Prince toys with the space-time continuum

On a temp job in 2067 I learn that there are no more new songs. There are new bands with new names but they only play covers. People around here—the future—they say you get used to it. When I asked the guy I was working with how it came to be this way, he said an algorithm determined beyond any shadow of doubt that it was impossible to write new songs. They'd all been written. As far as songwriting was concerned, the oversoul was complete. Any attempt to write a new song was by definition not a new song, it was an oldie, so if you tried to say it was a new song—your song—you were in fact stealing it from the oversoul and setting the species back.

Of these future matters of state I didn't worry because, as always, I had a job to do and a temp job should be free of worry while you're doing it. I was to assist in the manufacture of a couch under a rock concert because what happens at rock concerts in 2067 when there are no new songs is two people manufacture a couch during the show, under the stage. The couch is a thematic representation of the show itself, to be determined by the rockers, who give the couch makers the theme before show time, based on their pre-concert interaction with tailgaters, though it turns out theme is only sponsored by color in the future. They're supposed to be mood couches, capturing the spirit and vibe of the show and if you're fortunate enough to be able to buy one, you can take it home and sit in that vibe in your living room. Bring the show home. Better than a bootleg, said Phil, the guy I was making the couch with.

During the show itself there's a monitor showing the two people making the couch. And what happens in the future when you go to a show is, you watch the manufacture of the couch on a huge monitor above the cover band as much as you watch the show. It's a big part of the experience, though they still have smoke in the future, too.

*

Phil said he'd made hundreds of couches. It was easy—always the same frame, always the same arms, legs, the same stuffing. The only thing different was the color of the fabric. Our couch was yellow. I asked him if he could feel 30,000 people in the coliseum watching him, watching us.

No, he said.

It kind of feels to me like we're behind a one-way glass, I said.

That's entertainment, he said. Hand me that leg. Sooner we knock this baby out the sooner we can get out of here.

But what do we do if we finish early, before the show's over?

Usually I watch the rest of the show from the side of the stage.

But then you're not really capturing the theme if the show isn't completely over. Doesn't a lot of important stuff happen as the show ends? Like encores?

Encores? There aren't any encores.

Why not?

Why not? Because all the songs have been played.

See, this is what I don't get.

Hand me that hammer.

Sure, sorry, here you go. Why have the concert in the first place if there are no new songs?

What? Where are you from anyway?

The past.

Get out. Really?

Yeah.

How'd you get here?

On Prince's space ship.

Who's Prince?

He's a musician, was a musician, a songwriter.

Really?

Yeah. There isn't a Prince cover band?

Not that I know of.

Well, he contributed many songs to the oversoul.

Phil stopped what he was doing.

But if he's in the past and you're in the past and he sent you from the past and he could have sent himself and not you—are you a songwriter from the past?

No.

Then the Prince is writing songs when those songs are still contributing to the oversoul, which means he could come here and write new songs and they would be new.

I suppose.

But they would only be new and entered into the canon of the oversoul if he came here and stayed here.

The old Brigadoon trick. I don't think that's going to happen.

Why?

Prince is tough to figure. But I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to mess with the space-time continuum. He's not greedy.

What's the space-time continuum?

It's a theory proposed by a scientist in the movie Back to the Future. Hey, question: are there any new movies in 2067?

Yes, but we're getting there. Government estimates say we'll have them wrapped up in twenty years or so.

What about poetry?

Done and done.

Novels?

Not quite. Novels are to poetry as movies are to songs. What's the space-time continuum theory?

Oh, it's that if you go back in time or forward in time you shouldn't do anything that will disrupt the natural order of events because the consequences could be disastrous.

Like what?

The scientist never really explained how it could be disastrous. I guess it was just taken on faith.

You're in the future now, Phil said. Aren't you disrupting the natural order of events?

This is just a temp job, Phil. Temp jobs, by definition, don't disrupt the natural order of events, which is why I like them. My work life has no practical effect on life as we know it or what it will be. I'm not out to change anything. I prefer that tranquility.

But you're making a couch with me. If you weren't here, I wouldn't be able to make the couch alone and there would be no couch to sell to the highest bidder at the end of the concert and one less person or family would be able to vibe out to the show in their living room.

No offense, Phil, but I don't think that would have any real effect in this world.

Of course it would! I'm an artist! What I do matters! I've spent my life working on thematic couches so that one day there will be no more possibilities and we can cross them off the list on the way to ultimate knowledge! You fool! I'm doing my part!

I'm sorry, I said.

*

We worked on the couch uninterrupted until we finished, which coincided exactly with the last song of the show above us. Prince never tells me where or when he's going to pick me up so I usually end up doing what seems natural, I just sort of go on walkabout and he always appears, hovering in his space ship like a sand sniffer from a galaxy far, far away. I figured now that Phil and I were done with the couch, now that the show was over, I'd walk outside and see what people in the future do after a show, since I missed out on what they do before a show. Phil wanted to talk some more so I stayed put for the time being.

When did Prince play? he asked.

In the 80s, 90s and 2000s.

Is that when you're from, the 2000s?

Yeah.

That explains why I haven't heard of him. We're systematically working back in time with concerts until we get to the first song ever sung. Right now we're only in the 2020s, songs written in the 2020s. What were songs like in the 1980s, 1990s and 2000s?

I guess you'll have to wait to see.

Can I go back with you?

I don't think so.

Why?

Prince's space ship is a two-seater.

Damn.

Why do you want to go back anyway? You're doing your part here, like you said, and I apologize if I suggested you don't matter, Phil, because you do.

All the songs remain the same.

Whoa, dude.

What?

Nothing, Phil. I wish I could take you back but you have more important work to do here.

*

We parted ways and I walked out to the parking lot. It was big and had entirely cleared out of space ships. Except for one. I walked over to it, across the vast parking lot, like a stable hand across a pasture, trying to make headway with the one remaining renegade horse and armed only with straw. Prince leaned over and rolled down the passenger window. I'd been meaning to ask him about that. The manual window. His ship has warp speed.

How was it? Prince asked. I was surprised because usually he's not as effusive.

Sad, I said.

Why?

This guy I was working with, Phil, he's never heard your shit. Or Led Zep.

Get in.

And, Prince, it's worse, I said as I Velcro-strapped myself in: in the future they've got the oversoul on a spread sheet. Your work is done even though they haven't gotten to you yet.

They never will, Prince said, and winked a purple passion my way, a roofie-powered blast of boudoir. I was out, again, until the next episode.