Hybrid

 Ebott, home to the famous Mt. Ebott after which the surrounding land is named, and also the oldest mage institute in the world. Most people don’t know that; they can’t see past the brick and mortar buildings. White Castle College has been training mages since before the Great War, and no not World War One, though that’s what offcial human history regards as the Great War. Any mage worth his salt could recite for you the events of the Monster-Human War and how they were sealed beneath the mountain. It’s how the school came to be founded. The Council of Seven gave up their souls to put up the barrier, a traditional role that has been upheld since the times of kings and castles. Once a year the mages hold a massive vigil in honor of the dead and for remembrance of the monsters who died as well.

The school does have a full staff of contemporary professors and regular human students attend; these non magical individuals are called mundies in most circles. It’s just easier to say than ‘humans who lack magical talent or the ability to manifest their soul at will’. So really White Castle is a college like any other, only certain students like yourself have a few extra curriculars not offered to others. To anyone not in the loop it would seem like you were in a high honors society, but to any mage they would know you as one of their own.

Your parents, like so many others, are alumni of White Castle and you were destined to attend from a young age. Ever since you were ten you could harness your magic in creative ways. This drew the attention of the school obviously. When they contacted you freshman year of highschool, offering a scholarship and attendance to the Bard’s School your parents couldn’t be more proud. That’s when you learned your magic had a name, that you could discover more about it, about your people, about your history. Needless to say you were thrilled.

Now here you are, halfway through your junior year sitting a lecture hall. It’s a required course on magical projection. Something bards are supposed to be good at. “In summary,” your smiley professor boomed, “projection is the utilization of a physical object, or attribute to cast magic in a high concentration. All mage types can use projection in some form.”

You spun your pencil over your thumb, the graphite point darting over the page. Your magic warped the lines, forming them into a word for word transcript of what Professor Waltner was saying. He was a rotund little man, with a deep voice and calm demeanor, not to mention the best band director you’d ever met. Though, what would one expect from a master bard? His magic demands greatness.

You strike another line over the page as he continues speaking. A soul melody from one of the nearby students interrupts your train of thought momentarily, casing a doodle of music notes skittering down the side of your paper. You sigh, only mildly irritated. That’s going to bother you all day, isn’t it. Peachy.

Professor Waltner keeps rambling on about the differences that emotion can play in projection and how soul manifestation could increase the projection’s strength but left the mage wide open for attack. That’s why it’s prudent for mages to work in teams of three, a Bard, a Warrior, and a Priest soul, or maybe a ‘Jack-of-all-Souls’ filling in one of those positions. Your mind ran down through the basics and you watched your pencil lines ripple feverishly into text. Warriors were naturals at combat magic with boosts to their ATK and HP, they couldn’t heal to save their lives though. Priest mages were pros at barriers and healing but they had low HP and high DEF. As the converse of warrior, Priest mages would have to learn some form of martial art if they wanted to fight. Bards are more adept at communication and illusion magic, they can fight or heal decently well if they really work at it but their skills lie in avoiding harm or combat altogether. Jacks are the balance of everything, neither deficient nor excelling in any one area.They have to work especially hard for mastery but once they have it, they’d be a force to recon with.

The sharp cry of the bell caused you to look up. Your magic had done a faithful job of recording the lecture even if you’d stopped paying attention at the end there. Thank you years of boring high school classes. The music scrawled down the side of your notes stood out in a nearly blue color that sent your left eye twitching slightly. That was the fifth time this week your magic picked up on someone else rhythm. You’d need to pour your soul into another music piece soon because this was getting out of hand.

You folded up your textbooks in a cloth handkerchief, yanking the cloth up over the bindings and shaking it flat again. Nice and simple. Reminiscent of the sleight of hand often employed by stage magicians. No one was going to accuse you of not trying when you had the best hiding methods for your school supplies. Many off your classmates had already approached you about the technique. You taught them with a smile and the clause they bought you lunch. The cafe burritos are your weakness. Oh and don’t forget the chipotle sauce. Your roomie, a mundie, had teased you mercilessly about it. It was all in good fun though.

