When I see them coming, I tone down the volume so we can actually talk. There’s three or four of them. It’s weird, because I see three, but sear four. They come out of the forest, and wait for me to finish the song. Then they applaud.

I gather up my gear while watching them. They watch me gather it. They look to be watching me carefully, so I move a bit slowly to show that I'm not really dangerous.

“That’s probably the best performance we’ve heard since the world ended,” says the lady in the middle. She’s slim and crazy pretty. Looks like Zendaya from back in ‘45 or something. Maybe she is fifty, but can't tell from 30 and still one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen. She’s short, maybe five-six. Was she a movie star before? I don’t recognize her face. She's wearing a long black dress, but one unlikely to slow her down.

“Thanks. I used to be a musician.”

“Seems like you still are, man,” says the living mountain next to her in something the old folks always used to call a Mike Tyson voice. Soft, and high pitched. Six foot eight or something, and he’s gotta be four hundred pounds. And that’s not four hundred pounds of chunky. He looks part polynesian, like Fetu “The Boulder” Johnson, WWE nine-time champion, and fifth generation wrestler. “What brings you to ImagineTown?”

“I was looking for civilization. And musicians. Can’t play the whole band by myself.”

“Sounded like you were doing a pretty good job to me,” says the third lady in a light, higher pitched voice that anime films want you to think she should sound like. She’s Korean or something, average height--maybe five-nine--and looks an awful lot like Jenny Song, the supermodel.

“Uhhh, so you have a town?” I know how brilliant I sound, but sometimes my tongue trips over itself.

Jenny answers again: “Yes. We’ve built something. But you understand, we have to ask some questions. Who are you?Why are you here? What abilities have you gained? And what have you been doing for the last six months or so?”

“Well...I’m Snake, the drummer for Five Guys and their Schticks. Well, I used to be. We kinda disbanded with the end of the world, ya know. What were your other questions?"

"Why are you here at our town?"

"I was lookin' for a band, dude. uhhh. Dudette! Anyone here a musician?"

"No one has been playing when we're together. Perhaps we can ask. What did you say your abilities were?"

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"I’m pretty fast now, but mostly what I want to do is drum.”

“Hey, Snake, I’m Al,” says the giant. “I spent most of my upgrades on strength, and I’m a Geomancer.”

“Dude! Does that mean you can find things? Geography and shit?”

“Geo means earth. Earth magic.” He suddenly gets taller as the earth under him rises into a pillar, making him like seventeen feet tall. “What kind of magic do you use?”

“Oh, dude, that’s way cool. I use sound magic. It helps with my drumming.”

As Al sinks back down, the Korean supermodel speaks up, letting a bit of a russian accent seep through, ““I’m Yulia, and I specialized in xiphomancy.” She picks a stick up from the forest behind her, tosses it up in the air, pulls two shorter swords from her pockets, and moves fast. Five pieces of the stick hit the ground, and the swords are back in her pockets before I can blink. Not faster than I can track with my echo. She’s a lot better with her swords than I am with my sticks. But I’m still about twice as fast. “Can we see what you can do with your sound-magic?”

I demonstrate a couple sound walls, and some magnification, some sound recording and playback. I even demonstrate the reverb sound effect.

“Mary,” says Zendaya by way of introduction. She nods at me. “I survived the first month mostly by using osteomancy, and I focused on improving my soul.”

She tosses a wooden board on the ground near me, probably from her pockets. Then tosses something in the air. A second later, a hundred small white wood chips are puncturing the board, spelling out the question “How did you survive?” Wait. Those are bone chips.

I think it was a bit of a threat. I’m pretty sure it was. But that’s cool. I’d be worried about flame-chick too.

“I’m more than a little bit fast, and I was able to stun the monkeys with loud noises. Then I shoved a golf club through it’s eyeball.”

Al busts a gut. “So you were golfing instead of training?”

“Of course not,” I say, insulted. “I was drumming.”

The two ladies crack a smile too, and Mary chuckles before asking, “Were you not focused on surviving?”

“I can fight to survive. Or I can drum to live. I’m not about just surviving, man. Uhhh, lady. And who’s the fourth guy?” I’ve determined that the invisible shadow, but completely visible to searing guy looks male.

“How did you find me?” A six-four, thin guy fades into view. In the old days that would’ve been really tall. But kids born since 2000 have been getting taller as adults at nearly an inch per decade. He’s got dark brown hair, pale skin, and is wearing a yarmulke like Fozzie used to.

“Echolocation, dude,” I say, “I don’t have to use my eyes to see. Do you have some sort of Illusion magic?”

“It’s photomancy, or light magic. I’m Chaim.”

“Light because there’s a crack in everything?” I ask.

“Shevirat HaKelim,” says Chaim.

“Leonard Cohen,” I respond. "At least that's where I know it from. Dude was a bodacious lyricist. So, about that village? Do I have to fight someone to get in. I don't really like fighting."

“No fighting necessary," says Yulia. "Will you be staying?”

“Dude! Sounds great. Thanks.”

The five of us head back along the forest path, and after a few minutes, get back to the town.