Conversation · Egg Head

"Right on, Lord Raubritter!"

"EAT THE POOR!"

You swear you feel the profit margins reflecting off Germaine Egg Head's giant smile.

"Almost there. Could use just a bit more consolidation, a tad less regulation..."

"THE MARKET REGULATES ITSELF!"

"No, that's still not it."

"Superb!"

"You're wrong. The nation can't bend all to its will."

"I'm sorry."

The young man drops his oversized head in shame. He is truly sorry he couldn't come up with a heart-felt yell that would satisfy The Great Leader.

"Almost there. Could use just a bit more heart..."

"WELCOME TO REVACHOL!"

"Welcome to Revachol!"

"WELCOME TO REVACHOL! WELCOME TO REVACHOL! MYSTICAL NATIONHOOD!"

The bright future of Revachol reflects off Germaine Egg Head's giant smile. A world of Revacholian domination, where its shores are bereft of ill influence.

"No, that's still not it."

"Welcome to Revachol!"

"Obviously. One shouldn't get too hasty with their decision-making."

"I'm swiftly moving toward a solution which pleases nobody!"

You feel Germaine Egg Head's smile is too enthusiastic, but it'll have to do, for now.

"Almost there. Could use just a bit more... something..."

"INCREMENTAL CHANGE!"

"Appropriate."

"But why aren't you a communist? Communism is the truth."

"I can be a communist!" He nods. "If you want that -- do you want me to be a communist?!"

"Please don't turn him into a communist."

"Oh yeah, turn him into a communist, c'mon! It would be super!"

"Don't be a communist. That path is too hard core."

"AIIIIIGH!!!" he yells. You guess he won't become a communist after all.

"Don't be a communist... wait, what am I saying? Of course be a communist!"

"AIIIIIGH!!!" he yells. You guess he is a communist now.

"Be a communist, Egg Head. The future needs your help."

"So you're not a thought reader, you're a communist?"

"He's not a communist. That's just something he likes to yell. He picked it up from a tape-jockey at The Paliseum... she was a communist though."

"YEAH! WITH A REBEL YELL!"

"You said you were worried. What do you think is wrong with the music?"

"There's nothing wrong with it. I'm still in love with the hard core." He turns pensive all of a sudden.

"Sometimes I just feel like anodic music is in its infancy, you know? For example, take this Arno van Eyck jam I've been pumping for the last month... and will continue pumping for the rest of '51..."

"Isn't something holding it back? From being hyper?" He thinks for a moment, then his expression clears...

"It's like it's only ultra."

"I think it's super hard core, but you're right, it's not hyper hard core."

"I could settle it for you, but not right now. Tell me something else, Egg Head."

"Yeagh!"

"I am The Law and an expert in these matters. Let me be the judge of what it is: hyper, super, or ultra hard core."

The young man looks at you reverently, as if observing the judgement inside your head. Growing, taking form.

In the background, his friend drops a heavy electric drill. He, too, waits for your judgement with undivided attention.

If anything, it sounds a bit proto. Like it's not fully formed yet. You might be a moribund alcoholic and a failed cop, but you are pretty certain a thing cannot be both proto and hard core.

"It's only ultra hard core."

"It is, isn't it?!" He nods in agreement. "I knew it!"

"But how could it become harder-core? I know the answer in my heart, but cannot think it in my head. If this is not hyper, how could anything be..."

"I can't help you with this right now. I need something else, something extra..."

"Yeah..."

"YEAGHH!" (He's not even the slightest bit disappointed.)

"Sounds suspiciously like a question. I thought the question was: What is the question?"

"No, this is THE ANSWER!"

"Wait! I just remembered something! I'm the police!"

"Uh-uh?" The young man is bursting with anticipation!

"Actually, it's more likely to hinder us."

"Oh..."

"Nothing. Me being the police isn't going to help us."