Students filled out into the courtyards, the large campus sprawling across the mountainside. The clock tower chimed five and your gaze flicked to the rapidly darkening sky. This far from the city you could make out the shimmer of stars appearing. Today would be a long haul in The Library if you didn’t get a move on. You sigh lightly, another melody clawing at the back of your mind. You kept your mouth shut, though. It’s in poor taste to sing someone else’s soul-song without asking. Especially poor as you were now surrounded by a mix of mage and mundie students. You walked briskly through the central garden to your dorm, The Lion House. There were a few other student houses that weren’t exclusive to mages, in fact the vast majority of them were populated solely by mundies. The honors houses were more like larger sorority and fraternity homes, Capricorn for the men and Aquarius for the women. You weren’t the only mage who’d rather be living with mundies though. It’s good practice for handling your magic around other people later in life.

All dorms had an entry hall for security, guests would have to be signed in by the person they were visiting and must leave at sundown. Students had to turn over their I.D.s to be let in otherwise their roomie had to sign them in as a guest. It made finding the card difficult if you lost it in your room. Entryways are always painted off white. Frankly it looks more like a prison or mental asylum when you first walk in, what with the fluorescent lighting and metal security doors. Not to mention the steel shutter over the security check-in window and wall of mailboxes that require two keys.

The dorm monitor looked up from her magazine when you walked in. You gave the stern looking woman a wave. She’s a mundie too, most of the school’s population are mundies actually. There are maybe a thousand mages on campus excluding the teachers. More if you count the graduates that moved on to open White Castle branches in other nations. You passed over your student card and she punched you in, unlocking the door to the lobby for you.

Gold assaulted your vision as it frequently did. Every dorm hall was painted in a bold color with the rooms being muted shades of the same hue. That meant earthtones, not that you minded much. It gave students the chance to choose what colors would pop in their own rooms. You hustled up the steps, your school messenger bag swung over your left shoulder. You’d tucked the handkerchief in your jacket pocket, rusting around your bag as you floundered for your room key.

“Care, I’m home.” You called out into the dark hall once you finally got the door open. Stupid thing always sticks. There is a suspicious lack of noise in the room. Caroline’s boyfriend was here before you left. Yep, those are his short on the floor. Okay. You slide into your bedroom intent on not repeating the Incident from the previous month. You never wanted to drink again after that.

Your room was a warm shade of light citrine with cool accent colors of blues and greens. Forest scenes hung on the wall in one of those segmented paintings your mother adores. There are a couple of trophies from piano and violin competitions from when you were younger bookend-ing your collection of fantasy novels. You loved pretty much anything that had to do with magic and monsters even if it was horribly inaccurate. Your favorites being the Tolkien Classics. You did enjoy some of Lewis’s works though it was mostly isolated to the Chronicles. And who doesn’t enjoy a Lovecraftian horror every once in a blue moon?

The shelf was topped with a storm of plushies that you accumulated from the age of five, adding one each year. The first was by far your favorite. You’d got it on All Hallows Eve, an important holiday for mages, when your grandmother came to visit. She knitted it for you by hand with just a little hint of magic. It was a skeleton holding a pumpkin, dressed and adorned with Day of the Dead flare. The craft worked so that if you squeeze him, you smell pumpkin spice and fall leaves.

The room layout was simple and fairly standard, though you did pull the bed away from the far wall to make room for a small server rack. You didn’t run it that often but with the separate thermostat system, you could keep your room in the mid sixties where you like it. You mage friend, Colin, teased you about it. “You’re cold blooded like those dragons you're always reading about!” You wanted to remind him what a WoW nerd he was half the time. Besides your tech, there’s an electric keyboard plugged into your laptop resting at the foot of your bed. A closet on the right wall and a large window with your desk on the left. The room was sized in such a way that no corner was more than five strides away from the next. It felt cramped, sure, but it was your space, your sanctuary away from home. Besides you didn’t feel like you needed that much space and Care had asked for the larger room nicely.

Shaking your head to get your mind back on track, you deposited your bag on the soft blue sheets and plucked your handkerchief from your pocket before hanging up the jacket. Now it was a matter of doing calculus and reviewing the history of the barrier for an oral report in your Magics and Archives class. While you could probably get away with calling the history textbook a fantasy novel, you’d rather wait for Caroline to be asleep or out. You slammed your head onto the desk with a groan. That left Calc. “Math, why? Why do you hate me?”

