by Ralph Rotten
"Bro, could you do me a solid and come back in like...twenty minutes." I gave a wicked smile before I realized Bara wasn't even there anymore.
Good, that frees up the couch.
The first competition was interesting. I had worked all week at mastering three songs because there was a chance that they could switch the requirements on us at the last minute. In the end I sang a popular Voh song that was just topping the charts. I knew I was good enough to stay in another week, and my ratings had been pretty good so far. Apparently I tracked well with men from the age of fifteen to fifty, so I wasn't worried. Two of the judges gave me thumbs up, but the record producer said I was wooden and stiff. What an asshole that guy is. Mebbe I'll leave a Baby Ruth in his coffee cup. That'd be something for the blooper reels, eh?
We were all feeling pretty good about our performances, everyone sure that someone else was going home, when Meexon stepped out onto that stage with a double-necked guitar strapped over his shoulder. Wearing a beat up pair of pants and a faded cotton shirt, he looked like someone on vacation. Quiet and unassuming, he gave the audience that charming smile of his before he finally spoke.
"I'm going to perform a song I wrote last night after we got back from the children's hospital. While we were there I met a little girl named Avalon, and she was very worried about her surgery tomorrow morning. I just had to write this song as my humble way to put a smile on Avalon's face and let her know that there are people out here pulling for her. This one is for you Avie." For the briefest of moments he looked directly into the camera before returning his gaze to the audience.
And with that he began strumming to the beat of an old Beatles song. What can I say, even without an Onkx the guy is a master showman, and he knows how to work a crowd. I couldn't help but marvel as he got those people worked up. By the end of the song the audience was singing along with a song they'd never heard before, that's how good he was. If I'd been wearing any, I'd have thrown my panties at him. Sure, why not? What happens in Voh space stays in Voh space, right?
To say that his performance left the rest of us in the dust doesn't even begin to cover it. Next to him I really was wooden and stiff. He dominated the whole stage. No band to back him up, just Meexon and twelve strings. His popularity numbers jumped through the ceiling before he even finished strumming.
"Please buy my song on the wire, all proceeds for the orphans of the Ninth District. Thank you all very much." He bowed humbly as the room erupted. With my DuNai eyes I could see that he was still saturating them with happy waves and some low frequency videodrone. I figured he had to be running low on energy considering his discharge rate during the performance, but he seemed intent on ensuring his last message was well received.
The next few days were hectic. They stuck us with a cheesy choreographer who would hammer us into some kind of a group performance. Sometimes it was an outright commercial advertisement; other times just badly choreographed filler. Anyhow, the numbers we sang and danced were terrible. Ever see a white guy dance? Now imagine that guy in charge of the choreography. I felt like the most technologically advanced, dancing monkey on the planet. All we were missing was an organ grinder.
So we had our second performance just a few days away when Meexon dragged me over to a corner of the studio where Rex and Molly were practicing. Now what you gotta understand about these two is that they were both pretty attractive people, but definitely not a couple. Rex was queer as a three-dollar bill, and damned proud of it. Molly was a blonde with a type A personality. Actually I take that back, she's a AA personality. Where others advanced, she charged. I liked her right away.
But he didn't pick Rex and Molly for their looks, although that prolly factored in somewhere. See, not only were they both very good looking, they were also quite talented. Between the two of them they played seven instruments and had perfect pitch. On the surface they looked like the total package, definite competition. Personally I woulda been trying to edge them out, but that's prolly why I was the trainee and Meexon was the expert. He told me later that he had no fear of them because when it came down to it; neither Rex nor Molly could write a note of music. They could play thousands of songs from memory, sing like Etta James, but musical composition was not in their wheelhouse. And truth be told, it is one of the rarest of skills among humans. If you didn't write it, then you're just singing karaoke.
So he pulls them in and offers to let them perform a couple of songs he wrote, in exchange for them helping out on a number he had planned. New rules this year allowed us to trade services and work cooperatively. Initially Rex and Molly are a little skeptical until they hear the songs, and then they're blown away. I tried not to laugh when I recognized Freddy Mercury's musical genius in the lyrics.
"You know you're in this number too, right?" Meexon looked at me sideways.
"Sure, I guess." I was a little scared of the prospect of whatever he had planned. "I'll sing whatever you need."
"I need you on base guitar." He nodded.
"Y'know, I don't even play regular guitar. Just FYI." I had to admit that I was never really musical. I could build a hot rod from parts, just don't ask me to serenade you.
"How did you learn calculus and trig?" He asked, already knowing the answer.
"I didn't. The Onkx already knows math better than Einstein." I spoke the truth. It had been one of the bennies of DuNai education; skipping math class.
"Here, play me Johnny be good." He handed me the Voh equivalent of an acoustic guitar.
I was shaking my head at the thought that I could play anything besides an air guitar when my fingers started strumming on their own. It was funny, but that revelation surprised me more than just about anything else I encountered in adjusting to my new life. I'd been in space ships, different galaxies, and had a morphic boyfriend who used to be Elvis, but the thing that blew me away was realizing that I could play any instrument I wanted. Music is math, and like I said, the Onkx knows math.
