Vinyl

AI Futures 4

1

“This Jimmy Caldwell thing,” said Kori, “you think that’s real?”

“Hard to tell,” said Luigi. He looked at the screen again, reading the words for the second time. The trees and the grey, low-hanging sky disappeared for a moment. The rest of the park, the bench, the wet grass, the overgrown concrete foundation in front of them, all of it vanished. The screen was his focus and his world for a moment. “I mean, it’s convincing. It could be real. Faded Union could definitely be a real classic rock band. It’s a believable name.”

“Or maybe,” said Kori, “some history buff did a search for a band like this a while ago. Maybe the System made it up because it fit the search, you know? Then it just becomes part of the landscape. We find it because somebody else looked for it. Because somebody else wanted it to be real, in a sense. How would we even know?”

“Maybe,” said Luigi. He waited until an old man had finished walking by between the bench and the pond before he continued. “Regardless though, it’s still a pretty cool story. Listen to this. ‘Jimmy ‘Gear’ Caldwell played a pivotal role in shaping the sound of British rock in the 1960s and 1970s. His work with the seminal band The Faded Union and his later, more obscure but more foundational albums with The Blues Monastery, left an enduring legacy in rock music, influencing generations of composers and performers.’ How cool would that be? I’d love to hear some of that Blues Monastery stuff. I think it’s probably cerebral.”

“If it was actually real,” said Kori. “I’m pretty sure it’s pretty cerebral if that’s what you’re looking for, anyway. Just tell the System that’s what you think it is, while you’re at it. The system knows what you think it sounds like now, so…”

“We can search for it right now,” said Luigi. “I’m sure it’s gonna be good.”

“I’m sure it’s gonna be good,” said Kori. “I’m sure it’s gonna be cerebral. But I wanna know if it’s real. Really real.”

“What does it matter,” said Luigi. “It’s a cool story, I’m sure the album is gonna be great. Maybe it’s from the 1970s, maybe the System is gonna make it on the fly. Either way it’s real at a certain level. It’s a good story. I’m enjoying it. I wanna enjoy it some more. Is that bad?”

“But I want to know if it’s history, is that bad?” said Kori. “Of course, now the System knows I wanna know if it’s history. This is hopeless.”

“I’ll tell you what your problem is,” said Luigi.

“Oh ya,” said Kori, “what’s my problem?”

“You’re an intellectual,” said Luigi. “Just enjoy it for what it is. History, whatever. It’s a sensation. Sense it.”

“I wanna know if this is true,” said Kori. “I wanna know the truth for once, with a capital T.”

“Sounds like trouble to me,” said Luigi. “With a capital T.”

“I wanna know if this Caldwell guy existed,” said Kori. “I wanna know if he felt the music he played. I wanna know if he had callouses on his finger tips. They got those from playing the guitar, you know? I wanna know these things. These people did real stuff with their hands, with their bodies. There was a physicality in their art. There was a reality. They didn’t sit in the park all day and collect their Minimum. They went out and they did stuff.”

“What if he didn’t exist,” said Luigi. “What if the system made him up? He’s real in the System. The story still reflects classic rock history, doesn’t it? The story is still consistent with the times. It could have been real. It has verisimilitude. It tells us something real, even if it never ‘actually’ happened. That’s how the System works. It’s the truth, even if it never actually happened.”

“Who’s the intellectual now,” said Kori.

“What I mean is,” said Luigi, “if we had to know if everything we read about the past is true, it would never end. It would be questions all the way down. Besides, it was a long time ago. It makes no difference now, anyway. Live in the now. What’s important about the past is what it tells us about the now. These people are all dead and gone. They can’t change the now, can they?”

“I wanna know if this particular one is actually true,” said Kori. “I like this Caldwell guy just from reading about him. I wanna get to know him better, and it would help if he existed, you know? I like this Faded Union band. I like the Blues Monastery already, even if maybe they weren’t cerebral at all. They sound cool. I just wanna know if all of this actually happened. And if it did happen, it’s part of why the now is the now, ok?”

“And you’re a romantic,” said Luigi. “That’s another problem with you. You’re an intellectual, and a romantic. You wanna feel everything. Maybe you can get callouses on your fingers. I’m sure the system can tell you how you can get them. Personally, I like my fingers just the way they are. They feel ok.”

They sat in silence for a moment. The buzz of a passing drone, high above the cloud cover, echoed through the park.