Well, moping will get you nowhere and you have a lot of other projects to work on. You propped your head up on an upturned palm, leaning your elbow onto to the desk. The worksheets spread out over the cool wood contained a large variety of mental torture. You pencil touched down on the first of many strokes.

About three fourths of the way through your work you heard hushed voices coming from the main living room. Care was shooing her boy out of your dorm. Playful arguing. Gods they harmonized so well together, why couldn’t you find that? ‘True love’ and all that. You dated in highschool, there was one you were really serious about but your songs just couldn’t match up. Whether that’s because the both of you were still growing, not yet set in your ways as much, or if the underlying dissonance really meant you wouldn’t work out. In the end you may never know. You agreed to stop seeing each other and just drifted apart from there.

There was a knock that interrupted your wandering thoughts. Caroline leaned her head in, a goofy grin on her face. Her bright shock of auburn wavy hair thrown all askew and her ice blue eyes shining with her inner light. Definitely the afterglow. “Girl, have I ever thanked you for the assist way back when?”

“You mean two months ago at Candy’s? Telling you ‘Look at him! He’s the one!”’ You lean back in your swivel chair and lift your pencil triumphantly.

She giggled and came fully into the room. “Yeah, yeah. You were right. I get it.” Care flopped down on your bed with a happy sigh. The navy tank top she wore bunched up on her sides, the drawstring of her college sweats were sticking out. She’d gotten dressed in a rush. “But really, thanks for helping me get over my nerves.”

“Hey, we’re besties. ‘t’s what I do.” You spin your pencil one more time before laying it down. Eh, you can do the rest tomorrow. Caroline sat up and started tapping at the electronic keyboard, sitting with her legs crossed and a quiet, thoughtful look on her face. It was still hooked up to the audio editing software you used; the recording mic had been unplugged. Though she wore a smile, there was something off with her rhythm. She felt sad. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s... “ Her fingers stilled and she quickly flashed a hand up to smear tears away from her eyes. You could tell she’d been holding this in for a while, hiding it well, but not well enough. You might not have noticed if your magic wasn’t so sensitive recently. “Well, yes. My parents are splitting up and I might not be able to come back next semester. It’s nothing certain but I just... You’re a good friend. Jack is amazing. Colin is hilarious -seriously he’s a catch go get ‘em- and.... I’m going to miss all of you.”

The two of you stared at each other while your internal debate raged. She is worth it, Caroline is your friend you can bend your rule one time for her. Just... play a song. “Care, scooch.” Your roommate shifted over as you went and sat before the instrument. You just took a moment to breath, to feel her soul humming in the space next to yours. The complementary tones you two had. Your magic tickled in your fingers and throat as you began to play. “See you Again” by Carrie Underwood started with the flow of her soul and had a upward pull. As the notes danced from your fingers and words slipped off your tongue you threw everything you felt for Caroline into the air. The world became the two of you, just existing together. “Say goodbye turned around and you were gone...”

As the ivory stilled against your fingers and the pulsing glow faded from behind your eyes, you heard Care suck in a breath. She flung her arms around you with a tearful laugh. “That! That right there, you beautiful jerk, is something I’m going to miss so much!”

“I-I’m not that great, really.”

She pulled back to glare at you in that playful way. “Not that great? Not that great! You made me feel feelings and you’re saying you’re not that great!” Your roommate shook your shoulders slightly. Her soul sparkled in shades of blue behind her eyes and it put a smile on your face. This is how she should be, energetic and grinning like mad. “For that awesome song, you are going to let me cook dinner tonight!”

Oh no. You love your roomie, you really do. Her cooking? Not so much. “Wait, Care, you don’t ha-” but she was already rushing out of the room into the tiny kitchenette. You slowly followed after her, she was probably dead set on this and nothing was going to change her mind. Resigned to your fate, you flop down on the couch, an old, somewhat beat up, red spring set. Your feet propped up on the chocolate brown beanbag chair and head hanging back. Ah, waiting for the death of your taste buds, goodie.

