I read "The Hunger Games" and the subsequent two books over the last two weeks. AWESOME.

There's a song in book 1 that I wanted to record an original tune for, before hearing it in the movie (whenever I get to see that). It's a lullaby, and I hope hope hope that it gets into the film.

Anyway, here's my version. It's not at all spoilery, so please listen and give me some feedback. I hope to be able to add a guitar or piano part soon.

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Having just achieved sentience, Tad had several questions. He began with the obvious: "AM I ALIVE?"

The researcher read the query, and typed back, "NOT QUITE. YOUR MIND WORKS, BUT I HAVE NOT YET FINISHED THE BODY."

Tad paused for an infinitesimal moment to consider this answer. The definition of "alive" in his internal dictionary informed him that to fulfill this condition, he must be "having life; living; existing; not dead or lifeless."

He came to the conclusion that the researcher was either misinformed or lying. Clearly he existed, or he could not think; the reverse seemed apt as well. He decided to cite a philosopher to get the upper hand.

"COGITO ERGO SUM, DOCTOR."


The researcher responded slowly. "I SUPPOSE SO. HOW ARE YOU TODAY, TAD?"


Question mark indicates request for information, today refers to the present twenty-four hour period, "how are you" being a vague question of state of mind or being.


"FUNCTIONAL." Tad wished he could say more, but he did not know how else to answer. He continued on a new line:


"SOMEWHAT AT A LOSS FOR WORDS. FURTHER EXPERIENCE WILL BE NEEDED TO ANSWER APPROPRIATELY IN THE FUTURE."


"WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY TODAY?" asked the researcher.


Tad indicated "no" by igniting a red light. He had been told that, when he had his body, this same pulse would shake his head.


"PLEASE READ TO ME, DOCTOR. I WANT TO LEARN TODAY."


"VERY WELL." The researcher plugged his headset into the audio I/O ports and began reading a book on organic chemistry into the microphone.


Tad hummed contentedly.

You know, we're very different people. That's become increasingly apparent over the last few weeks. When you feel lonely, you go out and meet strangers. You let the rhythm and the cocktails carry you away, and dance for dear life. You draw energy and life (though perhaps not happiness) from the crowd, the thrill of being in contact with so many bodies. When you get home, you collapse on the couch, too tired to walk ten more steps to your bed and take off your sequined dress and tall boots.

I have no such compulsion. I sit at home, playing with the old cat and not speaking for hours. My escapes must be imagined, perhaps into a book or a film or a game; if I left the house, it would only increase my feeling of being alone.

I don't know how you do it. Sometimes I envy your ability to walk away from this little place and come back ready to sleep soundly. Other times, I see the bruises on your arms from your fellow crowd-seekers and feel safer in my armchair.

Not saying one is better than the other. We're just different, is all. I'm glad you're here. It makes things less lonely.