So Rex and Molly get astounding raves from most of the judges for their rendition of some classic Queen. That producer-judge guy told them that the real credit should go to the fellow who wrote the song because their performances were lackluster. He was an anus, always snotty and rude, but his critiques were usually spot-on. Most folks got so butt-hurt by the way he said it that they never bothered to listen to what he said. Myself included. It's hard to take criticism in any form, especially his.
I rocked the audience with a Susan Tedeschi song and the place went crazy. The judges ate it up too. Again the record producer said I did an admirable job with the song, but the real credit was in the writing. Keep in mind that these songs we're singing may be old-hat on Earth, but in the Voh world these are brand new hits, fresh off the presses. As far as they knew, these were all original compositions and all credited to the same source: Meexon.
Note: Technically, at this point in the timeline these songs are 2 billion years from being written, hence no copyright protection exists for the commercial use of these songs in StarElite. Ask any lawyer and they'll tell you its true, but make sure they specialize in temporal law.
So anyhow, last performance of the night. The four of us stroll out there on stage like rock stars. Rex is wearing drums, built into his suit. Molly has a MixIt board on her left arm, sorta like a complete sound studio in a little package. I have base guitar, and Meexon has his double-necked guitar.
Meexon shuffles out there to center stage and addresses the audience in a sorta hesitant manner. He had this unassuming way about him, or at least that's how he played the character. Not only was the guy a brilliant performer, but he was a really great actor as well. To the rest of the world he came across as this guy who could scratch out these songs, sometimes two a day, yet never lorded it over the other contestants. He knew intrinsically how to draw people in, even when they didn't want to be drawn.
"In a world of so much strife and hatred, sometimes it's hard to remember why we even get out of bed in the morning, so I wrote this son
g to remind each of us that the world can be a beautiful place if we wanted to make it so. Each of us has the power to change our world, we just lack the will." He spoke directly to the audience. It was his philosophy; never play to the cameras. Play to the live audience because that's where you got your energy from. Wow the studio audience and the televised audience will follow.
Think back and imagine the first time you heard a song that you liked right away. That sudden spark of interest, the desire to hear more as your soul gets caught up in the melody for the first time. That's how these people felt as we began singling Let It Be. Between the power Meexon and I were pumping into the audience, and the classic melody, we had them by the second chorus. I had taken over the background systems and was flashing a steady stream of images on the screens behind us. I used the Touch to hijack the lighting, sound, and video to ensure we had a perfect performance.
The applause was thunderous. It felt like we were throttling the Space Shuttle. Right then and there I understood just how fracking cool it was to be a rock star. I coulda cut glass with my nipples, seriously.
So, three of us exit stage left as the host interviewed Meexon before the judges. The former diva was drunk as usual and slurrrred about how great he was. The rock star was leering at Molly, and the producer was actually pretty sociable. He was all curious about the four songs we had each performed. Meexon admitted he wrote them all, and that they were all available for purchase on the line, 100% of the proceeds going to various charities in different districts.
About then the producer turned into a turd and said some chump stuff about how Meexon should keep his expectations low, so he wouldn't be hurt when it didn't make as much money as he thought they would.
That's when Meexon dropped the bombshell.
"Last week's song has brought in over four thousand for charity." He shrugged as if admitting their failure.
"Four thousand quid?" The producer asked, sure that it was likely even less.
"Redbacks." The barest hint of a smirk crossed his face as he watched the three judges all sit up. "I also transferred ownership of the song itself to a living trust that will dispense the proceeds to all of the orphanages in the ninth district equally for as long as the song generates revenue. Tonight's four songs have already been placed into trusts of their own, all for worthy causes. They are making money right now, as we speak." The collective gasp from the crowd could be heard when he spoke. Already there were people in the audience using their Ethernet implants to access the Line and purchase the song.
The next morning I got a note that the producers needed to see all four of us. So we show up in Yakov Delancy's office. He was the network chief, the big taco, HMFIC. Rex and Molly were blown away, but Meexon and I had been expecting it. We knew we'd just been invited to a shakedown.
"Meexon, I'll get to the point. The revenue you have been generating with these songs of yours is a clear violation of your amateur standing, and against the rules of the contest." Yakov was a big guy who liked to lean in close where he could intimidate people. Despite the CEO's bulk, Meexon was unimpressed.
"The contract specifies personal income or revenues paid directly to the contestant." Meexon knew the fine print of his contract well. In a few minutes they would find out just how well.
"It is revenue received for musical talent, a clear violation." The lawyer in an expensive suit made sure we knew our error.
Rex and Molly were a little shaken; they really thought we were busted. I could have flashed them with some calm waves, but the script called for them to be terrified, to better enhance the surprise at the end. The Boss knew what he was doing.
"I have never made a single dingo off of my music. Once I record the track, it is given directly to the trust for marketing. By the time the first payments roll in, the song has been in their possession for days. I have to obtain permission from the foundation each time I perform the song again because I no longer own it." Meexon relaxed in his chair knowing what would come next.
