"Johnny Cash, like Muddy Waters, was from the Southland region of Earth. As you can see, this was fertile ground for creative undertakings," said Zorbane signing off.
Chapter Ten
Help
Rock 'n' roll's got to be like a shot of Jack Daniels. You've got to feel it burn.
–Nikki Sixx of Mötley Crüe
In was late in the day as the sun began to set and Jericho and Haskell were putting the finishing touches on a new batch of "Clear Magic" (made from the magical clear waters of Natchez Springs) when Hubie came rushing up with speed they hadn't seen from the dog in some years.
"What is it Hubie? The feds snooping around here again?" said Haskell.
"I wouldn't think so. We delivered a case of shine to their office in Clarksdale," said Jericho.
Sensing the dog's super animated actions, Jericho put down the jar of moonshine and followed Hubie back down the trail toward his truck. They hopped in and drove off as Haskell completed the cleaning of the still.
Jericho opened his front door and followed his dog to a side room where his 27-inch Mac glowed in the fading light.
On the screen was Zorbane, waiting anxiously.
"Well, how in the hell did you pull this off, reaching me with Skype from outer space," said Jericho.
"It's a long science story, and you will eventually discover how we do this digital magic, but I need speak now quickly for we have the exact conditions needed for transmission only once a week; if we are lucky."
Jericho continued to stare at his monitor in a disbelieving mode.
Zorbane gave a wan smile of recognition. "We rely on sun spots and asteroids that we zap with data transfers as they pass by, so I'll be brief, as brief as your Earth bikini models in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit extravaganza issue that melts the snow," said Zorbane as he sipped on a straw.
Jericho sat down at his desk and looked at Hubie who was gazing into the computer monitor.
"After more study, I have come to the conclusion that in addition to broadcasting Earth music into our environment, we need some Juke Joint juice for our peoples' maximum enjoyment," said Zeon's one and only pirate radio operator.
"You're shitting me. You mean a planet way more advanced than us doesn't have alcohol?"
Haskell walked in. Jericho put his fingers to his lips.
"It was banned, except for some wines reserved only for the Shapers, and some watered-down beer for the agri workers, because, and I read: Alcohol has contributed to acrimonious exchanges that sometimes lead to fist fighting, debauchery, adulterous behavior, orgies, sleeping with strangers, loss of memory, public urination, karaoke, binge shopping online, wrecks, work absence, dehydration, and, in some cases, erectile dysfunction." read Zorbane, looking up from the paper.
"Dang that sounds like every Friday and Saturday night on Earth", said Haskell.
"Sounds like those Shapers took the fun out of just about everything," said Jericho.
"Heck, Zorbane, a galaxy away is a long way to ship our stuff, even though it would be fun to churn out the first intergalactic shine," said Haskell.
"I need you to send me your top secret super-duper moonshine recipe. The Mountain People can recreate your outrageous concoction sublime in secret and Trax can get it out to our people. Rock 'n' roll plus moonshine equals crazy fun," said Zorbane.
Just then the transmission coming over the monitor began to dissipate and fade in and out.
"We will pay you a percentage of sales," said Zorbane.
"How? You're a gazillion miles away," said Haskell.
The monitor was now lines and snow but the audio was still clear.
"Trust me," said Zorbane.
"Trust don't pay the bills," said Jericho as he rose from the chair and began pacing.
Haskell poured himself a tumbler of moonshine and swirled the clear liquid around, taking in the smell. "If he's got his act together, this could put a mess of money in our pockets, Jericho. A real game changer.”
"What is it your Terminator says? I'll be back," said Zorbane.
Jericho stretched his arms behind his head. "Well, I suppose you couldn't use it against us or sell it to our competition way the hell out there.”
Jericho looked at Haskell and nodded. Haskell sat down in front of the monitor.
"Okay, Zorbane, listen up good, and take notes. Here's the mix that's gonna let the good times roll on Zeon," said Haskell.
"You are doing a generous and wonderful thing for intergalactic cultural and business ties. You are pioneers like your brave poverty musicians," said Zorbane.
"I don't know about that, but like Haskell and I always say: no risk, no reward," said Jericho.
"Just make sure your folks drink our stuff in moderation," said Haskell with a smile. "We don't want your planet to explode or anything."
Zorbane stared at them deadpan for a moment. Then a wry smiled pursed his mouth. "And which rock 'n' roll song celebrates moderation?"
Haskell looked at Jericho and they both laughed. "Okay, here we go, gonna make your moonshine righteous," said Haskell.
And so it came to be that liquor was introduced to Zeon by Earthlings.
