Sonic Reactor

Making our way from the car to the club seemed as though it happened in slow motion, like a scene out of some movie, breakbeats exploding in the background like fireworks made of sound. I could see us from the camera's point of view; circling around our confident strutting. We owned that place.

There was no line, not yet, and certainly not for us. They took our tickets, and swung the doors wide, opening up a new realm of sensation; light, sound colour, all flowing into one.

The beauty, the perfection of the human body, is always something I have felt to be self-evident. I have encountered few who share my belief, but if any were in doubt that night, they certainly didn't show it. There were no awkward movements, no stumbling about. Every motion was so fluid, so full of lucidity and purpose. The room was dark, but at the same time it glowed with the sheer power of the human machine. Liquid fire washed over us; it flowed through our veins.

At the back of the room, up on the stage, was the DJ. He was as lost in the moment as we were. For him, the crowd was there, but at the same time, it wasn't. Despite his deep state of concentration, every mix, every breakbeat and every scratch came as though it was of it's own accord, flowing freely from the turntables into the night.

We started to dance.

After a while, the people in our immediate area turned their eyes on us. Well, not all of us, to be fair, just the ladies. Quite some time had passed, and the thundering intensity of the music hadn't slowed one bit, and the girls were glowing, soaked in the music of their own bodies. They had never before looked so beautiful, so clean, or so pure. They were lost souls from heaven, walking among us on this base earth to show us what we need, what we must become. Truth be told, the three of us men had a primitive power all our own, a rumbling quake of blood and sweat and glory. But we were nothing compared to the girls, with their radiant skin, their eyes that cut to the soul.

Oh how we wished that night would never have ended. We had created our own utopia, our own heat to cut through the chilled haze of everyday life. It was ours, we had made it, and we had to hold on to it.

That night had to end, but it does not have to die. It lives on in our dreams, in our eyes, and in our spirits. We had tasted perfection, we had been given our chance to touch the face of eternity, and to our credit, we took it; we were free.