Doc: 2227

A story of a possible future, written as a tribute to some of my heroes…

“Grandpa, tell us how music started.”

“Again? You’ve heard this before, Carl. Well, it happened about 60 years ago, in 2227. Nobody had heard instrumental music for a long time. There were two brothers, named Harry and Louis. They were 9 and 11 years old. Their story goes like this. One day, Louis brought something home to show his brother.”

—–

“Harry! Look what I found!”

“Where, Louis?”

“In The Underground. By the wall behind the dried-up old fountain. Do you think we can fix it?”

“What the Fox is it?”

“I think it’s called a record player. I saw one in an encyclopedia.”

“But what does it do?”

“It plays black discs. Or it would if we could fix it.”

“But we don’t have any black discs.”

“There might be some near where I found it.”

“Maybe there are parts there too. We should go tomorrow and have a look.”

“I took a big Foxing chance finding this thing in the first place. And Ma warned us to stay out of The Underground. She says it’s dangerous. Off-limits.”

“We can be double-careful, Louis.”

“Let’s go tomorrow after noon-chow, Harry. But don’t tell Ma.”

“What if something bad happens?”

“You said we can be double-careful.”

The brothers lived in one of the original domed enclaves. There weren’t many in existence. Climate change, the asteroid, and the Global War had leveled most of the country and buried just about everything. Towns such as Emerson, Thoreau, Fuller, Whitman, and a handful of others emerged as independent city-states in what was left of the United States of America. All of them strived to function as self-governing democracies. None of them possessed more than remnants of the culture that existed two centuries before.

Harry and Louis had schoolwork, but the concept of school, with classrooms, teachers, teams, clubs, bands, and choirs was deemed a relic of the past. They learned by individual instruction – at their own pace – with the goal of learning a trade by their teens. The old model of school as a warehouse for young minds was lost in the War. When the brothers got their work done, they were free to explore Emerson and watch the builders – from a safe distance. It should go without saying that Harry and Louis also had to stay out of trouble and away from areas that were off-limits.

Emerson was an interconnected dome complex large enough to feed and house 20,000 people. The plan was to expand it to at least twice that size. When Harry and Louis were young, many parts of town were still unfinished – off-limits to everyone except construction workers. The domes were designed to protect people and crops from the toxic environment the Earth had become. We know it will be centuries before our planet can heal completely. Extreme temperatures, radiation, and biohazards outside can be lethal if one remains long enough without protection. In the past, many people thought humans would one day build cities like this on the moon or Mars. Little did they know that they would be needed here. If only Earth’s 20^th and 21^st century leaders had taken existential threats and resource depletion seriously.

The citizens of Emerson and the other dome complexes didn’t have time for doing much other than eating, sleeping, and working to survive – and hoping their grandchildren might one day thrive. All jobs had to be essential to building for the future. It had taken several decades to build the basic structures and it would take many years to complete the work. In those days, there was little use for the arts, other than history, language, literature, and philosophy. Engineering, architecture, agriculture, and skilled trades were the most important. The survivors learned that bad philosophy had brought disaster to humanity, so most agreed it would not be a good idea to repeat past mistakes. Emerson put it this way, “The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.” That was the goal.

Louis knew The Underground was off-limits. His parents told stories about cave-ins, getting hopelessly lost, and other misfortunes – sad tales of boys who didn’t listen and were never heard from again. They didn’t realize they were mimicking the old warning, “there be dragons.” But they weren’t wrong. The Underground was no place for an unsupervised child. Nevertheless, boys have always disregarded such warnings, especially when they believed they might find something that could make them shout, “Wow! Look at this!” Harry had an excuse, though. He was younger. But Louis thought a trip to The Underground was well worth the risk. “It’s easier to apologize than ask permission,” he told Harry. “And besides, I know a way to get there so we’ll never get caught.”

The tunnel began in the corner of an ag dome in the southeast quadrant. It ended outside the dome in a grotto three levels below. The grotto had a thick concrete ceiling, poured while the ag dome was being constructed. At the time, some argued that this would be cheaper than filling a huge hole in the ground and besides, someone in the future might want to study what was left of the old city. There were a few work lights down below, but not enough to bring more than a perpetual moon-lit night. The Underground was once part of a huge outdoor mall, with what would have been shops and walkways. Harry and Louis knew nothing about 200-year-old malls and didn’t realize what they were exploring. They only knew The Underground was a place of adventure, and not as scary as their parents had described it. Yet, just in case, they brought lanterns, canteens, and a big backpack.

“Where did you find it, Louis?”

“Over there, Harry.”

“What else is over there?”

“I don’t know. When I found the record player, I thought I heard someone coming, so I got the Fox out of here.”

“I don’t see anybody now,” Harry said, looking around.

