Music Has Some Soul

Music Has Some Soul

“Chez you seen that new artist that got generated again?” Tossed up Quincy, my computer-generated friend. 

“Yeah, another soulless computer program by ol’ Amazon playing on everyone's analytics, shame.” I put back at him mentally while walking away to my car. Crazy to think that about a month ago I was almost on top of the charts in the UK. Now, I can’t compete. 

The shoes on my feet slowly started to fall apart a bit. Laces were not hard to replace, however, who cares? I sure don’t, I guarantee all the people who heard my song on the digital marketplace don’t either. Trying to cling to any motivation had slipped through the cracks of my creativity when I sat down to my drumset listening to some old band. Guitars and all, crazy old school, I can’t believe that most people used to physically get out an instrument to play a song. Like my Dad's old Bluetooth speaker, crazy to see how we went from bulky hunks to speakers that can generate so much volume and fit in the palm. 

2088 definitely isn’t the year of the creator. The music I used to play on my digital Pro Piano Player Online that was so great with some auto-tuned vocals had been outclassed by a couple perfectionists who haven’t seen grass in multitudes of years. Technology is great, but it’s a burden on everything that makes one feel real. The thought of someone coding a program to exploit people's emotions and stomp out feelings in an artist is criminal. Father always told me to never lose passion. He played songs from Peach Pot and Saint Motown, or at least that's what I recollect of the names. Another band he couldn’t get enough of was the Arctic Monkeys. They were getting old when he was young, he said that every note was really physically recorded and played at concerts. His favorite song I do remember though, 505. I haven’t found it in forever though. Lots of people forgot, just as massive corporations and the world forgot about me. 

My last job was out of sheer service. I tried playing music for kids in the hospital on Robinson Sky Lane. One child, Daniel, reminds me a lot of myself. He watches all the old sports games on television instead of the playstyles of players being mimicked by machines. He loved watching basketball, his favorite player was Giannis Antetakumpo, he liked to talk about how he would have been a sports star if he played in 2020. Danny always asked if I had any physical instruments after I would get done playing a computer-assisted piece. Of course, I didn’t, but eventually, I wanted one, both for my own curiosity and for his. I bought a trumpet. Supposedly, it had a strong sound despite not being used in many retro pieces. After I had finished the last chord, he asked if I had bought one like I had said the week prior. As I unboxed the hunk of brass that resembled something of a poor plumbing job, his eyes lit up. I remember what flew out of his mouth exactly. 

“Is that a trumpet!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, I found it on E-Market,” I replied. “I know not how to play it though.” 

“Oh that’s alright I just find it cool!” He chimed with a curious tone. “Thanks for showing me!” 

“Of course, see you next week!” That was the last I had ever logged into the holo performer setup. The hospital said that they had new music performed by the Erie Tech bot Ruphus. Just another “charity” move to make the company look good and to reduce competition. As if I ever had a chance of getting popular after playing in the same hospital that I had performed in for months. 

Soon enough I’ll find a way to accept that my 10 seconds of fame was inevitably going to fail. Those kinds of thoughts are what pushed away Veronica. Although always trying to be a piece of excitement and optimism in my life, she hung up our relationship with a complaint of how she couldn’t stand someone who didn’t love the society that we’ve progressed to. Saying, “it’s all amazing isn’t it” was what she would love to say after we would go on our digital trips around the world. The favorite location of hers was someplace called Thunder Bay in the old nation of Canada. The hologram that was her favorite was from 2023, she loved sitting near the water and looking at the waves, of course, they were computer-generated and likely didn’t exist anymore as the Great Lakes had been sucked up and moved to underground hydration facilities. 

I really am alone though now. Even though the use of currency had been replaced, somehow classes still existed and people were still controlling and benefiting. Funny how what some call a utopia is just the dribbles that fell through the grate of those with all the control. I wonder what the newest technology will be tomorrow. That was my last thought before descending into the sleeping chamber of my private apartment. 

As being raised out of the pit and given the fluid sustenance through the morning food pipes in the kitchen, tech watch in the morning had announced their new technology being uploaded to everyone's government-issued holo experience centers. Now I could relive my old consciousness with some apps. It would never be real, but maybe I can finally find that song that my Dad liked to listen to, all of course while I sit on the coast of computer-generated Lake Superior. I supposed I would go on a walk before I tried out this new application that would most certainly make me feel something emotional again. 

Fithhhhhhh, the visual binoculars had sucked onto my forehead to begin browsing dashboards. I already had the app right there in my recommendation, I hovered my LED hand over the open button internally debating if I should do this. Surely, why not? I have nothing else left to lose. The program already had figured out what I wanted with 2 minutes of me exploring what this bad boy could do. My being was all of a sudden 14 and I was sitting with my father next to a disk-shaped player thingy. The opening organ and light words of the vocalist struck my being. Dad looked over and said, “hasn’t this music got some soul?” 

I instantly took off the goggles, saved the audio file, got out of the holochamer. My limbs crumbled in and a little tear dribbled down my cheek. I have nothing left, but at least now I can listen to the remains of what reality was. 

The End.