Debatable Space

Flanagan

“I hate the idea of doing this. I guess I must.”

Rob stands before us, sheepishly, his three-dimensional hologram image blinking at the camera.

“Alliea, you’re the best. I love you. The rest of you… Ah you’re a bunch of useless fucking losers. May you die shamed. May you choke on your beer. You’re alive and I’m dead, fuck the lot of you!”

We give a solid cheer to that.

“Sing with me, comrades.”

“There is a house in New Orleans

They call the Rising Sun.

It’s been the ruin of many a poor boy.

And me, O God, for one.”

We join in the singing, raucous and loud. Alliea’s contralto soars high above us. She does a jazz riff with the blues melody.

Rob segues into a tech-hop number by Singularity, to a rhythm guitar backing laid down by me. He sings:

“Soul sister, lover, brother, mother, feel my

Feel my!

Feel it, hear it, blur it, murmur it, disinter it, whirr it, yeah that’s my spirit,

Heart and soul, got no control, takes its toll, got no goal, ain’t a whole,

Hate this world, spirit’s whirled, this dimension is unfurled,

Can’t believe, cannot grieve, too tired to deceive,

Empty life, got no strife, whored my wife, ate a knife and died and woke up

In the organ banks, hey thanks, full of tranks,

Wish I was

Someone else

Somewhere else

Somewhat else

Not myself

Not with you

Don’t feel blue

Want to die

So that I

Feel my “I”

Got no “I’, got no spirit, got no “me’, disinter it, let me die, let me be, let me be, let me be,

The other guy

The other girl

Living in the other universe I curse I’m worse immersed in thirsting bursting

Feel my spirit?

I can’t feel it.

I ain’t got it.

Got no spirit.

Got no spirit.

Got no me.

Got no I.

Want to die.”

Rob stops. He and I used to be a great double act. He was the rapper, I was the bluesman. But now… Now… No more music. No more Rob. I weep.

“Shit guys, sorry,” says Rob’s hologram, “that one’s a fucking downer. Flanagan, you pissed yet?”

“I am!” I call out.

“I thought I’d finish by reading aloud all my email addresses, all 82 million of them. So keep your seats, this may take some time.” He’s grinning, foolish and silly and somehow ill at ease. “Or you know, since I’m dead now, any chance of a virtual blowjob from, ah, someone?” Rob fiddles with his trousers. But then he thinks better of it.

“Shit what’m I talking about? I’ll outlive the lot of you. I gotta go, things to do.”

The hologram vanishes.

Tears are streaming down Alliea’s cheeks.

I’m feeling horny. I want her. I want that woman so bad, and now that Rob is dead Oh shit, what did I just think? Stop it, stop it!

Alliea comes to me, I hug her. I shuffle her body round so she can’t feel my erection. I imagine taking her. But I keep my face deadpan, I cage my heart.

The crew sing another song. It is a heartbreaking lament about a space warrior who turns on his masters and leads an army to liberate his home planet. He fails and dies horribly, but the chorus has a nice melody and a great deal of oomph.

I’ll miss you Rob.