“Anyway,” said Luigi, “if you’re serious about really knowing this, you’re gonna need some paper.”

“I know,” said Kori. “I know. Where do we find paper. Nobody’s got paper anymore. It’s all gone.”

“There used to be this old lady,” said Luigi. “I used to go there. She had the house under the skyway, remember?”

“It was the last house there,” said Kori. “I think they forgot about her.”

“She had books,” said Luigi. “She had a lot of books. Maybe not about British classic rock, but she had lots of books. Old encyclopedias and stuff. The floor in the living room upstairs was sagging down from the bookshelves, I tell you.”

“Maybe we can go there,” said Kori.

“House was gone last time I tried to go,” said Luigi. “That was a few years ago. Maybe you can find some books near the coast, in the exclusion zones, you know, just digging through old basements and stuff. But ah, getting permission from the System to go there. Nightmare. They’re gonna wanna know why.”

“Forget it,” said Kori.

“Vinyl,” said Luigi. “You could check out some vinyl.”

“Vinyl,” said Kori. “Where do you want me to find old vinyl records. If they’re even real. Maybe the System made that up too. I’ve never seen one for real. I don’t know if you have, but I haven’t.”

“Some guy on the upper floors told me about this guy,” said Luigi, “down on Water Street.”

“I know your guy on the upper floors,” said Kori. “He’s nuts. Did you see he wallpapered his room with oak leaves? He says that way the System can’t read his thoughts. His whole floor is full of ants now. He’s coocoo.”

“Anyway,” said Luigi, “apparently, he says, this other guy he knows, down on Water Street, he’s got a collection in the basement of an old building that’s less bombed out than the others in that reconstruction area. Kinda hard to get to, but at least we wouldn’t need permission. It’s not an exclusion zone or anything. The guy’s name’s Winkle, or something.”

“Winkle,” said Kori. “Ok, well anything beats sitting in the park all day. I say we go.”

“Sitting in the park all day is great,” said Luigi. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah,” said Kori, “but I wanna know the truth.”

“Let me tell you,” said Luigi. “Sitting in the park all day sure beats knowing the truth. You gotta get up to find out the truth. You gotta walk around. You might even get some callouses on your fingers, or maybe the bottoms of your feet. You have to go into flooded out, bombed out, rat infested reconstruction areas. They don’t bring you food there. They don’t bring you anything, even if you ask the System. Therefore, I submit that sitting in the park all day is better than finding out the truth about anything. Sitting in the park all day, I submit to you, is the greatest good.”

“You’re definitely the intellectual around here,” said Kori. “Not me. No sir.”

Kori looked up at a dirty grey bird sitting on a leafless branch on a tree above them. “I still wanna go.”

2

Water Street wasn’t a no-go zone, but it was right next to one. It probably should have been one.

“You never know when the drones are gonna show up around here, asking questions,” said Luigi. “It’s just one more thing to worry about. I don’t even know why we’re here.”

“We’re here to find out the truth,” said Kori. He stepped over some rubble, broken chunks of concrete with steel snakes poking out of them. “It’s right there.” He pointed at a long, low, featureless building. When they were beneath one of the shuttered windows that dotted the upper floor, he stopped. “Winkle!” he shouted.

He waited a moment. “Winkle!” he shouted again, louder.

Luigi kept an eye on the grey sky above them. The sound of a rusty bolt gave a dull echo behind the shutters. They creaked open. Winkle’s pale, white-whiskered face looked down at them, like a ghost from the old world. From the Before.

Winkle looked down at them in silence. A small dark shape scurried along the front of the building to their right. It could have been a rat. It could have been a drone. They kept their eyes on Winkle.

Kori spoke. “We’re looking for an old vinyl album.”

Winkle frowned. “I got a permit for this analog collection, you can go away now.”

“We’re not inspectors,” said Kori. “We just wanna find an album.”

“That’s what the damn inspectors said last time,” said Winkle. “I’ve got a special temporary dispensation. The System says that’s as good as a permit. Go away.”

“It’s classic rock. British. Late sixties,” said Kori.

“British,” said Winkle. “Late sixties.” He paused. “Why are you looking for this album, exactly?”

“We don’t know if it’s real,” said Kori. “The System told us about it, but I wanna know if it’s real. I wanna know if it’s made up.”