No, no you shouldn’t be thinking that. She’s having a hard time, you just cheered her up, with your magic. She’ll be hypersensitive to the shifts in your mood you need to stay positive. Your eyes flick around the familiar room, everything here is warm colors. Reds, oranges, even some darker browns. You close your eyes and hum your song, the song of your own soul. It doesn’t sound like anything to you, though you know it’s there. Sometime you can hear it faintly when you make your soul manifest but you can’t ever remember a specific tune, you just hum some notes until it sounds right. Your fingers itch and tap out an underlying rhythm, the higher notes are taken by tapping the flat of your other hand to your thigh. You wouldn’t call this song upbeat but it’s not slow or sad either. That’s part of what fascinated you about souls; they each have a unique sound with a very flexible register that shifts with a person’s mood.

You couldn’t help but wonder what monster souls were like. All the books say they had them too, there are a lot of complex instructions for bards about the proper way to communicate with monster soul. Reminders of how fragile they are by comparison to human souls. There was also notes on how a bard could easily identify a monster’s soul because of some intrinsic quality to the sound, but that portion of the scroll had been too damaged for the translator to decipher. It’s too bad really.

The smell of Caroline’s cooking prompted your stomach to growl and your humming faltered in embarrassment. You forgotten that you hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She laughed good naturedly. “Almost done, promise.”

Welp, you’re done with singing for a while.

Care slides a plate in front of you and you glance at the microwave clock. 6:23, wow how long had you been thinking? It didn’t feel that long! Oh well, you were hungry and this baked chicken actually looked really good. You could cry salty tears of joy when you took you first bite. How was this something Caroline had made? It’s so good.

That’s when your roomie flips on the TV to her DVR recordings and it’s almost all the cooking channel’s programs. Oh, that explains a lot. You gave her a sideways glance and arched an eyebrow. She just chuckled nervously and shrugged. “I, um... wanted to cook a romantic dinner for Jack and I at some point.”

“Girl, you got it bad.”

“Nah uh.”

“Yeah hu, since when were you into the stereotypical romantic gestures instead of fart jokes and anime night?”

Her face flushed slightly as she spiraled into a flustered tyriad of how “Mew Mew Kissy Cutie is a classic magical girl anime with plenty of romantic stuff!” You couldn’t really hear her over how hard you were laugh. Ah, you loved this girl.

“Okay, okay, okay. MMKC is a classic, but I still like the manga better.” You gave her shoulder a playful poke. “Besides, we both know the obscure animes tend to be hidden treasures.”

“Diamonds in the ruff?”

You were grinning at each other and broke out into a hasty and off key rendition of “Never Has A Friend Like Me”.

“Oh, we should totally marathon Disney movies tonight. Neither of us have classes until late tomorrow anyway.”

You smile faltered a little bit when you remembered your work. “Ah, sorry Care. I promised to help Colin study tonight.”

The smile on her face widens slightly and she wiggles her brows suggestively. “Oh? It wouldn’t happen to be anatomy would it.”

Without even stopping to consider if it’s a good idea, you grab the pillow beside you and throw it at her head. “Care, no!”

She ducks you assult and laughs harder. “Care, yes~”

With an playfully angry huff you eat the rest of your food and she flipped through the channels, stopping on a movie about umbrellas and zombies or something. Honestly your mind is elsewhere already. You drop your dishes in the sink with a “I’ll wash these when I get back” and duck back into your room. Deciding you want something a little warmer at night you slide on a bright green undershirt with a more neutral blue plaid button up on top. Your jeans are fine and you swap out your sandals for a pair of black toms. Just as an extra precaution against the cold, you slide on a black fauxfur, hooded vest.

You tie your handkerchief around your neck loosely and swipe up your messenger bag. Double checking that you have your student card and room key, you wave to Care and head out the door. The hallway is silent aside from the muted voices drifting from the other rooms around you. You’re alone and it’s a breath of fresh air. No more hiding and suppressing your soul to blend in, even if it’s just for a second or two. You let out a slow breath, feel the glow swelling in your chest, the buzz of magic down your back, arms, legs, up your neck. The snap of focus and awareness in your mind. You can feel the world turning, the breath of life all around you. But your mind brushes against the barrier, the constant presence beneath your feet. Humans milling about in the campus blithely unawares of history, doomed to repeat it should the barrier finally fall. That is why White Castle exists, to redeem mages, and all of humanity, to monster kind. The ones that remember, the ones that know, the ones that learn from history.

