Robin:
Neither of us thought about checking our phones. The Sloth challenge removed our accompaniment to devices, but with nowhere else to turn, we dig them out and on both of ours, we see that whilst Whispersong celebrates four billion subscribers, two of those also follow us.
And they're all telling us to head to a pub in Paddington, by the water.
"Should we?"
"What else would we do?"
So we flee the little studio, making time to hold hands and drink coffee and eat croissants on our way to being judged. Jay is confident that power; domination over others and words to hurt them, is the new sin, and if we just tell them that when we get there everything'll be sweet. We'll win. The money'll be ours and we can never look back. But I'm looking at my goddamn feet right now.
I haven't learned so much about sin and love as to assume we can see the future, just yet anyways.
When we reach the location pin sent by over 1 billion followers, it's nearly impossible to pass the legions of Little Leaves. Until they notice us, then they part in a slow, respectful movement full of grace that leaves my heart wanting.
We shuffle – and are shuffled – through thousands of people like this, some of them Frowners, until we get to a church just opposite Paddington tube, surrounded by tall trees, greenery and the hope of springs to come.
There's music coming from inside the big church, at once familiar and also alien. Like remembering something wrong or loving the wrong person or being confused about what you look like in the mirror.
We walk through large wooden doors to deafening applause and everyone that has ever been relevant to our lives – a modest two hundred or so people, and even with the small combined number I wonder how Whispersong found them all, but there's no time for that as we look further into the church and see up at the podium, the full band.
They're not wearing Whispersong merch, or their headdresses even. One of them calls down that they're our friends, but it's hard to hear over the confusion of a large crowd – why are we here?
A man descends the stairs, away from the band on the podium and towards us. He's tall and with an endless expression, a male beauty and female handsomeness cultivated by more time than any of us have.
"It was you?" Jay asks as the tall man extends his arms for both of us to embrace him at once. Jay rushes in, but I linger back, suspicious.
"You're HG." I accuse him.
"Harland Greaves, yes, Whispersong's major advisor, and huge fan of you both, pleasure to meet you Robin," he says, bowing to me and Jay.
"As it so happens, I'm an ordained Reverend, and we're in a church…" he says, without expression from his face, but pulses of golden feeling from his soul.
"Are your son or father coming HG?" Jay asks,
"They're already here. What do you say, Robin, want to get married?" he asks, as Whispersong approach. Only Badger's eyes share the same understanding, and only his aura is a golden red.
"No," I say.
Harland gasps as if struck, and Jay mimics his movement such is his spell.
"We think humans have fallen so far that an eight deadly sin has been created. Power, or dominion over others, and if you control Whispersong, that means you have influence over half the people on this planet."
I turn to look at Badger.
"If you want Whispersong to mean something, and your band camp to help people, you need to let go of this power." Badger moves forward, intending to stop me, but Fox and Stoat catch his arm whilst Ferret whips out his phone and starts tapping.
"You've no idea what you're meddling with here," Harland Greaves tells me, trying to stifle laughter.
I almost let him get away with it.
"You're shit at this," I tell him. "Jay, let him know that we know."
"We've figured it all out. I think we could have done it without your less-than-subtle help HG. We've been used by the powers above since day one, and seemingly underpromised and over-delivered. All you're meant to do is print some money for us."
"Is that all you think of us?" he asks.
I can't be bothered to respond and simply ask Jay if it is time, receiving an affirmative response.
Badger and the band approach, there's no light behind their eyes anymore and they're just amazing young men again, no longer under the influence of other powers.
"It's time to hear your song," Badger says, looking small and tired, but smiling.
***
Jay:
"Uh, hi everyone," I say, sat at my little fold-out electric drum set.
Robin is to my right, sitting on a box with the acoustic guitar Whispersong gifted her.
"We're going to play two songs for you and then I think we'll run away, be sick, get drunk, and be sick again," I tell the crowd that has gathered in the gardens of Paddington, which must be 5000 strong, but judging by the phone which I can't stop fucking looking at there are a lot more people watching us than that.
"My song is called Love Deficiency, because it's about dying from a chronic lack of love. But that love can come from anywhere. Remember that. Also, the drum solo sounds like my heart when I'm around Robin." I say before letting the headset mic I'm wearing drop down from my mouth to my shoulder and trying my best to mulch the drums for three straight minutes.
***
Robin:
Jay just had the moment, and I'm about to have mine. When everyone's watching, any kind of performance is going to be judged, and even though we've explored how judgement works and who gets to do it… I'm wracked with fear.
