Round 6.3 [Reminiscence v. Time To Die]

Reminiscence (Shockah rank: #13, Burley rank: #3)

v.

Time to Die (Shockah rank: #6, Burley rank: #10)

BEND DOWN AND TOUCH YOUR TOES!

I could/should/might've called a vote here, but I decided I wanted to press a bit farther into Reminiscence. Remember? Remember remembering? Both our only fan (it doesn't have to be this way. You could be a fan too) and I gave so much more credence to the idea than clearwater Shockah here, that I feel a bit obligated to bring it up again.

If you told me "Burl,"

and I'd interrupt. "Don't call me that. I ain't a folk singer."

"Burl," you'd continue, "you have to write Reminiscence right now."

"Okay." I'd say as I broke into a rousing chorus of Big Rock Candy Mountain. (I'm a-goin' to stay where you sleep all day, Where they hung the jerk who invented work, in the Big Rock Candy Mountains) while thinking of my plan of attack.

It might read like this (umm, this is, at best, a "loose" interpretation of your 'In a World'. I riffed--forgive me): Our protagonist, a Chauncy Gardener type without the capability to remember anything, stumbles into a secret memory cell, where people gather in dark basements to share contraband from their childhoods. The police bust the party, and our man is mistaken for a member of the group. He is rounded up, and his bemused silence, or pleasant abstract comments madden the detectives interviewing him. They decide he must be the mastermind behind the parties, and subject him to strange procedures designed to find out exactly what his fond memories are. When they fail, and decide that they are being bested by this mastermind, they get a search warrant for his house, but they can't find out where he lives, because he keeps claiming that he doesn't live anywhere. The judge holds him in contempt, and they put him in a holding cell.

While there, he is exposed to hardened criminals who do run under ground memory cells. It's their business. Since he's no squealer, he is obviously no fan of the coppers, and they write down their address for him to look them up when he's out of jail. Called in front of the judge and demanded to produce an address of his house, he simply rattles off the address that the hardened criminals gave him.

There, the police find the largest cash of contraband memorabilia ever collected in one place. Our character becomes public enemy number one, and is convicted. One woman, though, believes him and wants to save him. His mother--but, since she hasn't seen him in many years, she can't talk about the times they spent together. She goes on talk shows begging on his behalf.

One childhood playmate--a very sweet woman whom our character was always good to--rises up against the system, and starts bombing the government offices with huge pinatas filled with nostalgia. Underground resistance starts up, led by her, while the trial of the century is going on. Our man stands tall--well, kind of dumb and smiling, but the trial goes on in full bluster mode. Violent protest erupts on the street as he is sentenced to life on the prison planet.

And there, he lives, alone and happy in a stark and beautiful land.

Okay--that would be one interpretation. Does that spark anything for you?