I Like Martian Music - Charles E Fritch

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2:07Longtree played. His features relaxed into a gentle smile of happiness and his body turned a bright red orange. Longtree set before his hole in the ground and gazed thoughtfully among the sandy red hills that surrounded him. His skin at the moment was a medium yellow, a shade between pride and happiness at having his brief symphony almost completed, with just a faint tinge of red to denote that uncertain cautious approach to the last note which had eluded him thus far. He sat there unmoving for a while and then he picked up his blowstring and fitted the mouthpiece between his thin lips. He blew into it softly, and at the same time gently strung the three strings stretching the length of the instrument. The note was a firm, clear one which would have made any other musician proud, but Longtree frowned, and at the disappointment his body flushed a dark green and began taking on a purple cast of anger. Hastefully he put down the blowstring

3:07and tried to think of something else. Slowly his normal color returned. Across the nearest hill came his friend, channel jumper, striding on the long, thin, ungainly legs that had given him his name. His skin radiated a blissful orange. Longtree, channel jumper, exclaimed enthusiastically, collapsing on the ground nearby and folding his legs around him. How's the symphony coming? Not so good, Longtree admitted sadly, and his skin turned green at the memory. If I don't get that last note, I may be this color the rest of my life. Why don't you play what you've written so far? It's not very long, and it might cheer you up a bit. You're a good friend, channel jumper, Longtree thought, and when Red Sand and I are married after the music festival will have you over to our whole for dinner. As he thought this, he felt his body take on an orange cast and he felt better. I can't seem to get that last note, he said, picking up the blowstring again and putting it into position. The final note must be conclusive,

4:07something complete in itself, and yet be able to sum up the entire meaning of the symphony preceding it. Channel jumper hummed sympathetically. That's a big job for one note. It might be a sound no one has ever heard before. Longtree shrugged. It may even sound alien, he admitted, but it's got to be the right note. Play, and we'll see, channel jumper urged. Longtree played, and as he played, his features relaxed into a gentle smile of happiness and his body turned orange. Delicately, he strummed the three strings of the blowstring with his long-nailed fingers. Softly, he perched his frail lips and blew expertly into the mouthpiece. From the instrument came sounds the like of which channel jumper had never before heard. The Martian sat and listened in evident rapture, his body radiating a golden glow of ecstasy. He sat and dreamed, and as the music played, his spine tingled with growing excitement. The music swelled, surrounding him,

5:07permeating him, picking him up in a great hand sweeping him into new and strange and beautiful worlds. Worlds of tall metal structures, of vast stretches of greenness, and of water, and of trees, and of small pale creatures that flew giant metal insects. He dreamed of these things, which his planet Mars had not known for millions of years. After a while, the music stopped, but for a moment, neither of them said anything. At last channel jumper sighed. It's beautiful, he said. Yes, he admitted. But channel jumper seemed puzzled, but somehow it doesn't seem complete, almost, but not quite, as though, as though, long tree sighed. One more note would do it? One more note. No more, no less. At the end of the crescendo, could tie the symphony together and end it. But which one? I've tried them all, and none of them fit. His voice had risen higher in his excitement and channel jumper warned. Careful,

6:07you're beginning to turn purple. I know long tree said, mournfully, and the purple tint changed to a more acceptable green. But I've got to win first prize at the festival tomorrow. Red sand promised to marry me if I did. You can't lose channel jumper told him, and then remembered, if you can get that last note. If long tree echoed despairingly, as though his friend had asked the impossible, I wish I had your confidence, Chan, your orange most of the time, while I'm a spectrum. I haven't your artistic temperament channel jumper told him, besides, oranges such a homely color, I feel ashamed to have it all the time. As he said this, he turned green with shame and long tree left at the paradox. Channel jumper left, too, glad that he had diverted his friend's attention from the elusive and perhaps non-existent note. Did you know the space rocket is due pretty soon, he said, perhaps even in time for the music festival. Space rocket? Oh, I forgot, you were busy composing and didn't get to hear it, did you hear it,

