The Tromonian Revolution

chapter 5

Chapter 5
Alright hello again. Did you enjoy the last chapter? If not you will probably enjoy this one much more. It's still december 4th, just this time we are concentrating on Max and Hope.
Max woke up and everything had changed after he met Tromonia. His body looked like a  stranger, he saw what he had called himself in his mirror but lost in it was how he used to look, with his neatly cut hair and young face. Everything he had considered truth became nothing but distortions of once real genuine wisdom that morning after.
He wasn't reformed when he got out of prison, he realised; in fact, he was more delusional than ever. Charlie put it best, the truth had been ripped right out of him as he slept in his prison bed ashamed of who he was, attempting to reinvent himself as a harmless musician. “Harmless, who wants to be harmless?” He thought to himself, sitting on his bed alone in the clothes he slept in, his hair greasy and his breath full of beer.
His time there was magical and transformative. The world was so blessed compared to the one he and Elijah inhabited through their lives. There, his every action felt as though it was right and each one was more effortless than the last. Everyone in there had seen every one of his mistakes and loved him even more because of it. Even his potential future that he lived out, which now seemed to him to be superficial and ultimately meaningless, one that now he hoped to change, the people of Tromonia let him play out, feeling the same contentedness as him as he did so.
He got out of bed after thinking for a while about it in nostalgic amazement and then looked around his apartment for Sam. She wasn't there so he ate some toast and had a coffee and knocked on for Hope.
“Who is it?” Hope yelled from the other room but she could’ve guessed it was Max. “It's me, Max,” he shouted back. She let him in and he noticed Elijah was gone. And while he was looking around for him, he felt restless. It was just a moment he felt it. He took a few deep breaths and looked all around the room, his hands shaking anxiously but with a hint of excitement. This was where it was. A few steps away from him it sat in Elijah's cupboard. He didn't want to see Hope, he wanted her to leave. If she could leave for just one hour he could learn everything he needed to do. That one hour could set out his entire life if only Hope would leave.
"I was actually just about to go… Out," she told him and attempting to think of a plan to use the Tromonia, he joked, "I guess I'll just wait here playing piano," and sat down at their piano. His reaction was almost instinctual.
"Alright, cya later," she laughed and waved goodbye as she left the apartment. A sudden array of excitement blossomed in his stomach when he saw he would be in contact with Tromonia once again. And soon more when he saw that she trusted him. But then, after that came a slight lump of shame, again subsiding in his throat as it always did. That is where it seemed to get caught. As if it were words that he wouldn't let be spoken. Perhaps the truth. Perhaps an “I'm sorry,” though he'd said it to Sam just three days ago. There was more he needed to say and he knew even if he said it all there would be even more. But he had to stop thinking about that, he knew the deception was necessary. He knew Tromonia would help him. He waited for her to leave the building and waved goodbye again out of her window before he sped into Elijah's bedroom as if he were late.
He'd been there just yesterday but today he saw the mess that Elijah lived in, and why he had to escape. Searching through his draws was a daunting task, he seemed to be somewhat of a hoarder. But soon, the Tromonia was found in all its limitless perfect glory. It was like being in the presence of God just to glance at it in the bottom of the drawer. He quickly pulled it out and put everything else back in, making sure to stay grounded in reality until the room was as it used to be.
Then, he picked it up delicately with his right hand, looked at it for a moment, took a deep subduing breath, and tripped right into a limitless hole. He felt wind whistling on his face as he noticed the white December sky coming in around him. He saw planes and helicopters and all the world's towers built up below him, as if he was in a large theatre in his own private viewing booth above all the seats and performers. So high he could notice the musicians under the stage, orchestrating the underlying melody of this world, their faces masked by dark shadows.
Then, he found himself in an old car. The song, “I'll be home for Christmas,” by Bing Crosby played on the stereo. The windows were foggy, he could not make out where he was. Then, he turned to look at who was driving. “Hey man,” Charlie said. “It's good to see you again.” He gave him a forgiving smile, one that said everything but this moment was irrelevant. In the real world a smile couldnt convey so much but in this one it felt like the ultimate truth as everything did.
“Are you famous yet?” He joked, but in no way that mocked his friend Max, Charlie simply recognised that fame was no longer what he wanted and he was better off for it. “I cant stay for long,” he told Charlie. “I have to get out before Hope finds me.”
“Don't worry about that, you'll get out just in time. You're doing well clearly, since I see that you're back,” Charlie stated. His laugh was very charming, with a disarming innocence that simultaneously gave the impression that he knew all that could be known. He liked to whistle to the music as he drove and waved at others on the street and in their cars.