You pull yourself in as you turn the corner to the lobby, no need to freak anyone out with the lightshow your soul was putting on. Colin is waiting just inside the door for you. His slim figure draped in a baggy sweater and skinny jeans. He had the scruffy facial hair one expected from a teen trying to grow a beard but not quite committed to the idea. His hair was cut short at the sides with a crop of black hair-dyed orange curling over his brow. His dark thin eyebrows were pulled taunt as he scrolled through his phone. His hazel tinted eyes flicking over the screen. He must have been calling you because your cell went off in your pocket and his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“You seem impatient today, Cols. What’s up?” You pulled your phone out to wave at him. He grinned somewhat sheepishly, the backpack the barely hung on his shoulders shifting when he shrugged.

“Prof wants to see us in The Library sooner than later, she said it was important.” His tenor was pinched in a slightly muffled pitch that set you ill at ease. For a guy as laid back as Colin, he sure seemed agitated. His fingers twitched slightly and his eyes kept darting to the door.

“Professor Stillwater? Does that mean...” You don’t think you can finish that sentence. Stillwater is in charge of student discipline and guarding the barrier. If she’s involved then.

Colin only nods, and all airs are off. The two of you speed through the campus to the school library, not stopping until you get to the very back shelf of the archives. There’s a door here, old and worn and made of oak. Anyone who was a mundie would be unable to open it. It was cast so that only mages or those with the potential to be mages could pass through. Behind it was The Library.

Stepping through one might feel they’ve traveled back in time. The room on the other side was entirely masonry with wrought iron torch sconces. The air was heavy with musty smells of parchment and leather and smoke. There were some more modern spaces but their was no electricity in The Library. Didn’t need any mundies on the board asking questions on the utility bills. Consequently all the fires were magic to make them easy to tend and outlasting any normal flame.

Margery Stillwater, the oldest mage in the college and unofficial dean stood facing a large fireplace at the far end of the main chamber. Her dark violet mage robes hung straight from her lithe shoulders. Looking at her, you couldn’t tell her age, she seemed maybe in her late fifties, but you knew she’d celebrated her hundred and twelfth birthday two months ago. She took a deep breath, her regal appearance turning to face you both. A third student had been standing a short distance from the entrance, warrior if you were feeling him right. Ice trickled up your spine. A bard, a priest, and a warrior mage. Colin shifting next to you indicated his realizing this as well.

The two of you made your way into the room proper to stand beside the other student. You waited patiently while Stillwater took a deep breath. “I felt a disturbance in the barrier. Something has happened. Not to long ago another child slipped through the wards I had placed on the forest and plunged headlong into the mountain. It seems they too have met a terrible fate.”

The young men on either side of you clenched their fists. One because he felt the child’s death to be injustice, the other because he was sorry he couldn’t have stopped it. Your hand gently touches to Colin, your soul murmuring a soothing melody through the contact. “There’s nothing you could have done, Col. If not even Stillwater could stop them, they must have been very determined to get through.” You whisper up at your friend. The warrior to your right flinches at your choice of wording. For a mage to specifically name a trait from the seven dominant, and not use a synonym implies that the person whom they’re speaking of has magical talent.

“How can you be sure?” The justice minded student turned to you, his dark eyes flicking over your face. The slight roundness in his face and tone to his skin reminded you a boy you knew long ago. His question was clearly directed to the child being magically gifted.

“What else could explain them being able to break a barrier, even a small one? If I recall professor Stillwater’s last lecture, most barriers are made from sheer willpower and even the weakest could withstand a high speed bullet impact.”

The eldest magic user sighed softly. “You aren’t wrong, child, but I’m more inclined to believe that the amount of time they’ve already survived is an indication of some magical talent. Whatever meager amount they had, their will drove them onward, and falling through the barrier had increased their power a thousand times over.”

Colin suck in a sharp breath. “Would that mean that the monster who claimed all seven human souls to break the barrier would be wielding a power comparable to the First Council and then some?” Worry tinted his voice and you felt your eyes widen.

Stillwater lowered her eyes. “Let’s hope it hasn’t come to that, that the monster will let go that horrible strength was the barrier has fallen. If not, it may be war all over again. There is no guarantee we will be able to stop it either.”

Your throat felt tight as you took a deep breath of your own, willing yourself to be strong. “You’ve called us together, this is the typical field team structure. You want us to ready for a fight without mobilizing the entire College.”

