Static

Static

Focus...focus...

Look at that candle, that'll help.

No, it hurts, light flickering, changing too much. My head is
throbbing, like something is inside pounding to escape, through my
eyes, through my nose, I'm trying desperately to block it out...

Shit, is that panpipe music I can hear? Oh no, it's too late...shit,
I'm sorry, please forgive me...(static on the monitor).

Static sound. The two men looked at the monitor for a moment caught in
the monotonous drone of the static, somehow hypnotic. Brane shook his
head noticing what he was doing, he broke the monotony, 'so what do you
think Anthony?' The other man looked at him, his face ashen grey and
weathered, 'what do I think? I think you already know.' He turned
away from Brane and moved towards the door, turning back with the same
expression, 'We're doomed.' Anthony left the room, footsteps heavy.
Brane sighed, he leaned back on his chair looking around the dark room
he occupied as if taking it in for the first time. The walls seemed to
be held up by dust, battle weary would be how he would describe it but
he wasn't sure how appropriate that was. Brane flicked the switch on
the monitor to kill the static; the low thrum of machinery took over.
The wheezy organs of the instillation pumped air from the surface.

Brane wasn't sure what would be worse, being up there, like them, or
stuck down here in this claustrophobic tomb with Anthony. There were
others once; the instillation had enough room for fifty people to
sustain themselves for up to four years. Originally built as a nuclear
bunker in the cold war days, Brane chuckled when he thought of the real
threat that had conquered the world. Oh how foolish they had all been,
nobody saw the signs, they just thought it was some sort of popular
fad, then maybe a harmless cult. Who would have thought music could be
so damaging, no one human anyway. Trust those alien shits to come up
with something cunning like that. Now it was just Brane and Anthony,
he laughed at the irony, the two people who got on the least in the
whole group where the only ones left. Even before any of this happened
they hadn't got on, Anthony just didn't seem to get Brane's sense of
humour, too uptight Brane thought. Where was the harm in putting deep
heat in someone's underwear?

Julian had been there last hope; he had lived up there for the longest
amount of time, Brane and Anthony had just assumed that he was immune
to the virus. They were wrong and Julian had paid the ultimate price,
he was one of them now. Probably wearing his pauncho and playing his
panpipes right now. Brane sighed again and got up to find Anthony,
they would have to talk about it, decide what they were going to do.
They still weren't completely sure how the virus took hold, or why the
victims displayed such bizarre behaviour before they died. Obsessive
listening to panpipe music, the need to wear a pauncho and dance in
public where all sure signs the virus had taken hold. Harmless enough
except for the fact that the victims ceased to be self-sufficient so
they slowly starved to death, happy in their own delusion. Some were
able to make a little money before their deaths, or at least in the
early days, when everyone still thought it was just a new trend in the
busking culture. It started with people noticing that every town
centre in the world had a group of buskers playing panpipe music,
seemingly endlessly. But it was when the ordinary people of the towns
started joining the buskers in their music that the governments became
suspicious, at first they just assumed it was a harmless cult, by the
time they had figured out how dangerous it was it was already too late.

A few months after the first followers where noticed most of the worlds
population was infected, happily listening to music and dancing in town
centres everywhere. That's when the deaths started, starvation mostly,
but there where also a few cases of accidental death, falling into
rivers and such like, too busy dancing to panpipes to notice. Some
people resisted longer than others and they decided that it must be a
virus, the world was in chaos, governments in ruin and still nobody
really knew what was going on. Brane, Anthony, Julian and a few others
had worked in the electrical substation linked to the nuclear bunker.
They had been out of the way enough to panic first before thinking what to do; they had bunkered up four months ago and since then six of the
group had dropped to the virus. Anthony had been in charge at first.
He had the neatest tie and the biggest bunch of keys so he was the
automatic choice. His cool officious exterior hadn't lasted long
however; he had never really mixed much with the others and his
coolness led to rising heat. After four months of Anthony's uptight
ways even Brane was beginning to loose his sense of humour, something
had to give and it did, a group of four had left the complex to see
what had survived, they didn't come back. Then Julian and Cooper had
gone to search for them; they found them, dancing in Swindon town
centre, panpipe music blaring over the tannoy from the local shopping
centre. Julian and Cooper came back, but Cooper wanted to dance, so
they sent him out again then sweated over catching the virus from him.
Julian had seemed ok, that's why they let him go out again, test the
water. Brane and Anthony had just assumed that Julian was immune;
obviously they were wrong.

Static on the intercom...that was Anthony trying to call Brane. Brane
leaned over and flipped the switch, 'Hello, Anthony.' No answer.
'Anthony?' Brane flipped the switch again, 'Hello Anthony? Are you OK.'
A faint voice appeared through the static, 'Brane, Julian's back and
he's brought us something.' Brane looked confused, 'OK Anthony, I'll be
right there.' As he left the room he thought he noticed another faint
sound in the static, a worrying thought crossed his mind, 'is that
panpipes?'

Anthony was pleased, happier than he had ever been. He felt free; he
felt like a weight had been lifted from him, suddenly he saw everything
in bright colour, like the sun was shining all around him. Somewhere
in his sub conscious he knew this was wrong, they were underground, the
power was running low, everything was dark, dusty, yet it just didn't
feel like that, look like that, not anymore. Julian was grinning at
him ruefully, He was sitting at the table tuning his guitar. What a
great gift he had brought, Anthony had always wanted to play the nose
flute, and wouldn't Brane be pleased when he saw his panpipes. Brane
came through the door, looking worried, Julian and Anthony smiled up at
him vacantly. Julian spoke first, 'Look what I've found Brane. It's
the answer to all our questions. It will all make sense with this.'
Brane looked at Julian, he was holding a pauncho and some pan-pipes up,
a confused smile spread across his face; at the back of his mind Brane
knew something was wrong, it was just that he couldn't remember what it
was. That music playing through the intercom was just so catchy, he
felt so happy, so warm, and safe for the first time in his life. Brane
smiled more securely now, he put on his pauncho and picked up his
panpipes; for the first time in his life he knew what he was doing was
right. The three friends stood up, instruments in hands, and began to
play. He didn't know how but Brane found that he could play the
panpipes really well. He just wanted to dance and play, and dance and
play, never stop, play, dance, dance, play, forever.