“Who are you, man?” Max asked him, seriousing his posture. “Im charlie manson,” he answered. “In another world I was a murderer but in this one… Well, do you know who was born on Christmas day, Max?”
“Of course I do. Jesus Christ,” he replied. “A lot of people don't know that, you know?” Charlie stated. He saved mankind, died for their sins and they don't even care. Why do you think that is?” Max did not reply, he simply looked out of the window as the music played. “Jesus was the ideal man,” Charlie claimed after a minute or so. “And yet, no one has ever come close to being anything like him!” He was extremely ardent in his speech but Max was not understanding his message.
So, they drove. It wasn't particularly the experience he had hoped for when the sight of the thing excited him. Charlie didn't say much and neither did he and the music ended after that first song. Though, it was clear to him Charlie had  a message that he needed to concentrate on so that his potential could be realised.
Soon, he noticed the world changing outside the window, though Charlie didn't acknowledge it.  The world he drove through now was much different from the one of his childhood. There, you saw green trees and blue skies and lakes. Now, everything was grey. Skies, grass, trees and buildings all made from the colour grey. It wasn't Tromonia. Although actually, Tromonia was just an expression of parts of his world. So, in a way it was but it expressed the damnation felt in his world by many. A deep overwhelming dread took over Maxs entire body when the world changed in this way. It did not this time, as it did this morning, remain in his throat, it took over him. It paralysed him. It subdued him in hatred.
An anger had been building in his body when the world turned grey and the rain started, a physical sensation, almost as if it was burning, climbing up through his back and to his head giving him a formidable, foul headache. This experience was not at all what he intended to feel but again, he was paralysed, forced to watch all the evil in the world from outside his window.
Charlie took him to see all the death and disease in the world in a few minutes, then the next few he showed him the evil. Max came to know fraud and hatred and soon the evil in his leaders, fighting wars to make some money.
“Why are you showing me this?” Max soon said. He felt enough courage after it was all done to sit up and fight against this evil. And Charlie agreed that was what it was, telling him it needs to change. “There is a way,” he said, “that all this evil can leave us. We can be free from it. The world needs a great saviour. Jesus tried but he failed.”
Then, there was nothing. There was no transition; suddenly, there was nothing.  Not suddenly in the sense that anything happened in particular, there was never anything but potential. Potential that needed to be expressed was all there was in the world. Just as in his music, before the sound, there was only a desire for the sound or perhaps an idea; now, he wished to see all of his friends and see the world again.
So he spoke the word, creating light. And everything else illuminated into existence. Trees, water, fire, animals; everything he had ever known was created through his own words and though it seemed to be separate, it was all the same, spoken into existence from the same words by him. When consciousness pervaded other beings in his own image, beings seemingly separate from Max, they would worship him and grow into his likeness. They would give him different names, and have different beliefs surrounding him, but they would be worshipping him for all of time. There would be times of spiritual prosperity and  even times of atheism but he could not be ignored for long. Even the atheists would follow him unconsciously for he was the source of all joy and meaning. Even when they would denounce meaning all together they couldn't help but search for him.
One day, a man prayed to Max. He said, “God, creator of all music and art and writings and bodies and love, the one who crafted the masterful path leading to this great now, why are you sitting on your throne in the sky? Why do you give your great creation to the inferior beings that currently dwell here? Why must you be so selfless that you cannot come down and be here with us in this such beautiful world? Take my body, Live with more virtue than I. Speak authoritatively, forgetting the reason it comes with such ease, Disregarding humility the way we often do, Fully embracing each instrument in the song of life, So they will sing louder to you. That is my invitation."
So Max came down and he embraced his own creation as had always been his plan.
He found himself in the middle of a large group dancing to the shangri-las at a party some time in the 60s, holding hands with a girl with long long brown hair. Hair so long he couldn't see the end and a face so pretty he for a second forgot he was its creator, which was a blissful feeling. It had been such a burden all those years, he always envied people who could fall in love with a girl they had held hands with for just a moment and dance with them all night and marry her the week after. She swung his hands back and forth and gave him a great big kiss. He was so nervous and she could tell so she kissed him more and smiled at him as she danced her legs up and down into the air.
Then he awoke back in Charlie's car. “I feel great!” Max yelled proudly. “You’re god now, are you not?” Charlie asked him. “Well,” he said. “I feel like it.”