"Look, I had my legal team go over the arrangement, and it is our prerogative to dismiss you from the contest if the issue is not resolved to our satisfaction." The beefy executive tried to bore his way thru Meexon with a hard look.
"And you are suggesting...?" With the barest hint of a smile, Meexon opened the door for them.
"That this revenue needs to be funneled through the network on its way to a final destination. We want to be able to control the flow of the cash to its final charitable recipient, safeguard it to ensure it gets to the right parties. You are using our show to market your product, and we simply want a taste of that." This time it was Yakov's turn to sit back and relax.
"You could dismiss us, that is true. Foolish, but true. First off, current viewership is three hundred times higher than it has ever been. Additionally, my contractual rights are clearly spelled out in my network contract so I would be on very solid ground when I have my lawyers rape your network. For this much money, they would be crawling out of the walls, begging to represent me." Meexon paused to take a sip of the coffee in front of him. "No, you are not going to go down that path, and I am not going to cede control of those songs to your network so they can skim revenue intended for those who truly need help. I have to admit, your request and veiled threats have upset me. In fact I find your conduct such that I cannot consider us friends anymore."
Yakov and his lawyers gave that a hearty laugh. The only friends these guys cared about were Redbacks.
"And since we are no longer friends, there will be no more pro bono work for you." Meexon stood to leave."
"Excuse?" Yakov had an odd look on his face.
"You have been generating significant revenue off of our performances, and contractually we are due a portion of the revenue for all original works performed." Meexon took a last sip of the coffee before making a show of carefully setting it on the edge of the desk ever so gingerly.
"No it doesn't." The first lawyer insisted.
"Not wanting to affect my amateur standing, my revenues for my songs will be forwarded to this charitable organization." With a flourish, Meexon touched Yakov's desk. Immediately the address for a soup kitchen in Varga appeared on the surface, shoving aside all other documents. "The contract also dictates that the events you have been shuffling us to every day are strictly voluntary, so we four will be setting our own calendar from now on."
"Your contract does not specify any such thing. You're nothing but a singing shithouse lawyer." The attorney showed his open disgust as Meexon and I started towards the door. Rex and Molly were still terror-struck in their seats.
"I suggest you read it again." I gave the lawyer a wink.
Yakov laughed as he dismissed our claims. "We know what's on our contracts. They're a boilerplate; they haven't changed in twelve seasons of the show."
Once more Meexon touched the desk and downloaded a copy of his contract. A deft movement and he had the small-print blown up big enough for them to all read.
"What the frack...?" Yakov wasn't a lawyer, but he knew something was wrong with the flowery legalese he was reading. Behind him his lawyers were sneering at what they read. But the looks were gone once the network chief pulled up his own personal copies of the contract.
"What the hell?" one of the councilors was barely audible.
"Who the hell did this?" Yakov was aghast as he read further. "Who gave you this contract to sign?"
You have no idea how hard it was to keep a straight face as all four of us pointed to the lead attorney. Immediately Yakov was on his feet and mad as hell.
"You're fired! Get the zilch outta here! Now!" He pointed to the door as the lawyer objected.
"This is not the contract I used..." The jurist seemed truly perplexed, Voh secure documents were unbreakable. It was impossible to alter a document once the content had been locked. Or so they thought. The truth is, encryption is math, and the Onkx knows math. It was like playing Sudoku in Hexidecimal.
"Security! I need this son of a
bitch escorted out of my building, NOW!" Yakov shouted into an intercom app on his desktop before bellowing at his lead attorney. "Fired! FIRED!"
"We'll just let ourselves out." I gave a coy smile as I opened the door. Yakov had started shoving lawyers around when the four of us finally slipped out of the room.
And so it went, week after week, we four dominated the competition. Every performance better than the last. Meexon showed his true talent in bringing us all together into a precise machine. He just had this way about him; you wanted to do things for him. I shouldn't have been surprised when I found out he was older than Bara. The Boss had been using Meexon's specialized skills for thousands of years. Moving him from job to job, good ol' Elvis was easily the most-travelled musician in the known universe. Some of the memories he imparted to me thru MoTi were soooo funny. He had this one about him and him and Ann Margaret that I still laugh about. I couldn't help but idolize him to some degree, the guy really had talent, and he'd been everywhere. How many people have you met that could keep an entire planet in breathless anticipation? All the guy needed was a microphone and an instrument...any instrument, literally. People tried to test him by surprising him with odd instruments during interviews, but he never disappointed. If it could be used to emit a single musical note, Meexon could play it. It helped that he had a Timelord watching over the entire operation, so there'd be no real surprises.
Every day I was amazed at the level of manpower devoted to this operation. With my enhanced eyes I could spot every one of the Boss's plants. The odd thing was that very few of them were in prominent or powerful positions. Most of the cutouts were little roles like gaffers or publicists or legal assistants. The Boss's touch was light; just a nudge here or a hint there. Although I had read the entire Op order and script, I still was not seeing how our efforts would do more than introduce a bunch of old Earth music to the Borg. But Elvis seemed convinced of the plan, so I did as I was told and tried to keep up.