When the future comes, there will be an indie folk musician from Massachusetts with a working iPhone and an endless optimism named Lukey, and there will be a beard snake crawling around his chin until it registers to the horrified onlookers that it’s a friendly beard snake. And there will be songs recorded onto the iPhone called “Get My Goam” and “Pee Jazz” (not one but two!), and Lukey will hum you to sleep over the sounds of robots and spaceships. No one will be angry anymore and everyone will hug. The songs will wilt like flowers in the summer, magnetic tape losing its resilience over time and hardening and cracking. And joy will flow in rivers and streams throughout the land, until it pools in lakes and reservoirs and finally oceans, tapped for birthday parties and anniversaries. It will be Nathan’s birthday every day, and Ashla and Nathan will love this music for all time. Even ten billion years from now when nothing but dust covers this planet, Luke Jumes’s songs will be remembered in the calm between the dust storms, hovering still in molecules and DNA strands. But until then there’s a tape, and the tape may be for sale if you can find it.
Luke Jumes
--Ryan Masteller
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