Winkle put his hand to his forehead and then ran it through his long white hair for a moment. He stepped back from the window and closed the creaky shutters. The rusty bolt echoed again inside the building.

“Let’s get outta here,” said Luigi. “I don’t like this.”

“No, no,” said Kori. “This is a good sign. I think he likes us.”

“I have a sudden urge to go sit in the park,” said Luigi. “Let’s go. I think I hear something over those clouds.”

A low door opened on their left. Winkle poked his head out and looked at them. “Tell me more.”

Kori grabbed Luigi’s arm and pulled him toward the door. They stepped into the dark corridor. Winkle closed the door behind them. That’s when the damp hit them. And the decay.

Winkle led them down the low hallway to a small room with an old desk and a few chairs. They could feel shreds of wet paper under their feet, all over the floor. Winkle sat on the desk. It didn’t collapse. They could barely make out his face in the darkness. There was hardly any light. Luigi was now holding on to Kori’s arm.

“It’s this guy Jimmy Caldwell,” said Kori. “He’s supposed to be big in British Classic Rock. The System says he was in a band called The Blues Monastery, and they have an album called Electric Dawn. Supposed to be 1968. Really classic stuff. Kind of obscure, but impactful, you know? Super influential, but not many people knew about it.”

Winkle got back on his feet. He walked to the back of the room. Kori tentatively followed his dark shape, guessing at the way, Luigi hanging on to him. Winkle opened a door at the far end of the room. Light streamed in.

They stepped onto an iron balcony connected to a catwalk. Below them, to the left and right stretched a long room, two stories tall. Above them a peaked glass ceiling of frosted panes joined by rusted iron risers. On the floor of the room below sat long rows of shelves packed with vinyl albums, their sleeves in various states of decay.

“If it’s in here,” said Winkle, “it’ll be on the left, toward the far end of the room, on a lower shelf, somewhere near the floor.”

Kori looked at the collection below. “Do you know the album?”

“Never heard of it,” said Winkle.

“What about the band,” said Kori, “what about this Caldwell guy?”

“Never heard of’em,” said Winkle.

“How do you know where it is, then,” said Luigi.

“Well,” said Winkle, “the records down there. They’re in the order I put them in.”

“But you don’t know if you put that one in,” said Luigi.

“No idea,” said Winkle. “But if it’s here, it’s in that corner over there, low to the floor.”

“Maybe you have some kind of a catalogue,” said Luigi.

“I sure do,” said Winkle without looking at them, tapping the side of his head.

“And you don’t know if that one is in your catalogue,” said Luigi.

“No idea,” said Winkle.

“Let’s just go see,” said Kori.

“Stairs down into the collection are to your left,” said Winkle. “They can be tricky. But you get used to it.”

“That’s a lotta stuff,” said Luigi.

“Let’s go,” said Kori. “There could be some cool stuff down there.”

“There’s some cool stuff in the park,” said Luigi. “I didn’t see the ducks yet today. And we can get food there.” He followed Kori toward the black iron staircase.

Kori tested the first step down toward the floor below. It shed some rusty dust. It held. He went down a couple of steps. He stopped while the staircase swayed a bit and creaked. When it had stabilized he went down to the floor.

Luigi waited for Kori to be down below before he stepped onto the staircase.

“That’s a good idea,” Winkle shouted after them. “It’s good to wait. I’ve never tried two people on that staircase at the same time. The albums near the floor could be in rough shape. There’s some recurring flooding issues in this area. The System says it’s gonna get worse, too, before it gets better.”

Luigi finally made it down. The floor was caked with wet dust. “I don’t know, this place is not great.”

Kori moved toward the far corner, keeping his eyes on the lower shelves. “You can see where the flooding comes up. It’s about halfway up the lowest shelf. Look at that greenish yellow line on the album sleeves. Like the edges of the pond at the park.”

“Disguisting,” said Luigi. “What am I even doing here.”

“Looking for the truth,” said Kori.

“Even if it’s not there,” shouted Winkle from the balcony, “It doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

“We’re basically here for nothing,” said Luigi. “What are the odds it’s gonna be here, even if it’s real?”

Kori was at the far wall, as far as he could go. “Let’s start here. I’ll take the lower shelf, you take the next one up.”

“I don’t like the feel of these things,” said Luigi. “The paper’s slimy. I can’t pull them out from the shelf, they’ll fall apart. How am I supposed to look?”