“What more evidence could there possibly be? You're Jesus man.” Charlie continued to giggle and sing. “That's all there is to it! That's what we're telling you! We're offering you our power. Here it is right now. You were God and you became flesh.”
He then pulled over to a place Max did not recognise, a windy park. Max saw himself standing in the middle of the park on a statue of an irrelevant metal man. “It's the 25th of december by the way,” Charlie told him and pointed at the future Max. “Look at yourself, you're over there. This is the day you are recognised for your true self. The second coming of Jesus. This is the day you are fully reborn.” He pointed for him to watch, raising his eyebrows in seriousness. It seemed to be early in the morning, Max was looking well. He wore his hair in a ponytail and his face was glowing with pride. Surrounded by friends and strangers all curious to see his transformation, he took the Tromonia out of his pocket and spoke. "Today, my true self will be revealed. Jesus will be reborn within me and nothing afterward will ever be the same."
Then he lifted his hand up and rested the Tromonia against his heart until he collapsed onto the snow. Gasps and shocked faces surrounded him but his followers lifted him up and sat him down on a bench nearby.
Reporters asked him all sorts of questions when he sat down and appeared to awake. "Can you give a message to the people?" One person asked him and he answered: "Embrace the world and it will embrace you. Take all the chances you have been given, believe in what is meaningful. Do not disregard anything that is good because of fear. Do not let people make you believe that the world is an evil place. The world is beautiful, only when expression is repressed does it become tiresome and dull. Come with me, forget yourself. Follow me and you will never step an inch away from the right path."
“That's all we need to see,” Charlie stated and continued speeding through the roads.
“What's going on man!?” Max demanded to know. “You already know what's going on!” Charlie insisted.
“I'm god?” Max asked. “We're all God man just playing different roles! God breathes on you and you breathe right back but you're the saviour. Tromonia is the key to unlocking your true potential,” he spoke genuinely, offering him help, handing him a contract, a prophecy that he was agreeing to fulfil. As soon as Max skimmed through the pages he could feel that this was his destiny. His full potential awaited him at the quiver of his pen at the bottom of the page and so he signed and smiled proudly.
He woke up back in the room and quickly placed the Tromonia in the correct drawer, then sat playing piano until Hope arrived.
“You wrote any songs?” She asked him. “Yeah, I have actually,” he lied and played a short melody that Elijah had taught him the day before. Luckily, she had never heard it. “Does it have any lyrics?” She asked him and he brought her into his room to show her his notepad but now, he felt inspired and wrote new lyrics with her help.
Hope was thrilled by Max's songwriting, becoming increasingly proud of the song as they continued to work. Soon Hope's friends arrived at the apartment and Max introduced himself. One of them was at the concert last night.
“We've been writing lyrics,” Hope bragged to them and they giggled. He then played for them a nice meaningless song and they insisted he came to the party. “What party?” He asked. “The party!” They all laughed and guided them both through the dark streets to a large house in their neighbourhood. Though it was early in the day, it was winter and so it became dark around 6pm.
“This is Max,” they told the host, the son of a seemingly very rich family. 
The house was full of drunken people. “LA woman” by the doors blasted unapologetically, with many jumping around the room hysterically. The song excited him especially, reminding him why he loved music so much and wanted to become a musician himself. He picked Hope up by her hands and spun her around singing the words he barely knew.
Though, he still thought of Charlie, how could he not? He knew who he was now, he knew the great future he was destined towards.
Soon, he was pestered by many people who had heard his tapes and became fans. He had become drunk and blissful, slurring, “I'm so happy,” a couple times as people crowded around him. Hope had gone and so he talked of his experiences, and what he had come to know, in an attempt to turn his “fans” into followers. “We're all god,” he told them. “Just playing different roles,” which seemed to be an especially profound statement.
Then he talked of the wars that the country was fighting, and the corrupt politicians being controlled by rich corporations. “You know, the government takes votes on issues, yes? But, the politicians have a stake in companies and are funded by them! So of course, they're gonna vote in a way that benefits those companies, even if the bills are harmful to the greater good!” He'd never studied politics and never been interested but now he felt he had to be.
Many people started to listen at that point, and he talked of the future. “Jesus Christ will be reborn inside of me,” he told them. “And everything will be fixed.” These people who listened, they were either bored or desperate but he captivated them equally and planted the seeds of enlightenment in their soil filled minds.
Someone soon played his music through the stereo. It was quite a new song they played, and many people sang along. It was a utopian song; he sang of freedom and liberation. “Let's start a revolution!” He screamed when the song finished, and they all cheered, including Hope.