On Earth, liquor was reportedly first discovered between 800 hundred and 1000 BC. In fact, some say the desire for alcohol prompted the first humans to take up agriculture.
Zorbane's idea of introducing liquor to Zeon to precipitate a revolution is not without precedent. Humanity's love of alcohol has also been credited for precipitating the creation of democracy and the American Revolution among other epoch-shaping events.
Chapter Eleven
Zorbane's Choice
If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, then all possibility of life is destroyed.
–Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
Zorbane's uncle, Decleanus, is one of the most influential Shapers, the elite of Zeon, who manage the place as they like to say, "with compassion and vision," doing everything they possibly can not to become like Earth. In fact, the Shapers, through advanced electronics and astro physics, have watched Earth since the mid-1950s, when they first heard the sounds we now know to be rock 'n' roll. They are aware of the planet's physical beauty, as well as its temptations and pleasures. But they are put off by its unremitting violence and strife.
The Shapers play music on occasion, but it's more of a soothing acoustic sound. Doing anything on excess, or displaying too much passion, is considered the worst kind of behavior, and will get you cut off from the Shapers’ highly envied "Inner Federation."
Entering his office, Decleanus snaps his fingers and a monitor comes to life. Zeon's preeminent oligarch begins to dictate a note to be transmitted via Interpose, an electronic email of sorts that can be delivered into most devices, with no traceable return possible.
"My honorable Zorbane, this communication is from your great uncle, Decleanus. I hope this note finds you in good health, and most importantly, alive. My intelligence tells me you have visited Earth. I have no idea what you found there, but there is nothing that forsaken place has that we don't have. You don't know this, and this is Intel that only the Shapers are privy to, but for years those warmongering, libidinous creatures have tried to reach us through their archaic radio transmitters but we have wisely chosen never to respond to their pitiful sorties.
I implore you to return to Zeon, and take your place among your people. There are those who will want to try you for the very serious crime of ‘Culture Deviation’ for your ill-advised broadcasting of Earth music to our peaceful, rational planet. The punishment for that, as someone always first in his class would surely know, is a most weighty one
. However, my counsel can perhaps persuade the Inner Federation that you were unduly influenced by the strain of coming into contact with such savages that you are suffering LDS (Late Developing Suffering). In fact, I think that's at the root of your actions now.
On your broadcasts you proclaim the greatness of the individual, the so-called groundbreaking geniuses of Earth who rose up from the muck and slayed all convention and created these new sounds and ways of looking at the world. When we all know, and it is accepted thought throughout our universities and learning centers, that nobody does anything by himself or herself. They only accomplish things through the benevolence of our society as a whole. That is how Zeon became the peace-loving citadel of equality and abundance that is.
And you, my most promising nephew, want to bring this deviant, debased, and insidious cultural virus into our midst? For what? So they can listen to this crude cacophony of sound that creates emotions and feelings that lead where? To drugs? To alcohol? To idiotic and licentious sexual behavior?
From what we have observed, there are people like us on Earth, who understand the need for the very best of people to decide things for the less fortunate. In your ravings that you broadcast with such glee, you proclaim that the difficulties, the abject poverty that these so called musical geniuses endured, is what helped forge their creative outflows. You act as if the degrading environment that has always permeated Earth due to ignorance and unfettered greed actually helped to contribute to art. How preposterous! If I must, my operatives, for the good of us all, will track you down Zorbane, and silence your reprobate, antiquated ideas of individual freedom and debauchery.
I am giving you a choice, Zorbane. Come back to us. Come back to rational living, or face oblivion.
Choose wisely.
Uncle Decleanus”,
Decleanus then pushes a button and summons a minion who has been waiting outside the door.
"I want these Earthlings that Zorbane came into contact with to be dealt with, immediately. They are the ones who caused this strange Earth-like behavior from one of our finest and brightest," said Decleanus, who then grabbed a cloth and cleaned a speck of dust off his gleaming table.
Inside his ship, Zorbane read the message, laughed to himself, walked over to the table and poured himself some Clear Magic from his stash, and raised his glass.
"Here is to my father, who my arrogant poser of an uncle had disappeared because he possessed 'dangerous electrified' records. My mother agreed with Decleanus about father's subversiveness, for a nice sum of money of course, and here we are in the nice, safe doldrums of sanctified peace and harmony imposed by the Shapers."
“What was it that the Earth group The Who said? We won't get fooled again!"
Chapter Twelve
Dead Flowers
Music is your own experience, your own thoughts, your wisdom. If you don't live it, it won't come out of your horn. They teach you there's a boundary line to music. But, man, there's no boundary line to art.
