Memoirs of a Timelord (17 page)

       "Meexon, if you are listening, we are coming with you, wherever you're going." Molly's voice rang out clear as a bell.  She really did have some pipes on her.

       Within seconds the only ones standing on stage was the host and Olav, the season's new champion by default.  Not that anyone noticed.  They actually ended the transmission before even bothering to crown the guy.  He got his recording contract, but within three days no one even remembered the guy.  T-shirts that said 'Olav who?' were more popular than the entertainer himself.

       So we started touring the planet, including the thirteenth.  At one time we threw together a concert called Rock Against War.  Basically the Colbai army was about to snatch some more territory with another invasion based on sketchy claims.  Meexon gathered up a few dozen other celebs and got us a flight into the region where we set up a benefit concert right in the path of the army.  With people flooding over the line to see this event (that turned out to be the Voh equivalent of Earth's Woodstock) the Oligarchy had no choice but to halt the invasion.  They were pissed.  The machine desperately needed more resources and we had just stopped them cold (and brought in almost a million Redbacks for charity.)

       We ended up in jail more than a few times.  Always some federal agent sniffing around, looking to record enough audio to indict us on insurrection charges.  Once we got locked up for performing in a bar that prohibited Dom.  The owner was okay with it, but the whole block was zoned as a clean-zone, free of those filthy Domulites.  I have to say, the Oligarchy musta really been rattled because their handling of the situation was clumsy and crude.  One time they arrested us in the middle of a concert.  There were seventy thousand screaming fans going crazy when they found out we were being carted away for unlawful integration. Those people left that concert and burned down the network's headquarters during the riot that followed.

       We were throwing a concert to help the Brudda in the second district when the end came.  I remember seeing the man with the bulky shirt approaching the stage.  My enhanced eyes could easily make out the blocks of explosives beneath.  Although I had known that this would be the inevitable end of our adventure, the Boss had kept the day of the event a secret.  Like anyone who had died before, he knew that we might be a little apprehensive about doing it all over again.  Like getting a shot with a big needle, or having a tooth pulled, we were sure to cringe if we knew it was coming.  To this end, we had been kept in the dark until the very last moment.  

       I just had time to reach out and take Meexon's hand before the blast ripped the world around us to shreds.  The last images of the band had been a perfectly framed photo of us holding hands while being flanked by Rex and Molly.  Within weeks the image became the rallying point for hundreds of grassroots efforts at government reform.  Other groups protested apartheid, the Oligarchy's unrestrained control, and the industrial machine's right to control their employee's lives.  I have to admit that I was surprised at just how much came to be from this simple talent contest.  We didn't end apartheid, but we got the ball rolling in that direction.  That was the DuNai way; to let the horse think it led itself to water.  While an individual could learn quickly, a civilization took generations to change.  In essence, you had to plant a seed then wait for all of the haters to die off.  With humans it takes about sixty years, but when you get done your civilization will have doubled in size.  At this point you are pouring so many enlightened souls into the Guf that it will dilute the previous generations of haters.  For every bigot you add ten enlightened thinkers to balance the blend.  That's how exponential population growth works in the Guf; it's like mixing up a perfect pitcher of lemonade.