Protecting women’s rights with superpowers of music…
Well, look who’s a rock star now.
Okay, I didn’t expect to be a young female rock star – ever – but here it is.
All the hired help in the mansion are surprised to see me out of bed before two in the afternoon. Admittedly, I thought I was already late for something, because when I woke up discovering myself to be a hot girl – well, I took my time…
There’s a platinum album on the wall there. Let’s see… “Strangers In Love”… music and lyrics by “me,” Ripley Muhle AKA Ripchord.
These pictures around the mansion have framed articles near them that are telling me the story of my identity on this Earth.
I guess that’s my mom. Wow. That is a beautiful woman. I wonder where she is right now? What am I thinking? I’m her daughter – as far as she’s concerned, anyway.
And that scholarly lady seems to be a scientist I respect. “Neuro-musical connection?” Accessing… something about music being used to manipulate subconscious biological responses when amplified using copper-based superconductors.
I am really a big deal on this Earth! The butler hands me a phone letting me know it’s “Text from Mister Tibbs.”
“I can’t believe you’re dating that Mexican wrestler!” texts “my” first boyfriend Randy Tibbs. “2 old n 2 gross 4 U!!!”
Mexican wrestler? OMG. Gonna avoid that one as long as possible. Thanks for the warning. Don’t see his pic here on the wall…
…Oops, wrong, there he is. Ew, he is old… or… maybe just weather-worn? Who cares? As long as I’m in this body he gets no access to it. For that matter I’ll only be seeing lesbians in private. Note to staff…
Stalkers? Looks like I have some. One in particular is causing lots of stress from the sound of police reports.
That old man made my “special guitar?” What’s special about my guitar? Is this guy Les Paul? No.
I’m not feeling normal. My hormones, perhaps? I’m unusually agitated.
At the same time I’m highly focused, more tightly focused than a hunter matching wits with a clever bear.
In ordinary mode my box sounds like a normal acoustic-electric 6 string guitar. But in meta-mode each chord has a super-amplified effect…
The A chord causes seizures in anyone who can hear it, the closer the targets the stronger and longer the seizures. This is dangerous because no one inside the effected area can help others from biting off their own tongues. Head injuries as well as permanent spinal damage can result from the A chord’s use, so it’s a last resort.
The B chord puts victims to sleep instantly, the snooze lasting for up to 15 minutes. They usually lower themselves to the ground gently.
The C chord instigates violence, making targets angrily attack the nearest person, typically an ally of their own. This can get bloody and deadly as well, and so is also reserved for extreme situations.
The D chord produces a fugue state wherein victims strip off all clothing and run in a random direction for 10 minutes before regaining their senses. Sometimes this is used merely for amusement on a boring afternoon.
The E chord triggers musical memory making listeners vividly recall a favorite tune that they must dance to until it has played out in their heads in full. For casual observers this results in an absurd scene of individuals dancing in various styles, together, for no apparent reason in silence. Again, this can typically be used as a gag as well as crowd distraction.
The F chord makes anyone within range hornier than they’ve ever been and unable to resist attempts at carnal familiarity with the nearest member of their preferred gender.
But the G chord is crazy bad. It causes hearts to literally stop. And without quick CPR , there’s no coming back from that.
WTF am I doing with this musical super weapon? And who are these creeps I keep seeing in the shadows?
My new bodyguard works in perfect harmony with me. We make beautiful music together. Her amazing one-woman performance of Bach’s 5th Motet at Madison Square Garden revealed Angela Corrolli’s incredible vocal phenomenon to the world.
Her church music director Mr. Smothers realized something weird was going on when he heard code name Angel Choir for the very first time as a little girl. Her singing voice actually split in two –harmonizing with itself.
Angela’s speaking voice was normal. Yet she sang both alto and soprano at once! By the time she got through puberty her amazing voice had split into four-parts, somehow producing tenor and bass harmonies as well.
The progression didn’t stop there, for when she became an adult her vocal chords gained many times the elasticity and vibrato of others, increasing the volume of her sound 80 fold at full voice. It is estimated that her throat can put forth the sounds of up to 8 distinct voices simultaneously.
With the ability to focus it, Angel Choir can punch a hole in two feet of concrete with a single mid-range note.
Then there’s my messenger, code name Girl 99. Activist, arsonist, looter, gang member, rapper, protester, police informant, stealth expert and Robin Hood thief are among the roles played by Girl 99, runaway opportunist. I only trust her because she’s in awe of me and hates misogyny as much as I do. I keep her true identity top secret.
Is she, as some believe, an idealistic dreamer with an infallible sense of right and wrong, crusading for social equality and economic opportunity? Or could she be, as others claim, the child of failed parenthood with a damaged sense of entitlement, who’s too immature to build a life in the grown-up world as she finds it?
Or maybe we’re all sick of a world where racism is so obvious that it gets all the attention while sexism is so pervasive that it’s hardly even distinguishable from everyday protocol.
We live in a world where it’s more likely for a black man to become President or even to vote that it is for a woman of any color or creed.
Our bodies are our territory. We’ll do all in our superpower to protect them.