7:07channel jumper said? Well, big wind, who has a telescope in his hole, told me a rocket is coming through space towards us, possibly from the third planet. Oh, long tree said, not particularly interested. I wonder if they'll look like us, channel jumper wondered. If they're intelligent, of course they will, long tree said, certainly not caring. Their culture will probably be alien, though, and their music, he paused and turned a very deep yellow. Of course, they might even be able to furnish the note I need to complete my symphony. Channel jumper shook his head. You've got to compose it all yourself, he reminded, or you don't qualify, and if you don't qualify, you can't win, and if you don't win, you can't marry red sand. But just one little note, long tree said. Channel jumper shrugged, helplessly, and turned sympathetically green. I don't make the rules, he said. No. Well, long tree went on in sudden determination. I'll find that last note if I have to stay permanently purple.

8:08Channel jumper shuddered gestingly at this, but remained pleasantly orange. And I'll leave you alone, so you can get to work, he said, unfolding himself. Goodbye, long tree said, but Channel jumper's long legs had already taken him over to the nearest sand dune and out of sight. Alone, long tree picked up the blowstring once more, placed it against his stomach, and gave out with a clear, beautiful, experimental note, which was, again, one he desired. He still had not found it an hour later when the sound came. The sound was a low, unpleasant rumble, a sound lower than any long tree had ever heard, and he wondered what it was. Thinking of it, he remembered he had seen a large flash of fire in the sky a moment before the roar came, but since this last was clearly not likely at all, he dismissed the whole thing as imagination and tried again to cope some new note from the blowstring. A half-hour channel jumper came bounding excitedly over a sand dune. They're here, he cried, screeching to a halt

9:08and emitting yellow flashes of color. Who's here, long tree demanded turning violet and annoyance at the interruption? The visitors from space, channel jumper explained, they landed near my hole. Their little creatures only half as big as we are, but thicker and grey-colored. Grey-colored, long tree repeated incredulously trying to picture the improbability. When the outside channel jumper went on, they have an outside shell that comes off, and inside they're sort of pink orange. A-ha, long tree said, as though he'd suspected it all the time. Evidently, they wear grey suits of some kind, probably for protection. They took them off anyway, channel jumper said, eager to impart his knowledge, and they were sort of pink orange underneath. There are only two of them, and one has long hair. Strange, long tree mused trees. Wonder what they want. Channel jumper shrugged to indicate he didn't know. The short-haired one followed me, he

10:08said. Long tree felt the chill blue of fear creep along his spine, but immediate anger at himself changed it conveniently to purple, and he was certain channel jumper hadn't noticed. When he had controlled himself, he said, well, it doesn't matter. I've got to get on with my symphony. That last note. He's here, channel jumper announced. What? He was eagerly and long tree's eyes followed the direction to where the aliens stood at the top of a nearby dune staring at them. Long tree could feel his skin automatically turning red with caution, blending with the sand, while the ever trusting channel jumper remained bright orange. Good gosh, the alien exclaimed. Not only do they look like modified grasshoppers, they change color too. What did he say? Long tree demanded. How should I know? Channel jumper said it's in another language. The voice long tree exclaimed almost disbelieving it. Low. Lower than even our drums rumble. And they talk in squeaks yet the alien told himself aloud.

11:08Long tree regarded the alien carefully. As channel jumper had said, the creature was short and had close cropped hair on its head. The legs were brief and pudgy, and long tree felt a shade of pity for the creature who could obviously not get around as well as they. It was undoubtedly intelligent, the space rocket testified to that, and the fact that the creature's skin color state a peaceful pink orange helped a short long tree the alien's mission was friendly. The alien raised a short arm and stepped slowly forward. I come in peace, he said, in the language they could not understand. My wife and I are probably the only humans left alive, when we left earth most of the population had been wiped out by atomic. I think we were the only ones to get away. Long tree felt his redness subside to orange as he wondered idly what the alien had said. Except for a natural curiosity, he didn't really care. For he remembered suddenly the symphony he had to finish by tomorrow if he were to marry red sand. But there was the element of politeness to consider, so he

