Microstory 2431: Melodome

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Don’t let the name fool ya if you’re interpreting the pun to be mellow + dome. It’s not about melodrama either. It’s the first part of the word melody + dome. This is all about music. Recording studios, concert halls, smaller stages, other interesting venues, and even sports stadiums where no one ever actually plays sports. This dome has it all. You can make music, listen to music, watch music. Every genre, every level of interaction; everything. No place like this exists on Earth. Even the cities known for music, like Havana and New Orleans, still had to leave space for regular living. This is the Music City, no matter what Nashville tries to tell you. There are some things that I’m not entirely sure about, unfortunately. When my great great grandparents were younger, they remember a trend where dead musicians were starting to be resurrected through holograms. This isn’t the kind of volumetric immersion that you’re used to in the present-day. It was very crude, and very obviously fake, even if you didn’t know that the subject wasn’t alive anymore. They recall being quite upset by this, not because it was macabre—which it is—but because it was disrespectful. These were real people who lived their lives, and then those lives ended. Before virtual immortality was invented, that was just what happened. These musical artists were immortal because of their legacy. That was what they were striving for, because they probably didn’t even guess at the future of life extension research. Their flame burned bright, but it was short, and that’s what was special about it. If you missed it, that was sad, but it was sad in a good way. The holograms robbed the industry of these artists’ authenticity, and sadly, that never went away. The technology kept improving, and the industry kept embracing it, despite pushback from the audience. There was evidently enough money in it, probably because of people’s morbid curiosity. Melodome has not shied away from this concept. They’ve brought the dead back to life using realistic androids. Not all of them are even dead, but living performers who just aren’t freaking on Castlebourne. I guess they signed away the rights to their likeness, but that doesn’t make it okay. I’m not going to name real names, but if John Doe can’t be here, then I shouldn’t be able to go to one of his concerts, and watch a convincing facsimile reenact his set from X number of years ago. I get that these are at least historically accurate shows, so they’re not merely contriving something entirely out of thin air. They justify it by saying that it’s like watching a recording, but I don’t consider that the same thing. There’s a lot of great things to see here. If you’re an artist, and you want a venue, they will find you one. I doubt the demand would ever surpass the supply. So if you’re a music fan who wants to discover someone new, you can do that. There’s always something going on, and it’s easy to find new acts on the dome’s prospectus, but there’s also this other side of it. They should really lean into the aspect of originality, because the reenactments are unethical at best. But maybe that’s just my point of view. You have to decide for yourself where your line is.

Microstory 2411: Party Central

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Party, party, party! All aboard, party people! This is where the party’s at! It’s Party Central! That is a great name, because it’s true. It’s January 1, 2500, according to the Earthan calendar, and Castlebourne is officially open for business! They’ve been in testing until now, and while a ton of domes are still not open to the public, a lot of the earlier ones are. There’s plenty to see and do here after the hard work of thousands of testers who were here on the frontlines, making sure that the activities and adventures in the domes were enjoyable, worth your time, and safe. Except for the residentials, all of the domes were shut down yesterday, and will remain that way until tomorrow. Everybody’s here, getting their groove on, and having a great time. We’re all in the main hall right now, but there’s a reason they called this dome what they did. There’s a venue for every need, every niche, every theme. It’s basically if you took the concept of every dome on the planet, and squished them down to smaller scale. You like sports? There’s a venue designed specifically for people who like sports. You can play sports there, and eat bar food, and talk about the sports that you like. I’m not into them myself, so I don’t know what it’s like, but I’m sure it’s great. There are multiple levels to this dome, so you can hang out in the sky, if that’s your thing. I don’t know what else to say about it. As of this posting, the festivities are still ongoing. Even when they officially reopen the domes, we’ll still be here dancing and partying. You know what parties are like, well this is the greatest one ever thrown, and it never really has to end. Come on down, and when you’re ready, go find your bliss elsewhere. Or stick around, I’ll be here. It’s my home, I see no reason to leave.

Microstory 2298: With All the Snow and Ice

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I’m writing this on the plane. I spent all day at the airport, because my flight kept getting delayed. There’s a big snowstorm in the east that I feel shouldn’t have much impact on my flight up to Chicago, but what do I know? The purpose of leaving one day early was to get a jump in the preparations for Nick and Dutch’s memorial, but it looks like that’s not going to do me any good. Still, who knows what would have happened if I had just stuck to my original flight tomorrow. Anyway, I bought the WiFi, and have maintained contact with the publicity firm and the venue. Everything is fine, and getting set up. A word of warning, we have not set aside any hotel accommodations for this event. People have been asking about that, and I totally forgot to tell you before. You have to work through that on your own. I’m sorry, but this is so last minute, and we have no idea who is going to come. Perhaps if we had taken more time, we could have done a lot more on our end, but at some point, it would have felt like a little too much. Sure, we have money, but that doesn’t mean we’re gonna spend it on frivolity. Nick wouldn’t like that. It’s not a party, it’s not a convention, it’s a farewell. And it will be streamed online, so if you can’t make it, it’s not like you’re missing out. We actually considered that at the very beginning, holding it in a very small venue, and letting other people be part of it from the comfort of their own homes. Thinking back now, he might have preferred that, because then we’re letting it be available passively, instead of expecting a large crowd. But it’s too late now, and I don’t want to dwell on the past. This is what we’re doing, and it’s going to go great. I’ll see some of you Friday. Until then (and even afterwards), stay safe out there with all the snow and ice. Trust me, I know how dangerous it can be.