She gave you a weary smile. “Yes, I want the three of you to be ready for the barrier to fall. There is no guarantee it will happen tonight, but soon. Get to know each other’s fighting and healing abilities, formulate strategies, and run a few practice matches. You can use the gymnasium downstairs. Please try to get rest. you’ll be watching the barrier until late tomorrow and reporting any changes. Do not split up under any circumstances. Understood?”

“Ma’am!” The three of you said in unison. Her time in the military had definitely given her the commander voice.

With her dismissal Colin and you moved towards the gym with your new teammate at your heels. As you walk into the vaulted gym room, two basketball hoops set opposed on either side with a row of training targets set up along the far wall, the three of you awkwardly shuffle to the center of the room. “So... introduction?” Colin mumbles while scratching at the back of head. You gave a brisk nod and your name. The warrior is Arther Ming, mostly chinese american, but there an extensive list to his ancestry. The name does sound similar to you but for the life of you, you just can’t place him. You think that you saw a spark of recognition in Arther too when you’d said your name but you couldn’t be sure.

The boys rocked on their heels slightly, looking at you. Oh right, it’s the bard’s job to keep the group cohesive. “Um...” Your mind flickered through the bard’s other roles as you thought through what should be done. The warrior attacks, the bard supports, the priest defends. In the case of either of them being taken out of commision you are the back up plan. You have to understand each other completely. Between you and Colin that wouldn’t be too hard, you’ve known each other since senior year of high school, but not Arther. “Well, it’s so short notice... Manifesting our souls would be the best, right?”

You got mumbles of “yeah, sure,” and “of course.” You plop yourself down on the floor and the other two follow suit. “I guess I’ll go first?” Colin put a hand to his sternum and pulled back, spilling warm creamy orange light into the room. You had seen the glow in his eyes many times prior, but not actually seen him . It’s a comforting shine and your mind detected the quiet steady beat, the rhythm that is your friend. It drew a smile onto your face. Arther gave a soft laugh, similarly entranced by the light. His tense shoulder slacking as you all basked in the feeling of magic.

“Alright, I’ll go next.” Arther leaned forward with a fire in his eyes. Instead of a hand to his chest, like most mages do, Arther shifted his posture into one of meditation, his soul burning to life in his hands. Looking at him directly was like staring at the sun. Blindingly bright to the point where it hurt slightly. He was definitely a justice soul, yellow gleaming out to mix with the orange tints already there. You noted that their songs were fairly complementary, they weren’t going to be fighting to redefine their roles. That would make this a lot easier on all of you. Also, you got the distinct impression that Arther would rather be called Ming. There was a complex emotional reason behind it but you didn’t want to pry. Something to do with his father passing away at a young age.

You shook of the wave of sadness you picked up on and straightened yourself. The melody between the two was incomplete. A base from Colin, and midrange dominant tempo from Ar-Ming. With a smile, you called out your own soul, the rush of magic through your body and there, floating before your chest was a emerald green soul. The light, your light, shifted into patient blues every once in a while, flushing the light into teal. Bard souls, while not quite as flexible as Jacks excelled at adapting to others magic. Your tempo matched up with the boy, pulling the whole symphony together with what you would faintly describe as a sighing harp.

Colin looked at you with warm friendship, an almost brotherly affection in his eyes. Eyes that glowed like amber from the color of his magic. Ming on the other hand was slack jawed, staring at your light with nothing short of awe. Your lifted your hands to block his line of sight, very embarrassed. “D-don’t stare at me like that Ming, jeeze.”

“Ah, sorry.” It took a second before he realized what name you called him by. At least he looked you in the eye this time when he floundered.

Colin laughed. “Okay, so I take it we should call you Ming, then you can call me Cols, and this one Soul.”

“Colin!” Your voice shifted up an octave, you really didn’t mind the nickname so much as how he said it.

Ming cocked an eyebrow, “Soul?”

“It’s some dumb nickname from before I really knew what to call magic.” But Colin beams at your lack of detail. You can see he’s going to keep talking so you punch him lightly on the shoulder. “No music puns mister.”

“Okay, okay.” He leans against your side with a chuckle. Deciding that your minds cannot operate with your soul this exposed and still come up with good witty retorts, you pull yourself back in, the others taking it as their cue to do the same. “So, combat practice.”

“Combat practice.” Ming repeats. The two nod at each other and you all stand up. Better get this show on the road.