12:08nudged Channel Jumper. Don't just stand there, say something. Channel Jumper flustered and turned several colors in rapid succession. He stammered, or welcome to our planet, a visitor from space and motion the alien to sit down. That's not very creative, long tree accused. What's the difference Channel Jumper pointed out when he doesn't understand us anyway? You guys don't really look like grasshoppers, the man from Earth apologized coming forward. It's just the long legs that fooled me from up there. Boy am I glad to find somebody intelligent on Mars. From the air we couldn't see any cities or areas or anything, and we were afraid the planet didn't have any life. I wish we could understand each other, though. Long tree smiled pleasantly, and wish the creature would go away, so he could search for the last note to his symphony. He picked up his blowstrings, so the alien wouldn't sit on it. Play for him, Channel Jumper suggested, seating himself by segments. Just the last part to see how he reacts.

13:08Music is universal. You know, Long tree was going to do just that thing for despite Channel Jumper's warning that he might compose every single note by himself, he felt an alien viewpoint might be helpful. He started playing. Channel Jumper sat dreaming, glowing radiantly, but the alien seemed somewhat perturbed by the music and fidgeted nervously. Could it be, long tree wondered, that the incredible beauty of his composition might not translate acceptably to alien ears? He dismissed the thought as unlikely. Or that's a bit high, isn't it? The creature said shaking his head. Lost in the sweeping melodies, neither long tree nor Channel Jumper paid any attention to the meaningless syllables. Long tree played on, oblivious to all else soaring toward the great screaming crescendo that would culminate with the missing note. Vagely, he became aware that the creature had gotten up, and he turned a small part of his attention to the action. Long tree smiled inwardly, pleased, and turned yellow with pride to think that even a man from another planet should

14:08so appreciate his symphony that he got up and danced a strange little dance and even sang to the music. The alien held onto his ears and leaped erratically, singing, no, no, stop! It's too high! My head's bursting! Channel Jumper 2 seemed pleased by this show of appreciation, though neither of them understood the words, and long tree swept into the final notes of the rising crescendo with a gusto he had not previously displayed. He stopped where he had always stopped, and the final note came. It startled the Martians. Then the realization swept over them in glad tides of color. The symphony was complete now. With that final alien sound, long tree could win both the festival prize and red sand with it. The last note was a soft popping sound that had come from the creature from another planet. They looked to see him sagging to the ground, his head soft and pulpy. My symphonies complete long tree exclaimed brilliantly a brilliant

15:08yellow now. But Channel Jumper's yellow happiness was tinged with green. A pity, he said, the creature had to give its life in exchange for the note. I believe it really wanted to long tree said turning solemn. Did you see how it danced to the music as though in the throes of ecstasy, and it didn't change color once, it must have died happy to know it gave itself to a good cause. You could probably get by with claiming to use the creature as an auxiliary instrument, used Channel Jumper, practical once more, and eliminate any claim that he might have assisted you. But what about the festival? This one looks as though he doesn't have another note in him. There's the other one long tree reminded, the one with long hair. We can save that one until tomorrow. Of course, Channel Jumper agreed standing up. I'll go get it, and you can keep it safe here in your hole until tomorrow night. You're a good friend, Channel Jumper. Long tree began, but the other was already bounding out of sight of San Dune. Blissfully, he raised the blowstring into position and played the opening

16:08notes to his symphony. The alien lay unmoving with its head in a sticky puddle. But long tree took no notice. He didn't even consider that after the festival, he would never be able to play his symphony again in all its glorious completeness. His spinal column tingled pleasantly, and his skin turned the golden yellow of unbearable happiness. The music was beautiful. End of I Like Martian Music by Charles E. Fritch You're jamming your favorite song. And while you aren't missing a beat, you could be missing a signal from your body. It's an SOS from your kidneys, and it doesn't sound like music at all. It's silent. High blood pressure, type 2 diabetes, and other risk factors can quietly stress the kidneys leading to negative impacts on the heart. That's why you should ask your doctor about a simple urine test called UACR. Most miss the signal for hidden kidney disease and related heart risk, you shouldn't. Visit DetectTheSOS.com today

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