July 2026. By James, Henry, and Matteo.
Narrator: The year is 2167.
For over 100 years a political collective known as the Noise Anarchists have been churning out harsh noise waves to confuse the generative AI models of Ticket Master. Modern music has now become an absurd blend of generated creativity and ear-piercing auditory accumulations.
Since the outbreak of Ticket Master’s generative monopoly on the music industry, entire catalogs of creative vibrations are stolen from living artists by cryogenically freezing their bodies to withdraw their talents at will.
Two young members of the N.A. Collective, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Duh, have infiltrated one of the cryo-factories for the purpose of fulfilling a prophecy of
questionable origin by freeing the one musician destined to save the Music Man.
Scene I - The Prophecy. Setting: Cryo-Lab.
Tweedle Dee: Are you sure it's the right one?
Tweedle Duh: Well, what does the prophecy say?
Dee: You know what the prophecy says... He who will save the Music Man...
*Sprinting past multiple cryo-musicians, they're in a rush, but stop to read the inscriptions on the plaques*
Dee: Vanilla Ice... Debbie Harrie... Robert Plant...
*Suddenly an ominous singing interrupts them*
Voice: All I want for Christmas... is... you...
Duh: What's that? Where's it coming from?
Dee: There!
*They track down the singing and peek into a window, seeing Mariah Carrie strapped to a chair with all sorts of brain scanning equipment on her,
singing out of pain and pure emotion while doctors in white coats observe and jot down notes*
Dee: *Appalled and curious* They're extracting her creativity...
Duh: Dee, what do we do...
Dee: Come on... We've got to find the One.
*They keep seeking, reading more plaques and come across the most prominent, extravagant, cool cryo frozen with his guitar,
sunglasses still on, over the top and obviously standing out from other cryo-chambers. Dee and Duh both gasp in amazement*
Dee: Bob... Dylan. 30 greatest hits albums. '60s revolutionary. Went electric at the Newport Folk Festival... one of the most profitable artists of his era...
*After standing transfixed for a moment, Tweedle Duh out of pure emotion yells and smashes the glass with a hammer. Smoke pours out, Bob Dylan unfreezes.
He falls out with his guitar and picks himself up slowly.
Dee: Duh, that was crazy! Chocolate sand... is he okay?
*Duh leans over and touches him*
Dylan: What do you mean chocolate sand? Don't touch me with your dirty hand. I can get myself up, no need for help. I feel so cold, so unlike myself...
Dee: Mr. Dylan... is it really you?
Dylan: *Remembering* Stop talking, I gotta tune my guitar. So many years in cryo, I used to be a star. 30 greatest hits, man I was so slick. 1967, year I went electric... I was revolutionary... and so profitable.
*Strums a chord*
And who might you be? The ones who've set me free.
*Tweedle Dee and Duh are stumbling over themselves in awe and excitement*
Duh: Mr. Dylan, it's an honor.
Dylan: I know it is, you boys calm down. Don't have to take a whizz.
Dee: Mr. Dylan, we're part of the NALCB, we've... we've heard stories of the One musician who can save us from the generative era and reclaim creativity for all... the One who can save the Music Man.
Dylan: Oh yea... I'm familiar. *He grins* I wouldn't turn down such kind-hearted fans. Yea, I'll go and save the music, man.
*Sirens start ringing, lights flashing*
Dylan: Seems the alarms are a ringin', must be time to go on singin'.
Dee: You're right, Mr. Dylan. We've gotta move fast. Liste, take these Time Rhyme Dimes. Ticket Master Police will be here any minute. You need to use these to travel back in time and find the Music Man.
Duh: Sing a little rhyme, back in time you shall be. Find the Music Man, let it be as written...
Dylan: Imagine that on my plaque... saved the music, man...
*He takes the coins and flips them, saying a rhyme as Ticket Master Police are closing in*
Take me away from this place, a different age in momentary space. Ah... The times they are a changin'...
End Scene I