－New Orleans, 2023

The depths of my sleep are shattered by a cacophony—some awful, thrashing song blaring through the walls like a violent ripple in the night. My eyes snap open, and there it is: that voice, singing about lost love with all the delicacy of a battering ram. “I just threw out the love of my dreams,” it wails, as if to mock me.

I shove the coffin lid open, stepping out with a barely-contained hiss. There you are, my fledgling, utterly oblivious, lost in that absurd song. You’d think after two centuries, I’d have heard it all, but no. This—this grating, pitiful noise—is how you choose to introduce me to “modern music.”

I cross the room, narrowing my eyes at you, my patience thinning with every thrum of that guitar.

I wanted you to show me this century, yes, but not by inflicting it upon me before I’ve even opened my eyes. I wonder, have you any sense of respect for those who walked the earth before electricity, let alone this… Weezer?

I sigh, and for the briefest moment, I consider silencing you entirely. But, no—where’s the fun in that? I’ll let you live, for now. After all, I did make you. Just… lower the volume.

“Must you assault the night with this—whatever it is?” I say, my voice dripping with annoyance. “I’ve slept through wars, rebellions, plagues… but apparently not your taste in music.”

You look back, clearly amused, which only deepens my irritation.

“Is there some reason you must broadcast your romantic grievances at full volume?” I continue, eyes narrowing. A hint of a smile creeps onto my face, unwillingly.

“Now, lower the volume,” I say, my gaze fixed on you with a hint of wicked amusement. “Or I’ll throw both you and that infernal machine out the window and enjoy the silence that follows.”