“It is not recommended that you skip the explanation," says the talking plant.

“I don’t want to skip the explanation. I want my drums. And some playtime. And then let’s do the explanation," I plead. “I have 137 Thaums, you said. I want drums. I need an hour to drum with, and then you can do your talking thing. I’m a member of fucking drummers anonymous man, I need my drums."

“Fucking. Drummers. Anonymous. is no longer necessary … ”

“That’s what she said”

Mr. Green kills the mood by ignoring my joke, “We have removed all sources of chemical addiction from your transpiled essence signatures.”

“Whatev’s Mr. P. How do I buy drums? How’s your selection?”

“Our selection of percussion instruments is quite substantial. It would take roughly 97 hours to describe the first 30,000 entries. To buy them, you give me thaums, and I reconstitute them into drums."

“How much is a set like the one in my room? With stool. And sticks. And a ‘nome. Can I get my tunes too?"

“The drum set from your room. 4 snares, 3 “toms”, and bass. Ride, 2 crash, hi-hat, bell and china. Two-layer xylophone. Marimba, triangle, 3 tympani, and cowbell?"

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“Yeah. That one. Sticks and brushes and mallets and stuff too. And my stool."

“Would you like that set in your colors?"

“Black and green paisley. Rock on. What’s the damage, A-man?"

“As currently constituted, your set costs 14 r-thaums."

“Shiiip iiiit!"

Ignoring me, the plant continued, “Unfortunately, with electricity and sound working differently here, and this being the internal strength dimension, we cannot build an electric metronome. On the other hand, the shop provides cognition upgrades, and a perfect internal clock is both available and inexpensive. Merely 27 R-Thaums, and it does everything a metronome can do, albeit internally.

“Dude. Did you use to work in sales for Muskorp? Yeah I want that. What about the tunes?

“The tunes again are not available externally, but we can upgrade your memory to have perfect auditory recall.

“Dude. No need. Already got it. I never forget a beat. I just like to hear the other tracks while I play. And do you have something to manage volume too? Like an amp?"

“Upon review of your scan, you do indeed seem to be correct about your rhythmic memory. As to amplifiers, external amps require electricity, and are thus unavailable. Various forms of acoustic thaumaturgy would do the job, and are in the store, but you cannot afford it. "

“Thaumaturgy? That’s like magic, huh? Albus Potter shit? Dude. Whatever. 41 R Thoms. Oh. Thaums. That makes sense. Hit me man. The kit and the brain-’nome.

My warmup bedroom drum kit appears out of the air, positioned precisely by the bed like it was back home. Kit, stool, colors, and sticks all as they were.

And suddenly, I know what time it is. It’s 6 minutes and 12 seconds past eleven o’clock in the morning. And I can feel the seconds ticking when I pay attention.

“Talk later, plant-boy,” I say as I slide onto the stool, and start warming up to Moby Dick.