Another possibility was that mechs would move to AI control and continue the mission. People generally didn’t like this setting because it usually ended in a destroyed mech.
A third possibility was that the mech would just stand in place and shut down.
All of those would cause chaos, and it was happening right now.
Still, it wouldn’t be enough. We all knew that.
“I’m ready when you are,” Rosita said. She had her personal drone floating by her head. On her bracelet, she had three windows up, each of them with the note “Ready to go live?”
“Not yet,” Lulu said. “We’re doing one song for our people, and then we’ll go live. This first one is an old, old cover, and we don’t want to get a copyright strike before we even get started.”
“Gentlemen,” Sam said, looking at us each in turn, “and ladies, it’s been a pleasure.”
I first met Rosita’s eyes, then Lulu’s, and I nodded.
In our entire set, we had only one song that was a cover. Eventhough the song was literally hundreds and hundreds of years old at this point, the rights were still owned by RUSCAP, which would cause any feed to get muted should any version of their songs hit streaming platforms. Even if it was a cover. The whole thing was a little ironic in my opinion, especially considering the subject matter of the song, but that didn’t change the fact that the song was still owned and licensed by a music company, which had campaigned endlessly for centuries to hold on to the rights of songs that should’ve long ago entered the public domain.
So we compromised and decided to play it first before we went live. This would be for Mrs.Serrano and all the others down there in the yard who claimed they wanted to see us play. That way, when it was done, they could go back to the bunker and then on to safety.
“We are the Rhythm Mafia,” Lulu said into the microphone. “But we are more than that. We are New Sonora. This is our home, and we are going to fight for it.”
Her voice was like that of a god. It echoed across everywhere and everything. We had printed speakers to duplicate the already powerful PA system seeded throughout the peninsula. The sound would rival that of the biggest concerts ever made.
I counted in the song with the hi-hat, and Tito, Axel, and Sam, all hopping up and down, came in together with the riff.
I knew the sound was enormous. I wished I could have stood in front of the PA. We’d have to settle for the monitors, the speakers on the floor, facing us. But even that was exhilarating. I could feel it in my chest.
I could play this song in my sleep. I kept my eyes on the small video monitor showing the yard and those on the wall, all of whom had turned to look up at the stage. This sort of heavy, high-energy, guitar-centric music wasn’t very popular anymore. Not here, and not on Earth. Still, they watched, and they all cheered, several holding their guns in the air. Tito and Axel’s grandmother had her arms up also.
The song was from the late twentieth century. It was called “Guerrilla Radio” by the band Rage Against the Machine.
Lulu swayed to the music, and when it was time to sing, she put everything into it, belting the angry words, shaking her fist, screaming.
We hadn’t even practiced this one in a while, but it was as if she’d never left the band.
We played, and we played, and it was everything I had hoped it would be.
No, we weren’t very good. There was a whole part to the song we couldn’t accurately duplicate because we didn’t have proper effects for the guitars. Sam’s upright bass made it difficult for him to play it accurately. My kit sounded muffled and strange. As much as I loved my sister and as much as I would never, ever tell her this, she was always a little off-key.
And none of it mattered.
Not to the Rhythm Mafia and not to those who paused their war preparations to watch us play.
The music filled me with energy. And when we were done, the crowd all seemed to cheer, though I couldn’t hear them.
“We love you all,” Lulu said into the microphone. “Now, everybody down there get inside. It’s time to play for the rest of the galaxy. And, uh, anything I say from now on is not directed at you guys.”
“Ready?” I asked Rosita, who nodded. She pressed something on her bracelet.
“We are now live.”
I started a beat with my foot.Thump, thump, thump, thump.At this moment, we were now streaming on multiple platforms. Lulu’s Real-Friends. The band page. The goddamned page for the pig and the magic chickens. It would be a bit before we played our next song, but I would keep the beat going until it was time.
“Is there anybody out there?” Lulu asked, speaking into the microphone.
“Time to onboard,” the message on my bracelet said.
I hit the snare once, letting the rest of the band know I was going in. I hit the looper to the right of my foot, and the bass beat continued to thump without me.
