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So there I was stuck in traffic listening to music, singing along with a song that was somehow evocative of a story while being just a set of random imagery. (Like so much of the music I have rocked out to... funny that). This led to the musing of what story could encompass such a random set of angst-ridden imagery, which of course led to the idea of reverse filking. Take a non-thematic song, and create a sci-fi or fantasy story that fits. The shorter the better.
Chained to the Couch - The Devil Makes Three
A YouTube bootleg. The lyrics.
My brother's inchoate monologue is briefly interrupted by by a violent spasm. His limbs strain at their bindings and his back is arched as if his heart would tear itself out of his chest. He subsides and his muttering resumes; his eyes staring unseeing at me standing in the doorway. Today we have him tied to him the sofa by the open window with hopes that any breeze might give him comfort from the humidity and heat.
Ten years ago humanity was on the verge of a new era of being; we had managed to create computers that interfaced directly with the brain, accessible by thought. Only the brightest and most focused minds , including my brother's, could make use of the full capabilities. These minds were drafted by corporations, universities, and governments who paid for the surgeries in trade-for-services arrangements.
My brilliant, idealistic brother wanted to serve and protect the city that he loved and so his neurons were tapped by a small machine placed in his nasal cavity. He had a new inner eye with which to see through the public cameras, speak through the public PA systems, and communicate directly with emergency responders. Alas, near omniscience did not come with equivalent omnipotence, and after two wildly successful years of helping save lives and mitigating disasters, the world started eating itself in a third global war and he could only watch after his city fell. Worse, he couldn't stop watching, and it may have broken him.
Now we do the best we can, tying him down and hoping one day he will return from watching the world through those broken city cameras and muttering instructions to imaginary soldiers.
Chained to the Couch - The Devil Makes Three
A YouTube bootleg. The lyrics.
My brother's inchoate monologue is briefly interrupted by by a violent spasm. His limbs strain at their bindings and his back is arched as if his heart would tear itself out of his chest. He subsides and his muttering resumes; his eyes staring unseeing at me standing in the doorway. Today we have him tied to him the sofa by the open window with hopes that any breeze might give him comfort from the humidity and heat.
Ten years ago humanity was on the verge of a new era of being; we had managed to create computers that interfaced directly with the brain, accessible by thought. Only the brightest and most focused minds , including my brother's, could make use of the full capabilities. These minds were drafted by corporations, universities, and governments who paid for the surgeries in trade-for-services arrangements.
My brilliant, idealistic brother wanted to serve and protect the city that he loved and so his neurons were tapped by a small machine placed in his nasal cavity. He had a new inner eye with which to see through the public cameras, speak through the public PA systems, and communicate directly with emergency responders. Alas, near omniscience did not come with equivalent omnipotence, and after two wildly successful years of helping save lives and mitigating disasters, the world started eating itself in a third global war and he could only watch after his city fell. Worse, he couldn't stop watching, and it may have broken him.
Now we do the best we can, tying him down and hoping one day he will return from watching the world through those broken city cameras and muttering instructions to imaginary soldiers.
From:
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From:
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