HANG IN THERE

At the Jemdet Wrecking Yard in Venera, the Venusian duo of Animal Monday had cleared their weekend to collect circuitry, copper, and any other bits they could use to repair their synthesizers. Venerable outcasts among their peers, a recent live show had ended early when stark-raving-mad drunkards smashed their instruments and took off into the night. As they were rummaging, an acid rainstorm, common in the southern hemisphere, forced them into the comfort of a vintage space cruiser. Neon lighting cackled across the sky and they soon realized they were not alone. The vehicle, as it turned out, once belonged to the local police; the deactivated android in the backseat too had been the property of the municipality. Its strange, toothy smile frightened the duo at first (a neighbor reported a bevy of screams for just over fifteen minutes) but after the initial shock, and the discovery of additional arm and leg attachments in the trunk, Animal Monday exchanged the electrified baton for a drum stick and put the bot to work. Dubbed B0BB1, the former copper no longer kept the peace, but the beat, drumming perfectly in sync to the buzzing synthesizers of his new mates. After a bit of tweaking (and a few malicious reversions to its old ways) the new trio quickly launched themselves into the studio and on tour, where a fateful promoter would mispronounce their band name, birthing the hit-makers we know today as Anima Mundi. As fate would have it, the ruffians who had smashed their instruments just months before were at that very show. In their infinite wisdom, they had included a special switch on the back of their automated drummer for just such an occasion.