Microstory 2295: Stress Out of the Process

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What I’ve learned is that the publicity firm that Nick was using to protect his life story from rumors and lies is no stranger to memorial services. A few of their clients have died while they were working with them, and their survivors can purchase a new package to help with arrangements. Some clients even purchase it ahead of time in anticipation, like one would reserve a burial spot in a cemetery because they know they’re gonna die eventually. Nick didn’t do that, because he didn’t even think to hire anyone when his health started to decline from the prion infection. Well, I think he did consider it way back then, but he didn’t have the money, and didn’t follow through until later. Anyway, I purchased the memorial package, so they’re handling everything. I’ll be signing off on all decisions, but I won’t have to think them up myself, which takes a lot of the stress out of the process, so I’m grateful for their help in this matter. Or perhaps they should be thanking me for my help, if they’re the ones taking point. I did secure a reservation for the Causeway Center in Chicago, though. It’s so last minute that someone already had the auditorium booked. Homes for Humankind and CauseTogether.hope have assured me that whoever it was was happy to push it back to another day, but it’s hard for me to imagine how that’s possible. That room can accommodate hundreds of people, which means that they have to contact hundreds of people to alert them to the change in dates. I suppose that’s not necessarily true. Maybe they booked the whole place for an audience of eleven. I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure out who it was, and if they’re really okay, but I can’t seem to find any information. You would think that an event like that would be advertising somewhere so customers could sign up for their thing instead. If you know what was supposed to be happening in the auditorium next Friday, shoot me a message. I feel that I owe them a thank you. In the meantime, I’m flying up to look at the venue this weekend, but I’ve already seen photos, and it looks great.

Microstory 1793: Conversion

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I don’t want to talk about the final moments of my life. They aren’t important. I have always felt that way; not about myself, of course, but others. Death is a scary topic that I don’t like to think about. My best friend growing up was fascinated with it. He liked to read about real serial killers, and fiction that was specifically about murder and mayhem. He owned one book about crazy freak accidents, and another that listed famous people’s famous last words. He started to write a book of his own once, combining these two concepts. It was all made up, and it wasn’t very good, but he was a child, so that’s not surprising. It’s what drove us apart. I didn’t like thinking about all that violence and sadness. I didn’t hate him for it, but the older you get, the more important it is to find people you have things in common with. We were just too different. Years later, I found out that he had rewritten that book as an adult; transformed it into something decent and marketable. I didn’t read the signed copy he sent me. It wasn’t just signed, he also wrote a personalized note, saying how much he treasured those few years we spent as friends. He hoped to reconnect at some point, but I never reached out. Again, I didn’t dislike him, but you know how it is. We both had our own lives. Now he’s the only one with a life, and mine’s ending. Man, it’s hard not to think about it when you’re dying, isn’t it? No. Life. What about my life? Well, after we drifted apart, I started getting more interested in music. I didn’t create it myself, though. I couldn’t play worth a darn, and I could clear the room in ten seconds flat if I tried to sing. I just loved the culture. I liked to get backstage passes, and I wanted to learn how the lighting system worked. I liked to see the performers when they weren’t performing yet. I didn’t care for the drugs, though, so I knew that I could never be a roadie.

I ended up getting a job as a conversion crew member at a large performance and event venue. Different bands and events needed the layout to be particular to them. I moved chairs, and stages, and booths, and everything you can think of, to make a unique experience for each of our clients. It was hard work, but I got a great workout everyday, and I enjoyed it a lot more than some of my co-workers did. The pay wasn’t the best, but it was above minimum wage, and my wife made more than enough to support the family. She was the best pediatrician in the state, and she never made me feel bad about having no ambition. I would occasionally get free tickets too, so that was a perk she would never be able to compete with. We had two daughters. One moved up to become the editor of a well-respected magazine, and the other is a foreman for a construction crew. I couldn’t be prouder of both of them. We all took it hard when their mother died. I could barely take myself to work in the morning. What was I going to do without her? Suddenly, as if sensing my pain, my old friend called, and told me he was looking into doing a major presentation for his new book in the area, and he remembered what I did for a living. I helped set up the deal, and he obviously gave us free tickets. We watched him talk to the audience from backstage, and I felt something change in me. I started to see where he was coming from, and why he was so intrigued by the idea of death. He was so good at explaining how crucial accepting death is to helping us lead full and healthy lives. I read his books in one week, and became a convert. Now, as I lie here on the pavement, blood oozing from my head, I’m comforted by the fact that I was happy.