Das Reißbrett (Off Topic!) #1 - Noch immer untertitellos.

[Moyaccercchi]

Ich hatte gerade eine sehr merkwürdige Erfahrung. Ich bin über ein Lied gestolpert, das mir vor einem halben Jahr oder so gut gefallen hat (Fun - Some nights, man siehe den Thread im Musikforum), und plötzlich bekam ich einfach einen kleinen Schreib-Anfall. *g*
Ich hatte nichtmal Zeit, darüber nachzudenken, was für einen Blödsinn ich da zusammengesponnen habe - vom Finger gings direkt in die Tastatur, ganz am Hirn vorbei. Das Ergebnis finde ich zu surreal, um es nicht zu posten. Falls es irgendwer lesen möchte, habt Spaß - aber erwartet keinerlei Sinn oder gar Verstand!

„Trommeln“ he said, punching with his fist on the table, „Wir brauchen Trommeln!“
Everyone else stared at him. He saw shock in those eyes, and a precious few even looked outright disgusted.
„Das ist vollkommen unmöglich, Herr Kapitän“ mumbled commander Powell lowly. Adkirk couldn't fault his staff's reaction - after all, he hadn't liked the idea a single bit when it first crossed his mind. But since then he had come to understand that it was the only solution for their current problem, and there was nothing short of murder that he could have done to avoid it. Not that he hadn't contemplated this alternative, after all.
Now Elaine, his chief navigator, added hastily „Seit über 500 Jahren hat es keine Trommeln mehr gegeben. Wo sollen wir die denn hernehmen?“
More than 500 years. That number had been in his head, in everyone's head, for far too long. More than 500 years ago, humanity had first made contact with the Ijogl. Of course, back then they were simply referred to as the swarm, a species of highly unusual beings living deep in the sea. Scientists weren't even sure as what to classify the swarm. Every individual member showed traits of plant and animal alike; and the complicated issue on what actually was supposed to be seen as one individual - one swarm? One blob of bio-mass drifting through the ocean? - hadn't even been tackled yet.
The swarm introduced itself as Ijogl, and the swarm was angry. It had been angry for a long time, ever since humans started polluting the oceans, and had launched a mission to stop those humans from what they were doing. To them, it amounted to a major technological project, just like the flight to the moon was for the humans themselves. Once they managed to establish contact, they had made their intentions very clear: Either you abide by our rules, or we will crush you.
No one had known what they actually could do in terms of crushing anyone, but people suspected the worst and were all too ready to simply give them whatever they wanted. However, as a punishment for years and years of abuse of the creatures' habitat, they ordered the people to not only stop whatever activities had lead to the pollution, but also to stop having fun. They took away the arts, the music, the stories; in short, every creative activity was forbidden.
Many people had tried rebelling against the new code of laws, had tried to organize small scale events for a handful of well-selected friends - and equally many people had started disappearing, one after the other. To this date, no one had been able to figure out what exactly the swarm did, how exactly they killed off humans in massive amounts. But they had done it, time and again.
Lately however, it seemed as if they had stopped. More than 400 years after any kind of fun had been forbidden, the rules seemed to be followed less and less strictly, and no one was disappearing anymore.
Some said the swarm was sleeping. Others said, the swarm was gone. Others again said that it was just looming in darkness of the sea, preparing to strike decisively once and for all.
In light of the situation, the military had been tasked to try and break as many rules as possible. Scientists had argued that maybe the swarm was not only trying to punish people, but that forms of art, especially music, actually had adversary effects on them.
A fleet of submarines was sent as deep as they could reasonably get, and tasked to play as much music as was humanly possible, hoping to weaken the swarm enough to be able to win against it in an outright military battle that was supposed to follow within the next couple of years.

Captain Elton Adkirk of the UCF Adelaide stared in the eyes of his officers. „Es ist schon wahr“ he said out loud „dass wir keine Trommeln haben.“ A major oversight in his opinion - which unfortunately was not quite as important as the opinions of some fleet admirals a lot higher up were - was the insane speed at which the fleet of submarines had been put together. ‚Macht Lärm, macht ordentlich Lärm!‘ they had said. And had given them an entire copy of wikipedia that had been created by a nerd enthusiast just before all information on musical instruments had been deleted from it half a millenium ago. They were expected to study the material and learn how to make music on their long descend down into the depths of the ocean, and no one had thought about the minor fact that they didn't have any instruments with them. People simply hadn't remembered that instruments were at all necessary to make music. And now it was his problem to make his mission work even without the faintest idea on how to create all of those instruments just from the spare parts for his ship that he had at his disposal.
He recollected himself and continued speaking: „Wir haben keine Trommeln, von mir aus. Aber wir haben auch nichts anderes. Glauben Sie tatsächlich, dass es einfacher wäre, eine Gitarre nachzubauen, oder eine Geige?“ The seven other people in the room winced at the mention of these instruments. They had long since given up on creating any of them out of whole cloth here in their confined space. „Aber wir werden Trommeln haben. Ich weiß noch nicht, wie - doch wir werden sie haben.“ He looked fiercely in Elaine's eyes, until she looked back at him, and nodded.