[tempo: 148 BPM; heavy groove with grindcore bursts and sudden half-time drops] [tone: bewildered, brutal, hilarious, fascinated, increasingly exhilarated] [vocal style: solo Prophet; natural baritone, dry narration, rough melodic hooks, occasional shouted breakthroughs; Ork mob used as rhythmic call-and-response] [instrumentation: down-tuned guitars, filthy bass, acoustic drums, double-kick, chains, anvils, scrap-metal percussion, engine hits, sparse Glitch-tar] [INTRO — FIELD NOTES] [distant engines] [metal scraping] [one enormous impact] *CLANG* [Prophet — calm] All right. New reality. New civilization. Large. Green. Extremely armed. Apparently shouting is infrastructure. [distant mob] WAAAAAGH! [Prophet] Mm. Noted. [low guitar enters] [VERSE I — THIS VEHICLE IS AN ARGUMENT] [groove begins unevenly] I found a truck. At least— I think it’s a truck. Three wheels on one side. Two on the other. An engine where an engine should not be. Another engine because apparently the first engine was lonely. [metal strike] The exhaust pipe is screaming. The steering wheel appears decorative. The driver has painted flames on the door and insists this has improved the situation. [engine rev] It starts. [Prophet] ... Of course it does. [band slams in] [REFRAIN I — OBSERVATION] This should collapse. This should explode. This should become a cautionary diagram. Instead— [engine roar] —it goes faster. [distant Orks] WAAAGH! [Prophet] I have concerns. [VERSE II — MEKBOY LOGIC] [chains become percussion] I met the engineer. That was my second mistake. He showed me a weapon. I asked what it does. He said: “More.” I asked: “More what?” He stared at me like I was stupid. [beat] Fair. He welded another barrel to the side. Then another. Then something that may once have been plumbing. [rapid drum burst] I asked about recoil. He laughed. I asked about accuracy. He laughed harder. I asked about safety. [all instruments stop] Everybody laughed. [full band detonates] [CHORUS I — MORE DAKKA] [huge groove-metal chorus] More noise! More speed! More metal! More teeth! If it rattles— hit it! If it stops— kick it! If it explodes— [Ork mob] GOOD! [Prophet] Apparently failure has been reclassified as entertainment. [Ork mob] WAAAAAGH! [VERSE III — THE GROOVE APPEARS] [scrap rhythm becomes tighter] At first I thought the percussion was accidental. Hammer. Chain. Engine block. Gunfire. Something metallic rolling down stairs. Again. Again. Again. [drums lock into pattern] Then— I heard it. [Prophet — quieter] Oh no. [groove settles] There’s a rhythm. The bastards have a rhythm. [Ork stomps join] Boot. Clang. Boot. Clang. Engine. Shout. Gunshot. Laugh. Boot. Clang. Boot. Clang. [Prophet] That’s— actually— [heavy guitar syncs] Oh, come on. [WAAAGH INTERRUPTION] [far-off thousands] WAAAAAAAAAGH! [the cry becomes rhythmic] WAA—WAA—WAA—WAAAGH! [drums answer] WAA—WAA—WAA—WAAAGH! [Prophet] Stop making this catchy. [VERSE IV — WEIRDBOY WEATHER] [half-time dread] Then the air started buzzing. Teeth hurt. Lights bent. One of them started glowing. [Prophet] Ah. Psychic phenomenon. Finally. Something sensible. [wrong-room distortion] Green lightning. Everybody cheers. Reality folds. Half the mob vanishes. [brief silence] [Prophet] ... Where did they go? [distant Waaagh from very far away] WAAAAAGH! [Prophet] Of course. [BRIDGE — IT SHOULDN’T WORK] [instruments reduce to bass, drums, metal pulse] [Prophet — reflective beneath the noise] I’ve seen empires held together by law. Religions held together by fear. Worlds held together by habit. Machines held together by mathematics. And you— [metal groan] you built this out of scrap, bad judgment, momentum, and screaming. [engine sputters] It shouldn’t work. [engine catches] [Prophet] ... It shouldn’t fucking work. [entire mob] WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! [full band explodes] [CHORUS II — COHERENCE DOES NOT REQUIRE ELEGANCE] [fastest groove] No blueprint! No restraint! No respect for load-bearing anything! Add another engine! Bolt on another gun! Paint something until physics gets embarrassed! [Ork mob] FASTA! [Prophet] You call this engineering?! [Ork mob] WAAAGH! [Prophet] That was not an answer! [Ork mob] WAAAGH! [Prophet] Apparently it was. [BREAKDOWN — FIELD THEORY COLLAPSES] [industrial breakdown] [Prophet — breathless] All right. New theory. It works because they believe it works. No. Too simple. It works because enough of them expect it. No. Still too clean. It works because— [huge crash] [Prophet] ... You know what? I withdraw the question. [Ork mob] WAAAAAGH! [Prophet] Yes. Very rigorous. Thank you. [VERSE V — THE UNCOMFORTABLE RECOGNITION] [groove slows, heavy] [Prophet] That’s the part I dislike. Not the guns. Not the screaming. Not even the truck. It’s this: I recognize the principle. Broken system. Unexpected result. Everybody insists it cannot work. So naturally— something works anyway. [brief Glitch-tar note] [Prophet] I hate how much I understand this. [Ork nearby] WAAAGH? [Prophet] Don’t make it weird. [FINAL SCENE — THE STAFF] [groove drops out] [workshop ambience] [welding] [hammering] A Mek has been staring at me for six minutes. I assumed he was thinking. That was optimistic. He points at the De-bug Staff. [long silence] [Mek — implied] “Wot’s dat do?” [Prophet looks at staff] [small electrical hum] [Prophet looks at Mek] [Prophet looks outward] ... Oh. No. [several Orks gather] [Prophet] It opens— [beat] Actually, never mind. [Mek pounds fist into palm] [Ork mob begins softly] Waaagh... [Prophet] No. Waaagh... No. No, no— [drums return] WAAAGH! [Prophet] Do not give them— WAAAGH! —ideas— [entire army] WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! [FINAL CHORUS — NOW THEY HAVE A PROJECT] [maximum chaos, groove still clear] More metal! More engines! More impossible parts! Somebody stole my measuring tape! Why is there a cannon attached to the ladder?! [Ork mob] WAAAGH! [Prophet] That is not what the staff does! [Ork mob] WAAAGH! [Prophet] STOP IMPROVING IT! [Ork mob] WAAAAAAAAAGH! [Prophet — finally shouting with them] FINE! ONE TEST! THEN WE STOP! [entire mob] WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! [OUTRO — RESULT] [everything suddenly cuts] [silence] [distant engine cough] [something enormous powers up] [Prophet] ... That should not work. [one metal plate falls] *CLANG* [End.]
