“Oh really?” He joked. “How so?”
“Well..” Charlie picked up his guitar and began to explain, plucking a few strings as he spoke. “Tromonia is an expression of all of time. You're living in the future right now, your future.”
“Really?” Max wanted to believe him.
“Yes! This isn't fake, or a dream or whatever. This is real life! The Tromonia is a gateway to all points in time. You know I'm right man, you've always known this is what you'll become. Don't resist it, you're not crazy.”
He paused for a second, taking in what Charlie was saying. “Does Elijah know?” He asked.
“I don't know if he knows. But you know, he doesn't need to. Hes not Max fucking Wilco! You know who you are, man?”
Max replied with a simple, “yeah.”
“No you don't. You don't know who you are. You think you are who they've told you that you are. You've come close to finding out the truth but they've got in your head and taken the truth right out of you. Taken it from you in your sleep, through all the lies they've told. I see you. I've seen who you are.”
“Well, tell me.”
Charlie smiled. “You'll find out. Tromonia will tell you, I'm just a guy.”
“Come on, just tell me,” Max begged.
Charlie interrupted. “Who are you singing for? Do you even know that?”
Max did not know, it was a question he had never asked himself.
“No one, that's the answer. You're singing for no one, dancing for nothing.”
“That's not true man, I've told you, I'm trying to inspire people.”
“That's what they've told you. I'll leave you with this man, you've got more power than you realise. And this future, it can change if you steer your eyes to something new.” He began to play a short melody and sing the lyrics, “your home is where you're happy, it's not where you are not free. Your home is where you can be what you are, because you were just born to be. They will show you their castles, and diamonds for all to see. But they will never show you their peace of mind, because they don't know how to be free. So burn all your bridges, leave your old life behind. You can do what you want to do, because you are strong in your mind. And any place you might wonder, you can make that your home. As long as you've got love in your heart, you'll never be alone.”
A large crowd had gathered around him dancing and singing as he sang. When he finished, he was met with laughter and thunderous applause that somehow outshined the billions of people Max had played to just an hour ago. Charlie turned to him to say one last thing, “trust it man. That's all I need to say. It can be a real force for good, it's the key to something more. You've had your fun now.”
Max went back inside where he was greeted by his fans chanting his name. He sat down with a drink on an expensive sofa and drifted out of this world slowly.

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