Boukay sat in a corner of the Tavern, surrounded by the wildness and the noise. His mind was elsewhere, among the hills of Karolinnie, the fine greenblue planet of Arcturus. He opened his fieldbook:

2583:13:2 - I was told it was poor in Karolinnie, but was unprepared for the shacks and the vast slag heaps where the dilithium mines have ravaged the mountainsides. This is certainly the back end of the glorious Federation. It is terribly hot: already the stationmaster has complained that none of the crops will make it this year. I wait for the schoolteacher. While I wait I ask the stationmaster if he is from around these parts. He laughs his high Arcturan howl -- it turns out that he is from Calaman, which I should have known. To keep my hand in, I ask him if he knows any of the ancient Calaman borealis wave tunes, but he knows nothing but the usual spacepap. Finally, the schoolteacher appears, daubing her brow. She helps me with the bulky recording equipment, and we stow it in her old -- what was the Earth word? -- jalopy. She is surprisingly sizeable for someone who wrote such a spindly hand in her letter to the Guild: 'I have heard that there is an interest in retrieving some of the old Earth songs. While only Terran myself, I recently heard some old songs chanted in the playground of our one-room schoolhouse, here on Karolinnie. I believe these mountain folk are 6th or 7th Earthling. How they got here is anyone's guess. I believe these songs are quite beautiful, and would be sorry to see them disappear. yours sincerely, Matilda Grace."
We move out through the hot green hills along the blue dirt roads. 2583:13:3. I have had my first encounter with this remnant, and heard some of the old songs. Some slightly interesting variants, but nothing really new. The funniest moment was when we came to a mountain cabin, and apart from nearly losing the jalopy on a none too steady log bridge, we were the cause of a fight over an Earth song between an elderly farmer, and his wife. There were four of them in that tiny cabin, overlooking their patch of ground: the farmer, his even more ancient looking wife, who would not take no for an answer when we said that we would not stay for lunch, and a young, darklooking grandson (?), with a small baby. Where the wife of the grandson was, no one said.

Anyway, after a long chat back and forth about this and that (I must always remember to keep it slow), I brought up the subject of old Earth songs. Naturally enough they said they did not know any, but after a little wheedling, the old man said, "Weell, I guess there is one I can recollect." And he went into the familiar song:

"From Walt Disney you say you are leaving,
Do not hasten to bid us adieu,
Just remember that Walt will go with you,
As the one man who loves you so true."

There was a moment of silence, and then his wife quietly said, "You know, there was another version, I don't rightly recollect it all, my mother's I guess." And she suddenly sings:

"From this valley they say you are leaving,
Do not hasten to bid me adieu,
Just remember the Blue River Valley,
And the sweetheart who loved you so true."

She then starts crying for some reason. An eldery woman crying is a hard thing to see. Her husband just looks at her and laughs."Fool woman, that ain't no Earth song." And they start in to fighting.

He is obviously right. It can't be an Earth song without Disney appearing in it. I wonder where she got it? A Pleiades variant? We hurriedly bid them goodbye (Adieu perhaps, hahaha), still bickering, and head off again. As we turn the corner, I see the young dark man running off into the woods, without the baby.

2583:13:5. Matilda and I return from a trip deeper into the hills, which turned out to be futile. No one there was even 7th generation Earthling. Satellite dishes have arrived. Just before we take the crossroad to the schoolhouse I have this funny feeling."Matilda, would you mind us just taking a few minutes back up the Hollow road again. I want to talk to the "Red Rivers" again!" That had become our little joke.
The jalopy makes it up to the bridge, but can go no further. The bridge has, strangely, been destroyed. A flash flood? No, it is all dry as a bone. It is only a creek, so we jump over and walk towards the cabin.

The cabin is a charred ruin, and the space around the cabin burnt blue grass. We come closer, and then we see the bodies. And then we run."

Boukay closes his Fieldbook. The noise of the Tavern returns. He sighs. He is still not at the heart of the mystery. But he is confident that it will come. It is somewhere in the songs. He thinks: "I wonder where the Blue Valley is? Maybe that is the place to look. Maybe I will find it in the Crab Nebula."