–Charlie Parker
Meanwhile back on Earth, Haskell and Jericho are putting the finishing touches on a new batch of bourbon-based moonshine for the Kentucky Derby, where it will help oil the weeklong festivities.
"Well when you're sitting back, in your rose pink Cadillac, making bets on Kentucky Derby Day, Ah, I'll be in my basement room, with a needle and a spoon, and another girl to take my pain away," sang Haskell in his smooth baritone.
"Now what's that you're singing?" said Jericho.
"‘Dead Flowers,’ by the Stones, one of my faves," said Haskell as he swirled the clear moonshine around his glass.
"Well, you've got a fine voice, and, now that you mention it, I've heard that tune before. Now Haskell, you sing some good Philly soul for a white boy, but you're wasting your talent on that "Dead Flower's kind of stuff. That's just my opinion," said Jericho.
Just then Jericho held his hand up as he felt his smartphone vibrate. Haskell looked at him. Neither said a word.
Jericho's smartphone continued to buzz. He looked down at the glowing phone and smiled as he read the text. "Looks like we're finally in at Ole Miss. The SAE boys and the ladies at Kappa Kappa Gamma are going to throw a party. They each want two cases of our very small batch. That's a reasonable amount to get bat-shit crazy, I suppose."
"For a week," Haskell said. 'Ain't No Stopping' Us Now, he sang as he danced.
"Now that's my man, Haskell, Gamble & Huff, the sound of Philly," said Jericho as he did a pimp stroll.
They both laughed in the cool night air. They didn't notice that someone was watching them through a drone camera, miles away.
Chapter Thirteen
Somethings Happening Here
Paranoia, paranoia
Everybody's comin' to get me
Just say you never met me
I'm runnin' underground with the moles
Diggin' in holes
–Harvey Danger
Decleanus walked into his beautiful parlor, adorned by the latest work from Zeon's art colony, Ethereal, which was located near the Mountain Region.
He sat down and opened his computing monitor. The screen came alive almost instantly, and there was Everna, one of the "Select" scholars who had come highly recommended by the Shaper Council. Decleanus had come to find her indispensable. It also didn't hurt that she was easy on the eyes and gifted with a dry wit that always lifted his spirits.
He cleared his throat. This was a signal he was about to get on a roll, thought Everna.
"I just finished writing a note to someone who you don't know, I think, but being near his age, I must share with you the gist of my missive," said Decleanus with a proud smile.
He turned away to fill his glass and turned back to the screen.
"Everna, if they but knew it, Earth's glorious future is here, on Zeon, just a light year away. And yet my rebellious nephew, Zorbane, is obsessed with Earth's lurid music, created by the unenlightened of that broiling mess of a civilization, in particular, that planet's Southland. I find his actions and attitude wholly mystifying," said Decleanus into his glass of very expensive mountain wine, available only to a select few.
Everna smiled.
My, she is captivating, thought Decleanus. A man at my age being mesmerized by a 20-something. She caused him do things that were out of character, so to speak.
Decleanus swirled the wine in his glass, took a brief smell, closed his eyes and continued.
"It being the end of the day, Everna I wish you were here to enjoy this delicious wine with me. I'd like your insights on a number of issues that seem to be all the rage with our young people," said Decleanus.
"From the color, and what I can discern from the back of the bottle label, that appears to be a Mountain Claw, perhaps the Constellation XXX4," said Everna.
Decleanus reached over and turned the bottle around facing the monitor cam. It was indeed the wine she called out.
What gave it away, and she would never reveal her secret, was the color of the label and the fact he boasted to her last week: that he'd just gotten a supply of that same very rare wine.
"Well, you know more than any young person should about wine, I'll say," said Decleanus, raising the glass to his lips. Was he still attractive to young women, or did they flirt with him because of his power and wealth? One could never be sure with pretty, bight, ambitious women such as Everna. "My precocious one, have a delightful weekender and I'll see you in a few days," he signed off.
Over in the control room down the hall, communications sent from Earth were confirming the location of Jericho and Haskell.
Her work space cleared of her colleagues' Intel, Everna turned h
er monitor off as well. She then calmly brought out her duplicator, an unregistered device that allowed her unfettered communications anywhere in the Zeon Com Zone.
She began to speak slowly into her device.
Chapter Fourteen
Yours in Mayhem
Rock and roll music – the music of freedom frightens people and unleashes all manner of conservative defense mechanisms.
–Salman Rushdie
There's a hell of a lot of freedom in this rock and roll circus... it's where all the freaks go; it's the environment for me.
–Brian Molko
Poverty Rocks! (Rock n' Roll in Outer Space Book 1) Page 4