I pick up my guitar, and notice for the first time the gold trim around its faceplate – everything reminds me of him.
Jay believes Badger might be evil, I believe he might have been sending a message. Sending a message is important, and I hope to do that now with my song for every Little Leaf and Frowner that's ever felt that they had two lives.
As I begin to pick at the notes, the words come, and even the sounds of busy London lessen as I feel half a world listening to a song that I feel is contrived and sad and ...
"I didn't want to,
Feel
Didn't want to
Try
Didn't want to
Love
Didn't want to
Say goodbye
Before that night,
Didn't want to
Crash
Didn't want to
Drown
Didn't want to
Smile
Couldn't even
Frown
Before that Knight"
I channel the pain of everyone that's ever wanted something but also those that got it and still aren't quite happy. My words tell them life is sad, but the guitar and the atmosphere tells them that the experience of life is never empty.
There's a small applause before a reverent silence, as people approach and disbelief threatens to engulf me as I look at Jay on the fold-out drum set and my vision begins to darken at the periphery.
They approach regardless, as is typical of them, and I beckon Jay over now that the band are playing their own songs to cover this private moment for us.
We hold each other backstage, greeted by living shadows.
"Jay, it would be a real honour if you met Mary and Joseph,"
"I never met mine, but I'm honoured to meet yours,"
My parents hug Jay with a warmth that carries forgiveness from them to me, and a million words go unsaid. I'm afraid to admit how appreciative I am of faith before Jay says thank you, and Whispersong approach.
Stoat is holding hands with Ava from the bar, and we all pretend not to notice.
Fox walks with confidence he could only have found in the mirror, and we both engulf him in an embrace for the ages.
Ferret doesn't seem to mind. He's on his phone and replying to a message that from what we can tell doesn't look like it was entirely professional.
Finally, Badger approaches and there's an alien azure to his eyes now.
"You can be yourself now," I tell him.
"I hope I can remember how," he says. "But our work isn't finished. You'll be married now. If that's still what you want…"
"It's what we want." we both say.
Before I can tell Badger that we'll remain friends, Harland Greaves takes both of our hands and leads us back up to the stage where the band were playing, asking if we're ready to give our vows.
Jay and I nod at each other, willing to sacrifice our moment for half a world of people. We can always renew our vows.
***
Jay:
Robin's stalling, so I have to start or we'll never get through this.
HG looks at me knowingly, but also like we've just met. He's been my boss for so long, but dynamics can shift, and now he has control over my personal life.
I hate it.
"Are you ready to say your vows?" he asks.
"Yes," we both reply.
"Repeat after m-" he begins as we say no.
I start.
"Our vows are for everyone that thought they'd die a virgin."
"Everyone that thought they didn't deserve love," Robin adds.
"Everyone that doesn't know the answers,"
"Everyone that doesn't know,"
"Not knowing might be an answer of its own,"
"After all didn't Socrates say all I know is that I know nothing?" Robin asks, kissing me in front of half the world.
"What we do know," we both start, "is that power ultimately leads to domination and dominion. Eventually, or in this case in under a year. We've seen Whispersong grow from under 1 billion followers to four billion and the only result of that is that everyone else has less control, because the band are controlled." I point an accusatory finger at HG, even though I love-hate him.
"We demand," we say together, four hands clasped around one microphone, "that Whispersong and all affiliates – including us and Harland Greaves – delete everything. We have amassed too much power and influence. We neither wanted nor asked for it. If either Harland or Badger cannot agree to this, Little Leaves, you know what you're dealing with."
"Robin," Badger says, "You know what you're losing, right?"
"I'm not losing anything. I'm gaining perspective," I tell him with a wink, and when he rages in response and swings towards me the others grab him and hold him back.
"Our only victory condition is that you delete it all. Give the money and the prizes to those who need it. Delete everything and forget us." I say, unable to stop myself, before I hear it.
The fans, the thousands of followers here and in the church grounds.
"We'll do it too!" they shout.
"You were real,"
"It was true,"
"Your love is immaculate!"
"But they won't remember," Robin says.
"No, they won't," I promise, as Harland Greaves rises again to the stage with a burst of golden light.
"They won't remember a thing," he says.
The time approaches midnight as the music stops playing and everything is still. You can feel the eight billion thumbs hanging over the delete buttons.
And then they hit it.
And for the second time in a year, the world starts again, again.