About Me
A shambling boffin, hazy from a decade of dub driven excess, stumbled as he crossed the laboratory floor. The beaker flew from his shaking, sweating paw, splintering into a million tiny, shiny pieces; it's chemical contents taking to the air. Two orphan boys, busy at a bunsen, hungry for knowledge, magnesium ribbon in their grasp; looked to the fallen boffin and both gasped as two tiny slivers of glass, stained indigo, entered their eyes. And there it stayed, forever changing the colour of the boys world. The laboratory they loved and that was to become their home, never looked the same again.........and the boys? they began to experiment, to challenge & channel all that they had learned. In the dead of night, strangely coloured melodies and weird sounding lights could be seen & heard through the crack beneath the laboratory door. The townsfolk of Market Harborough would cluster together to peer in through the boundary fence and would groan in fear and consternation and make the sign against the evil eye. And then one day, all was silent. There was no more music and the colours faded to black. The townsfolk gathered one last time to stare and whisper. Where were the boys, who now themselves must surely be full-grown, shuffling, wild haired, white-coat clad creatures of the lab? But their questions were met only with silence. Soon the townsfolk began to drift away, back to their lives and their homes. And in time they forgot about the boys and their refracted, kaleidoscope stares. And the laboratory was silent and still. Then one day, some boys from the town were kicking a ball against the boundary fence when as one, they stopped and listened. From within the lab, there came a pulse, a low reverberating heartbeat, followed by a long, sighing, single note and, as the boys listened, layer upon layer upon layer of sound began to pour forth, seemingly from the very walls of the lab. Cracks began to appear in the blackened, stained windows until, as the sound reached a crescendo, with an explosion, the windows and doors blew forth and a torrent of sound of every colour known and unknown poured from the gaping holes. The young boys from the town stood, mouths agape as the sound washed over them and then they turned and ran. The last thing they saw was two tall figures, their heads surrounded by halos of sound blown hair and sparks, clad in tattered rags, emerging from the indigolab, their faces upturned, safety goggles askew.
And then there was music...
