There's a Starman

It was almost time for something that had started, or been planned, long ago. Now they were here, the morning after the London show and the Anthean was standing on the mezinine, in the hotel, that overlooked the dining room. The bands were filtering in to find friends, bandmates, and lovers. The scene was rowdy, unpredictable, chaotic. Ziggy watched, leaning on the railing, and felt deep down that this is what he was meant to do. One of the messages that he had set out to send was the need for putting aside differences, crossing cultures and boundries. He knew that was needed to save humanity, to save the Earth.

He smiled guessing at the number of music generas now on the tour. 5? Glam rock, glam metal, punk. thrash, Glam..folk... what the hell genera were the Hammers, anyway? Ziggy suddenly realized he didn't know and no one had really ever defined them either. Maybe turning from labels was the point of it all. Seven countries represented the people below and, if he could be honest, two planets. That part had to remain quiet but seven countries was a hell of a lot.

All of his thoughts about grand ideas and prophecies easily became overshadowed by what he saw. Near thirty of them now, people who felt as outsiders, people who were lost, grieving, broken, hurting, traumatized... lonely... brought together into a family. One insane, gigantic family that had him laughing as he heard the morning scream of Aarne who never greeted anyone at less than his full vocal capacity. This had started with six; the Spiders, Robert and Ziggy's father. They weren't yet close, Mick bolting, and everything disjointed. Three years ago.

Ziggy's mind drifted, two years left. They had two years to save the world, to save it from the horrors that Jack and Damien lived because Ziggy knew that was one of the possible futures, one of the possible outcomes. Thomas had finally divulged that detail to him months ago. None of them knew, or well most of them didn't know, they were the saviors of this Earth, or trying to be. Maybe in their hearts they did know and he doubted them because it was subconcious, a natural drive. Was that what he had picked up on when he put these bands in proximity to each other? A drive to tell everyone and everything to fuck off and show the world a better way?

Ziggy had a lot of questions on his mind, but not a lot of answers. Life worked that way. Rekker had once told him that; “Hindsight is the only place with answers. If you were looking toward the future it should be like you are deep in a fog and fumbling toward the sound of your goals. Never knowing what was going to come out of it, no clue what you would stumble into. If you knew exactly how the future was going to go then you weren't risking anything at all. You weren't doing anything new.” Those words had been the older singer's advice to Ziggy when he started with his first band. Even with two prophetic aliens running with this crew the future was unknown. How true the Brit's words were now that they were kicking around in Ziggy's head with years of hindsight to give them meaning. For Ziggy, and the Brit himself.

Over all his thoughts was a layer of emotions and language from below. His Anthean senses picking up on it even if he was barely paying attention to the concrete world, lost in an internal dialogue. There was love below, a whole room full of it now that they had taken over the hotel's entire dining hall between the bands and the crew that were staying at the same place. The Anthean couldn't even tell them all how this one act protected him from the hostile environment of humanity. The environment that had nearly driven Thomas insane when he was trapped in it alone, lesson learned. He rolled his eyes at the older Anthean sitting beside his father, suspicious that he knew.

Thomas told Ziggy he needed to encourage the most hidden he encountered to be themselves and to love without reservation. The singer had thought that was a grand word of prophecy from the Anthean who was more in-tune with his abilities. Ziggy doubted it now. Hindsight, Rekker's heavy London accent intruded in his thoughts while the Anthean's eyes focused on Gilly. He was the one that started this. One diner conversation where Ziggy pulled him aside and told him to go to Hunter. A string of events rippled out from that moment which drew in each of the others one at a time. Stepping back from that moment with Gllly was Mick and his courage to finally say enough hiding. Ziggy was trying to weave a line of threads between people. He and Mick, to Gilly, to Gilly's older brother, the Hell's Angel's, Hunter, The Hammers, Hunter to Erik, to Robert, to Rekker and Hexed, to Bjorn and Blixt to Hans, and Ollie.. and back to Rik in the Hammers, twice there, to Billy to Viktor and Vars and across to Dee and Ulrik and on and on stitching back and around though the heart of the bands.. then he had to backpedal.. somewhere in there existed Jack to Zack to Damien and himself to Gloria and Weird. The spider web of connections.

Ziggy froze and then laughed thinking of Newton when the young Anthean had his heart set on his band being known as the Spiders. Newton had this knowing little smirk the entire time he sat quietly in that café while Ziggy prattled on with glorious intentions and optimism. It was before his father had met Newton, before the first band, long before this. The Spiders were a web, or created one anyway, that culminated in this. Thomas knew. And Ziggy laughed at the idea that his people thought he was the prophetic one.

The Anthean finally pulled himself away from his thoughts when he saw Mick staring up at him with love. He waved and moved toward the steps that lead below. They all needed to get food and get it together. This evening was to be an interview for the ages. He wondered if the silent Anthean, Thomas, had an inkling of what was about to happen. The more he thought about it the more the answer to that question was a resounding yes.

He had been at this for almost three weeks now. Sure, there had been some good people come in to audition but no one stood out. There had been what now, four guitarists today. It was proving difficult to find a quality guitarist, especially one that kept his, or her, mouth shut about his appearance.

Ziggy was pacing as he drank down another glass of whiskey. He flopped down in a chair and sighed heavily. Eventually the agent he was working with came in to say they had a call from some people on a train or something. He wasn't really paying attention too much because his emotions were eating at him. He had waited this long, what harm could be waiting a bit longer?

He sat in the chair of the sound booth, spinning and then kicked his feet up. Tugging down on the short kimono he waited, drinking whiskey and reclining in the chair. He wondered how long he'd have to wait for these late comers to make it to the studio.