The Waterfront is pumping, filled with crowds of people from all over Cape Town. There’s a new live band – The Covid-Crushers – blasting out their latest track, Gotta knock down da lockdown.” Massive speakers vibrate from all directions.

And ND is amazed. He can hear the music clear as a bell. Even at this volume! No static, no interference. Hs ears are not hurting at all. This hearing aid is the best thing ever. He must remember to thank his sister again.

But sadly, he can still hear Philemon planning his conquest of Abigail.

“Yeah, no need to go hunting round the crowd when there’s a cute chick right here! For the taking, bra!”

Except …

Except ND is looking straight at Philemon and Philemon’s lips are not moving! Slowly it dawns on ND: somehow he seems able to hear other people’s thoughts. First his mother, then Abigail, and now Philemon. How is it possible? Is it this crazy new hearing aid?

ND tries an experiment. He goes to stand beside an elderly cleaning lady leaning on her broom. And yes, above the music he can hear her thoughts.

“Eish,” the cleaner is thinking. Her voice is raspy in his inner ear. “And now this problem with my fingers! No fingerprints! All that sanitiser just burnt them off – that’s what I think. So how must I apply for my new ID?”

ND goes back to Ajax and Abigail and Spider. Philemon has disappeared – good! Ajax and Spider are both glugging back beers. Abigail has an orange juice. She smiles at him for a moment, but then looks out over the crowd.

ND can hear her thoughts. They make him feel sad and hopeless in the middle of the celebrating and pounding music.

“Where’s he gone?” Abigail is thinking. “I wonder where Philemon is.”

Clearly Philemon’s charm is working its magic as usual.

* * * * *

The Waterfront.

Kqarg sees the name on his GPX2. What a strange name!

These crazy humans with all their strange place-names. Every little dot on their maps has another name. No wonder they are so backward, when they must stretch their small, single brains, trying to remember all these names!

Back on Glugga, things are simple. There are no place names. There are just numbers: River 12, Town 452 where he lives with his beloved Ntttkini, City 2 099, Mountain 287.

Kqarg dips his jet nose down for a closer look at this Waterfront and the humans assembled there. Yes, they are truly weird-looking creatures. Even weirder, they are all hurling their two arms around, shuffling their two feet this way and that, bobbing their single heads. What on Earth are they trying to do? Is this what is called ‘dancing’? What a strange way to move a body!

And then the noise hits him, hard and violent. Such an appalling racket! He feels as if all six of his eardrums are being battered by hammers. Split apart by high-speed drills. Is this awful cacophony what they call music? How can any creature from any planet enjoy such audio-torture?

Kqarg is not used to noise. Even the Gamma 10 rays are silent. Deadly, but silent. On Glugga, there is no such thing as music or singing. Mostly, people thought-speak to one another. Or thought-phone. Conversations happen mind to mind, not voices to ears.

It has always been that way. In the silence, Gluggans can hear the gentle sound of a breeze flowing through the klaati trees. Or the sighing of the salt-seas around the islands. Well, back when there were still seas on Glugga.

Now of course all the sea has been used up, mixed with Zoltran B gas to create Power. Which is why they need the seas of Earth.

“Kqarg! Come in. Immediately!” The High Commander’s thought-radio-voice is harsh and irritated. “Do you have the co-ords for your target epicentre yet?”

***

Tell us what you think: Would you want to live on a planet where music and dancing don’t exist?