Another pigeon was sent out, with a vocal recording of yet another message. Ha! That's gonna show that stupid bastard. What a spat.
The door opened behind him. Someone came up behind him. It was Bill Bruford. One of his most trusted advisers after the Unthawing. Really good person. Very uptight, and he didn't seem to care all too much. Not to mention that he got a degree in Musicology, and that puts you above other mortal men. Despite, of course, the clear fact that the notion of degrees is oppressive and unethical, and that every worker should get their own education, provided for free.
"They found another pod." Bill Bruford said "It's Fripp."
"Do we have to do this?" Jello Biafra said, annoyedly "The man spent the latter part of his life chasing after every little person who ever infringed his copyright, and not doing any music!"
"Err, actually, he did make the construKction of light and The Power to Believe, you know?" Bill responded "And, umm, actually, this is what I was thinking and pondering all along, anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"Look, for four years, do you imagine how many people pirated from King Crimson, even in a post-apocalyptic America?" Bill continued "Especially in post-apocalyptic America. I mean, think about it - why would you blast some century-old tunes when you can listen to 21st Century Schizoid Man?"
"Cut to the chase, Bruford..."
"In essence, he can probably sue half of America for copyrights." Bruford said "This means money. A lot of it. And I know you hate it, but money's important for your goal. I'm sure you know well."
"Blah. Bring in the pod."
Two men, clearly dressed as 80s Heavy Metal Homage Bands, a really strange phenomena popping all across California, brought in the pod. In it, an elderly man in a suit was entrapped. His fingers were still touching the glass ceiling of the pod, writing on it "COPY", but never quite getting to the "RIGHT" part. Bruford hit a button, and from it, did indeed Robert Fripp emerge. He was freezing, and not quite yet in his best senses, so his first words were
"YOU MAY TAKE MY LIFE BUT YOU WON'T TAKE MY C- Oh, what in the heavens are you doing here, Bruford?" Fripp said
"It's complicated..."
