This is the End

December 21, 2007
The end had come at last and all there was left to do was walk. Her combat boots clinked on the empty and broken sidewalk, echoing off nothing living. They reminded her of how alone she really was. The CC's were rioting in the city but she didn't want to get involved. Morons, they'll find out soon enough that there's nothing to riot against. The revolution was over. London burned, D.C. burned, Paris burned. Balls of flame in the night, burning like they were part of a sacrificial rite. The scream still echoed in her ears, but had dulled; they were only a part of the fog in which she had fallen. Her brain ached. Her body ached. Her soul ached. And then she saw it, an old vinyl record laying on top of a record player. It had been flung to the middle of the street; looters wanted mp3 players not antiques. The past had no place in this world. It was there: 12 inches of wonderfully intact joy. It seemed to her to be the only real thing left on the face of the earth. Unwarped, undamaged, music the great healer. She walked slowly towards it, cautiously, sneakily, unsure of whether it was a trick or not. Time ticked by; her boots clicked.... click one second, click two seconds, click three seconds, click four, click five, click six, clicks..... Finally, she is there standing over it. Leaning over she touches it, caresses it like a newborn baby. Click as she shuffles closer, closer. Drops the needle on the record. Turns the volume knob. Backs away. Raw explosive sound, loud in the silence, bursts from the machine. Raging guitar.. da da da da da da da... We're Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.. we hope you will enjoy the show... deliciously uncut... Anarchy for the U.K. it's coming sometime.. ironic.. London Calling the faraway towns war is declared... prophetic... come on baby light my fire... the fire has been lit... all you need is love love is all you need, it won't work now... in the english civil war... let it be let it be speaking words of wisdom... people are strange when you're a stranger faces look ugly when you're alone...there's too much confusion all along the watchtower.. the times they are a changin.. redemption song.. She sat in the mud that used to be a road and fondled the pieces of dirty concrete that used to be a street in the middle of a hell that used to be a city and listened to the music. The music echoed off the walls of defunct civilization and in some small way the cells of normality began to rebuild. The music echoed and life surged back in to the heart of the city.

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