Lucifer said, “20 years is a lot to catch up with.”
“I know. I just don’t want to go back and feel like a relic.”
“Let’s start with what you last remember of the world before you died, and we’ll go from there.”
So Freddie told him. And they went in chunks: from world politics, to music, to the birth and explosion of the Internet. He was able to comprehend all of it, though his instinct was to reject that the world had moved on without him.
“Jesus,” Freddie said. “And they still haven’t cured AIDS yet?”
“No. And that’s not my fault. It’s easily managed now, though.”
“Think about how you want to be seen by the world. Something like this hasn’t been done in millenia, so the shock of it all may be overwhelming, particularly to your family.”
“So my parents are still alive?”
“And my sister?”
“Has her own family.” Freddie breathed in to say something and Lucifer said, “–And yes, Mary is doing fine. As are the band, and your lover.”
“Oh dear.” He stood up to look out over the balcony. “Can I hear what kind of music is being made right now?”
“Sure. What kind of music do you want to hear? There are bands and singers who are trying to sound like you and Queen, you know.”
“Interesting. Let me hear some rock first, and then you can recommend me something else.”
So Lucifer made Freddie a playlist of modern rock, with a little indie, R&B, and folk mixed in. “The kinds of sounds you can recreate – even with just a simple laptop computer – are pretty infinite. I work with some managers back on Earth, so I can get a team together to fit whatever you wanted to do here. Although marketing you… wouldn’t be difficult, I think.”
“Are you going to be Lucifer The Manager?”
“Oh, no. I can change into a suitable guise as to not scare people.”
“I see.” Freddie said.
He realized that making this decision almost made him not want to go back home. It felt too difficult. He wanted to talk about it, but it wasn’t like Lucifer would be the best person to play armchair psychologist. But he’d come so far already, and didn’t want to “almost” go home again.
And if there were going to be any kind of chance at redemption, going home was going to be it.
But what would he look like? He was so used to those teeth, the moustache, being somewhat fit. From what Lucifer showed him, those things might not be the best of ideas (though he noticed a beard fetish in the modern kids, which he already had a lead on). How old should he be? What kind of music would he make?
Freddie: Part 19
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