Julian Kalli's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Julian Kalli was fifteen years old and one week behind on a song nobody was allowed to hear. He sat on the lip of the old concert stage with his guitar across his knees, the wooden boards warm under his cyborg arm. A week ago a new mayor had banned all music. That same morning, at the dinner table, his family had nodded along when the announcement played. They said music made people violent. Julian had stopped arguing and walked out. The stage was the only place left where he could keep the guitar hidden and still touch the strings without playing them. He pressed his fingers to the frets without strumming and ran through every note of the song he wrote. He knew the problem already. One boy with a guitar could not move a mayor. He needed others, and he could not ask out loud. The authorities had people listening at corners and posting tip lines on every screen. Julian pulled a slim tablet from inside his red jacket. He had been using it for three days now, logging anyone he caught humming under their breath or tapping a rhythm against a counter. The list was short. Four entries. None confirmed. A board creaked behind him. He turned. A girl stood at the edge of the stage with her hands in the pockets of a denim jacket covered in patches. Black ponytail, green eyes, a shirt with music notes printed across the front. She looked at the guitar. She looked at him. She did not run. "You're going to get caught," she said. "You first," Julian said. He nodded at her shirt. She glanced down, then back up. "Venie." "Julian." He set the guitar flat. "How did you find this place?" "Followed a sound last week. Someone playing. Probably you." She climbed the steps and sat two feet away. "Grandmother locked my piano. Threw the key out. I came looking for anywhere quiet." Julian turned the tablet so she could see the screen. Four names. Four sets of small habits. "I'm trying to find more of us. Without anyone noticing." Venie read the list. Her mouth moved like she was counting. "I know six at my school," she said. "Tapping on desks. Mouthing songs at lunch. I can ask them." "Quietly." "I don't talk loud." She looked at him straight. "If we get ten, what then?" "Then we're not alone," Julian said. "Then we plan something the mayor can't ignore." She held out her hand. He shook it with the cyborg one. She did not flinch. They agreed on a meeting place at the stage in three days, and a signal: a short burst of static on a radio band only musicians watched. Venie left first. Julian waited ten minutes, then locked the guitar behind the back panel and walked home with the tablet against his ribs. He had been one. Now he was two, and Venie was already counting to ten.