“You are not free, you see?” He talked to a few people in the garden afterward. “They make you think you're free while simultaneously taking the freedom right out of you. Stick with me people, I'll give you freedom.”
“Where'd you learn all this?” One man asked him, a cigarette in his hand and Max replied, “I can't tell you that yet, but I will.”
Another asked, “so, what are we doing? What's the plan?”
“Well, I don't know yet. Just stick with me, that's all you've gotta do, you're on the right path now. The revolution is absolutely going to happen, man. I see the future. I don't know how it's gonna happen and I don't need to know because it will. Everything we are doing is bringing us further towards it. On the 25th of December, it'll happen and it'll change everything. Your part of it now. You are making it happen by just turning up here now and listening. Everything now is exactly how it's intended to be," he sang out to all that were there with his hands dictating each word. He didn't think about what he was going to say and at first when the question was asked he thought he didn't know the answer but of course he did. He became more sure the more he spoke and so the whole night he let his words be free in every mind that was present there.
The host of the party asked Hope and Max to stay the night, and they accepted the offer. After the party, Maxs address was shared among the house and a few told him, “We're yours now Max. We will do whatever it takes for the revolution.”
“I know you are,” he would tell them, his arm around Hope. They were disillusioned with authority even more than him, some of them, looking to follow the truth. And so that night, through nihilistic drinking, they found it.
Hope and Max stayed in the guest bedroom. It was large with wood walls and a white king sized bed. She sat on the bed as he paced around the room enthralled in his own thoughts. “What's happened to you?” she smiled, he seemed to have changed vastly. “I saw the truth. I don't know if i should tell you how though.”
“Come on,” she begged. “You can trust me.” Her brown eyes were lit up and alluring. “I can't. I just can't. You're not ready to know. I trust you, I just can't.” She was disappointed but he lay with her and put his arm around her, turning the light off.
They were ready to fall asleep in their underwear, but he slowly pulled her closer to him and kissed her. They did not want to admit it to themselves but their bodies were closer than they'd ever been to any other person. The cloth from their underwear rubbed and Max even touched her soft bare ass and ran his hands around it. They did all that has been said and only that many more times. Frozen in a state of remorsefulness, their lips still touching and her hand on his back, they pushed their underwear together further. His penis began to harden as her velvet underwear propelled in and out of her delicate pussy. They breathed out of their nose and mouth heavily as they got faster, keeping their lips attached. His crotch felt damp but he had not yet come. As it got wetter, she moaned louder and kissed him even more passionately, licking his lips and around his mouth. Soon he pulled his clothes off and so did she and they pushed their bodies closer together. Everything was clear, the world and their minds. Soon it would be christmas and you could see it in the sky. The arms of the creator were preparing to wrap around the world and give their powers to Max. They tread along the right path, with each step becoming more euphoric. Max made sure not to cum until she had, so that she would want to do it again. No woman had ever done this with him and no woman was as beautiful as Hope. She screamed when it finally happened. Well, it was more like a shriek. She tightened her fist on the mattress, as if to make sure she did not leave her body, and clenched her teeth, letting out a prolonged moan. For just a second she had seen the right path with her own eyes, and everything afterward could never be the same. From now, she would wonder how she ever got by, living out of alignment with the universal mind. If she would've gotten drunk one day and stumbled slightly to the left, she would have understood all that there was to understand. She would have realised the trees, and the cows, and the sheep, and the water and everything afterward could never be the same.
“So, tell me more about your ideas,” she said when he fell back onto the bed. “Well,” he began and their conversation lasted hours. He told her all that he had learned with Charlie Manson, without telling her of Charlie Manson. She thought he was speaking in metaphors of course and had to infer his message from them but what she understood from it was still so meaningful and she continued to feel as if she was walking down the right path. And of course everything afterward would never be the same.
Now, he regarded his old self, himself before prison, as his best self before this one. That self  was delusional, sad and antisocial, but he was on the brink of greatness. He was no longer even concerned with fame, he wanted to save humanity from their own delusions. And that was him now, except this time these dreams and these truths would not be ripped out of him. They would be harnessed and used to fuel The Tromonian revolution. Wow he said it! That's the name of the book! It was a name that would make any old change sound completely profound.
She pushed her body against his again and from then on chased serenity in its realest form. For now she had found it under the covers, behind her eyes and in their breath, that had no regard for the past or future and no memory of who breathed it first. Just continued on bringing them further down the path of ecstasy.

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