When he was much younger Adlai hadn’t minded having to go to church. It was boring, but it was an adult kind of boring, above him, something he had yet to grow into. No-one expected him to pay attention, which left him free to discover the hymns. Hymns were fun. You could sing as loud as you wanted and people would just smile and nod at you. Of course, you had to be careful to get the words right, know when the verse segued into the chorus, know when the whole thing ended. You didn’t want to be the guy left screaming out a note when everyone else is already on their way back down to their seats, having to watch it echo around in the silence, looking for a way out.
Adlai always kept his eyes planted firmly in the hymn book. Soft leather cover, pages so thin they felt like layers of skin between your fingers, metallic red paint on each page’s edge so that when you finally closed it all you could see was a blood red band between the covers.
And when things were boring, when the priest was droning on and the choir had sat down, you could flip through and play the songs in your head. Read along and escape from reality.
As he got older he learnt of religions where music was banned altogether. That made no sense at all. Music was one of the few truly spiritual acts mainstream society encouraged.
Certainly the corporate world seized on the idea early. TV, radio, advertisements, they were all awash with music, grabbing the listeners attention, forcing their thoughts down particular channels, twisting their emotions to suit whatever mood was required. Worming their way into your head and staying there, till you found yourself humming advertising jingles while you washed the dishes.
Music was powerful. Every second person you passed on the street had phones slotted into their head, playing their own personal soundtrack, changing the way everything was viewed and experienced, no longer even pretending to share the experience of life. It was only natural for VR to use the same techniques.
Soundtracks were loaded through the data ports themselves. There was no need for headphones, the entire world was encased in whatever music you, and increasingly others, had chosen. Each user experienced the world with their own spin, seeing the same thing differently.
It went altogether too far for Adlai. This great chance they had, this opportunity to reflect on the spiritual side of life, of getting back to what it meant to be alive, the ability to become heroic, it was all washing away down the drain accompanied by a happy tune.
There had to be a way to fight back. The answer came to him while lazing on a beach, watching the crystal clear waves break at his feet. He was listening to his music, getting a sun tan. It was time to leave, to get back to creating other such places for users to reflect in, just as soon as this song was finished.
And that was it. The idea sprouted and grew into every other part of his brain. Music heads to an end, a closing. It’s like a story, like sex, you need to reach an end in order to feel satisfied. Like life itself.
Use the music as it could be used, as a virus creeping into the user’s mind, hitching a ride in, worming its way from link to link into the Grid itself. Get it stuck in their head like a primal fear, use it to open the gate to the citadel and then bring all the walls crashing down around them.
Music was the key to open every door.