“Just pry them apart a bit,” said Kori, “like this. Then you can see a bit of what’s on the cover.”

Winkle’s voice came from above, deadened by the rotting paper and cardboard all over the shelves. “Album covers used to be a big thing. Very important.”

“What are we even looking for,” said Luigi. “We don’t even know what this thing looks like.”

“I don’t know,” said Kori. “It’s probably got some kind of writing on it, like the album title, or the band name. We can’t ask the System what the cover looks like right now, we’d have to get out of this area first. Let’s do what we can.”

“This is stupid,” said Luigi. “It’s hopeless.”

“There’s always hope,” said Winkle from above. “Never give up hope. The truth is down there, whatever it is.”

“I can’t even read most of these,” said Luigi. “They’re too faded. The sleeves are bloated from the water.”

“Here’s an interesting one,” said Kori. “Ginger Baker’s Air Force. Never even heard of this.”

“That’s real,” came Winkle’s disembodied voice. “That’s the real stuff. Now you’re getting somewhere. You’re starting to see the flow.”

“Isn’t that the Cream guy”, asked Kori. “The System talks about them all the time. I’ll have to ask,” said Kori, “I want to hear this at some point.”

“Bring it up when you’re done,” shouted Winkle.

“I read about this Baker guy,” said Luigi. “He played drums in Cream. The system says he was on one of the first Moon landings, too.”

“Moon landings,” said Winkle from above. “What Moon landings? Don’t believe everything the System tells you. The System lies. The paper, the vinyl, that’s where the truth is.”

Kori carefully extracted the album from the shelf. The sleeve survived the operation. They kept going down the shelves toward the staircase, inspecting the most inspectable records. Many of them weren’t inspectable at all.

“Look up on the top shelf,” said Winkle. “There’s an album, white cover with some red designs, some blue, some green.”

Kori stood up. “I think I see it.” He read the faded words, slowly. “Sun Ra and his Solar Arkestra visits Planet Earth.”

“That’s the one,” said Winkle, his voice really alive for the first time since they had arrived. He was shaking the frail railing in front of him. “That’s real. That’s the historical truth. That’s where The Air Force get their stuff. That’s how you find what’s real. You follow the currents. One thing flows into another. The System can’t do that. The System doesn’t see the flow. It can’t see it at all.”

“We’re not gonna find it,” said Luigi. “It’s not here. Or maybe it’s just in that pile of mush, but we’re not gonna find it.”

“You’ve found something real already,” said Winkle. “You’ve found it.”

“Yeah,” said Luigi, “but we’re looking for that one thing.”

“It doesn’t matter what you find,” said Winkle, “as long as what you find is real. You’ve found it already. You’ve found the flow. That’s what really matters. Now you follow it, wherever it takes you.”

When they’d found their way up the rickety stairs to the catwalk with their two albums, Winkle led them to a large room on the second floor. There was a bed in there, and some plush chairs, surprisingly not too rotten.

Kori pointed to a large contraption in the corner of the room. “Is that an old fashioned bicycle?”

“I’ve seen those on the System,” said Luigi.

Winkle pointed one finger at the ceiling and tossed his long white hair. “A stationary bicycle! Watch.”

He got on the bike and started pedalling. A lamp flickered, then glowed near the bed. “I use it for power. The System doesn’t send any to this area. We haven’t had any in a long time. Let me pedal for a little bit, and then we can listen to your precious finds, and see how they flow into one another. This is the real stuff. This is the historical truth.”

When Winkle had pedaled for a while, he got off the bike, more mobile than he’d been at any time since they’d arrived. He moved quickly to a box in another corner of the room. He opened the top of the box and urgently motioned for Kori to bring him the albums.

As soon as he had them in his hands, his demeanour changed. He laid them on a small table next to the box. He picked up the Sun Ra and reverently extracted the record from its sleeve. He gently laid it down flat at the bottom of the box. He operated some controls that Kori and Luigi had never seen.

A dial lit up. A warm scratching sound that seemed to emanate from the walls, like soft footed rats, filled the room. The music began, like on the System, but more real. More immediate. More vibrational. Winkle sat on the floor, ignoring the chairs. Kori and Luigi joined him.

“This is the stuff,” said Winkle. “This is the truth.”

“We still don’t know about Jimmy Caldwell,” said Luigi.

“But now you know about this,” said Winkle. “You know a bit more of the truth.”

Kori closed his eyes and took in the music.