“Neither do I. Let’s have a look. Maybe there will be another record player and some black discs. They called them ‘records,’ Harry.

“OK. You look for record player parts and I’ll look for records. Deal?”

“Deal. Just don’t get out of ear-range. And keep your Foxing lantern on.”

“OK. I’m not a Foxing baby, you know.”

“I know. But Ma would kill me if I lost you down here. The way I figure it, we have about an hour to get back up top before we’re missed.”

After some rummaging around and a close call with a decrepit display stand, Harry found a metal container of records.

“Look, Louis! Look what I found. That wall over there is all caved-in, but here are a few black discs – I mean records.”

“Wow! Nice work, Harry. Put some of them in the backpack and come help me look for anything that might be part of a record player.”

“What about this, Louis? It says…phonograph needle. What’s a phonograph?

“That means a record player! Harry, you’re becoming a real detective.”

“Thanks, Louis.”

“Where did you find it?”

“Over there.”

“Let’s see. Here’s another record player – under the shelf. And some phonograph power cords. And record cleaner. Fox. It’s empty. Maybe if we have two that don’t work, we can use the parts to make one that does. Do you think Da will help us find a way to plug it in?”

“Maybe. After we’re confined to quarters for a month or two.”

“We better get going. We don’t want to get caught in the ag dome.”

The boys headed home with records, a needle, a cord, and a back-up record player. The record covers were in bad shape. The print was barely readable. When they got home, they stashed their loot, but took out one of the records to see what it was.

“Doc. Severinsen…The. Great. Arrival,” Louis read the cover slowly. This record is from 1969. That’s over 250 years ago! He could hardly make out the words. “Harry, it says here Doc Severinsen played an instrument called a trumpet. I don’t think he was a real doctor, though. It’s probably just a nickname.”

“I can’t wait to get the record player fixed, Louis. But we might have to ask Da for help.”

“Fox! I’m afraid you’re right.”

The boys were able to attach the needle Harry found. The old one was broken, and they were glad the new old one just plugged in. So did the cord. But power was a big problem. There was no way they could even try it out. The plug did not fit the power points in their quarters. By this time, they had dusted off a stack of records by the man named, Doc Severinsen. He wasn’t in their educational materials or any of the books they had read, so all they could learn about him was on the record covers. Their curiosity at last overwhelmed their desire to keep their discovery a secret. They had to ask their Da how to get power to the record player.

Da was more understanding than they thought he’d be. Apparently, Da had once been a boy and knew a lot about secret adventures. But he told them to wait a little longer to tell their Ma. She might do better after they’d stayed away from The Underground for a few more days.

The short version is that Da could tell the record player needed 110 volts of 60-cycle alternating current, and something he called an adapter, to connect it to one of their power points. But like everyone in Emerson, he knew an electrician. His friend managed to find an old adapter, but not before complaining, “110/60 hasn’t been used in a hundred years, Al. Why in the Fox do you need such a thing?”

Al replied, “I’ll tell you before long, Miles.”

The boys helped their Da clean the record players inside and out. They put the best parts together in one of them. They made sure it turned freely and the arm went up and down. Then, they connected it to a power point and turned it on. It was the first time in over 180 years that anyone had heard Doc Severinsen. The boys and their Da couldn’t believe what they heard. They had lived without this kind of music, so these sounds were a revelation. This was what a trumpet sounded like. This was what a band sounded like. This was what instrumental music sounded like back when people still had time to make it.

They were well into the second record when Ma returned home. “What the Fox? Where did you get that? Oh, my…”

“I can explain,” Da began.

But Louis cut him off, “It’s my fault, Ma. I found an old record player in The Underground…”

“The Underground! You know what we told you, boys,” Ma wasn’t happy.

“Look, I helped the boys get it going again. Listen…” Da began.

By this time Ma was already listening. “Umm…How many records did you find?”

“About 20,” Harry spoke up. “All by Doc Severinsen.”

“Are there others?” Ma asked.

“Yes. We don’t know how many, or what might be on them,” Louis replied.

“What I want to know is where I can find a trumpet,” said young Harry James.

And so began the rebirth of music in the twenty-third century. Instruments were literally unearthed, and reverse engineered. Children once again learned to play music, not for money or fame, but for the joy of it, for the refreshment of their souls – of all our souls. Emerson was completed years ahead of schedule. Then, work began on a vast dome, the municipality of Severinsen, where we now live, work, and play. I must be going now. I don’t want to be late for band practice!

Note: “Louis” refers to Louis Armstrong, “Al” refers to Al Hirt, “Miles” to Miles Davis, and of course, “Harry” to Harry James, an inspiration to both Doc and me, so life and music in my mind go full circle. Carl “Doc” Severinsen was born on July 7, 1927. I like to think his influence might last at least 300 years.