Prolouge: Arrival at Sonic State
I finally got to go with my old mangy Gear Boat by Mariner Port 6 which constituted the westernmost border crossing along a very well guarded border between the Sonic State. After an infinite number of questions of the tough gränsbevakarna about me, what I would do ?, I played an instrument? or was it that I had the ambition to perhaps learn to play? I could paint? or peace grooming? A lot djäkla culture-related question fuss plus my criminal record (which so far is empty). I said that it was, I'm technicians specialized in motors and lighting electronics and I come from the western part of "the Rest" and will probably always remain a technician and a "one-zero" a specialist in machine-produced intelligence.
Border guards at Sonic State has always been suspicious of everyone from "the Rest". Someone was going to take something into the state that represents a threat to the raised perfected the art and music. Artificially Created Sense or ACE, as it was popularly known, where the ingenious inventor and "one-zero" had succeeded in creating an artificial pulse vibrating and so that your mind became completely ecstatic no matter what you heard and saw. For those experienced this was difficult to stop. Chances that became forever dependent on ACE was sky high while the level of tolerance for how much you managed was raised to abnormal levels. It usually ended with a total collapse in which the brain was virtually melted and cooked. A beautiful death, some said, but normal music and art in general could create the same feeling and then it was completely harmless. All ACE dealers were punished in a merciless way. But first ship was the nearly hundred nautical miles in the cargo space in the detention boats to Isola Necro or the Dead island, as it was called at the general language, which was a volcanic island, still active where they had to work until the meat on their hands and feet burned away and then became the "recycled". Of course, provided that they survived the trip.
Perhaps the rigorous security checks for entry to the Sonic State eligible when all sorts of things that are done by attempts to "Mecca" to a place in people's heart and soul. The ingenious artists and musicians were seen as gods and the amount of "credits" which they earned went almost immeasurable. Another sure way to be deported from the Sonic the state was to breach the tough standards for art's live performance. Some said that the idea was that they were heading toward their own destruction. Art and music should be free and opposites are as important as the normative. But, what do I know about this stuff? Not a damn and do not care I for that matter.
My father was rustmästare and a dutiful Metal Forming producing handheld weapons. My grandfather I never knew. He died before I was born but the story says that he was a musician a really good one too. I had then not inherit any predisposition to this so no one in Sonic State needed to be worried that I would take their livelihood. Nah, I got to do that all the other techniques of Sonic State, I had to help the musicians to get the sound to flow, cook electronics to all sorts of cultural experience sets. What would the Sonic State to be without us "one-zero" ... nothing, I say. Inflated culture fanatics who have only the color smearing and happy gratings on the brain.
"Tribulation changed everything..."
Although it might seem swerving sometimes it seemed most people in the world accept this most remarkable concentration of artistic skills to a specific geographic location. After the "great tribulation" seemed none of the old-world logic to apply. Everything was so changed. Previously, people with different skills lived mixed and no one could then, far back in history, see or understand any purpose in protecting the artistic skills as a brittle duvägg. "Tribulation" changed everything ... In the rubble after everything that has broken down the world, people gathered together to survive when everything was a single chaos. "Concentration for the conservation of art" so read the slogan that had permeated the world for decades.
The arts were far from dying out as far back in history but the homestead after homestead in the remaining small world decided that the arts should be protected at all costs and they would be fed to flower as they once did. Then, once upon a time, people were so few that there were groupings of all the arts which had the goal in the world to bring the art form forward; musicians, singers, artists, actors, dancers, etc. had all their groupings that swore dear and sacred to preserve their art form.
Sonic State was in itself not particularly large because the rest of the world, nor was so great. In any case, not compared to historical descriptions of the old days. Historians thought that perhaps one thousandth of all the billions who populated the world since before survived after all the flooding, disease and the outbreak of war. Those who are not obsessed with any artistic skills were referred to "the Rest" that the rest of the world. As no one really had endeavored to give a dignified name for it, for the most part consisted of water. Sonic State lay partly on land and partly on water.
"Islands with speaker stacks
that surrounded the passage"
"The Rest" was not a bad place, in and of itself. There were all the others with all the skills that we humans need to survive. "You can not survive on art alone," my father would say as a clear nod to all the fuzzy super important artists and musicians who resided in the state with their heads up in the ass. Dad liked best growers, he used to say "-without them, you would not have anything to eat," but of course I was drawn to those who cooked things, invented the wonderful machines that kind similar to those they had in the old days. There, I came to my right, my creativity was more about measuring, counting and measuring and counting again. I was careful and proud of it. There was not a tool I did not recognize or mastered. Most of all I wanted to be Nautilist when I looked up to those who built the craft for the huge seas which are now covering our world.
I bobbed lazily past the few artificial islands with speaker stacks that surrounded the passage to the limit. They began to look a little tarnished after all the years in the wild. The technicians in their orange overalls standing on scaffolding around some stacks and curled up with something. The music echoed out across the border crossing as a clear reminder of where they had landed. The music that played urged all to listen and let the feelings flow ... typical Sonic State message. Art is the answer to everything ... Hmm, that if there are other things to worry about? Well, it was time to pull the shifter to the bottom of it was a 3 hour boat trip before I come to the mainland and the capital - the Sonic State Capital. A little funny that you never bothered to rename the city to something other than the Capital but on the other hand, "everyone knows the monkey ..."