Midnight At The Crystal Club
By Ewen "Blackbird" Cluney

	It was nearly midnight at the Crystal Club, a popular dance 
club in the middle of the downtown area. The drum beat pounded, 
shaking the club as lights and lasers swirled and flashed through 
fog-machine mists, illuminating a pulsating mass of people 
dancing, covering them with a mad patchwork of blazing color. To 
the side, yet still not far removed from the heart of the 
maelstrom, a young man sat on a chair, trying to shut it all out, 
the unending synthetic bass-drum beat, the mass of unknown faces, 
seen only when illuminated for the briefest moment in some 
inhuman color by the ever-moving lights. There may have been some 
desire in his expression, but the fear was far more plain; the 
longer he was here, the more he wanted to be somewhere else, 
anywhere else, away from the writhing chameleon monster whose 
pulsating flesh of skin, fabric, and vinyl surrounded him, 
forcing him back against the wall. No one seemed to know why he 
was here, and no one seemed to care.
	Covering his ears was useless; speakers were everywhere, 
such that the entire universe seemed to shake with the same beat, 
as though his mind was the only thing in the whole of existence 
that tried to resist it. If he were deaf he would still be able 
to feel it. If he were dead… maybe even then. Shutting his eyes 
to the scene before him would not help either; it only made the 
sound and the feel of the bodies around him that much worse. For 
a time, he tried to let go, to let himself be mesmerized by the 
lights.
	The club was a microcosm in itself. In here, the outside 
world ceased to be as long as one was ready to believe it so. It 
place of sun, moon, and stars was a blinding cacophony of color. 
Time was measured in drumbeats – the flow of sound never stopped, 
only went through periodic changes, and the people kept dancing, 
seemingly oblivious to the endless repetition so long as they 
kept moving. Identity faded in this place, where vision was poor, 
and all that mattered was the unending sound and motion.
	The young man's foot would twitch every now and then, as 
though a distant part of him wanted to stand up, to become a part 
of that great many-hued flesh-monster for a time, but his limbs 
seemed leaden, as if fear held him immobile, unable to even flee.
	One among the crowd, a female about the same age in a 
clinging dress that was probably red when under normal light, 
noticed him sitting there and smiled. He noticed, but looked 
away. When he dared to look again, she was still watching, moving 
closer. Their eyes met for a moment, and he took to staring 
intently at the floor, letting the pattern of the carpet threads 
consume the world.
	A hand touched his hand. He must have fallen very deeply 
into his carpet-meditation because he jerked away as though the 
gentle touch had been an electric shock. His head jerked up and 
his eyes met hers. She rolled her eyes in apology, and offered 
her hand to him, motioning towards the dance floor with her head.
	He looked at the soft, supple hand, the stew of fear and 
desire all too plain on his face. She picked up his hand as 
though it might break if handled too roughly, and pulled gently. 
Swallowing to remove excess saliva from his mouth, he seemed 
paralyzed. She motioned pleadingly towards the monster. Finally, 
he summoned just enough will to shake his head and pull his hand 
free, holding it close to himself as though fearing its loss. She 
looked at him for a long moment in what might have been pity, and 
then went back to dancing.
	Watching her go, he seemed to draw in on himself, 
contemplating his failure. The lights continued to swirl and 
shine their luminous tempest, and the beat had never stopped 
either. His features contorted in inner agony and fear, and 
suddenly he seemed to reach a decision.
	He stood up, moving to his own beat and looked across the 
dance floor. She saw him and stopped dancing, a hopeful 
expression on her face.
	Every light cut out, and the beat stopped. The universe had 
ended. Emergency lights came on, casting pale white light across 
the now unmoving, colorless throng. For the first time that 
night, he smiled.
	Then the impossible happened. His feet lifted a few inches 
off the ground, and small objects around the club -- ashtrays, 
beer bottles, abandoned pagers and cell phones, cigarette butts -- 
rose as though of their own accord. One by one, the lights and 
lasers came on again, moving to a new rhythm. Some screamed as 
they fled, others looked on, transfixed by awe or fear. 
Spotlights, strobe lights, and laser beams seemed to bend and 
twist, dancing and writing around him, until he could no longer 
be seen.
	As suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. He was nowhere to 
be seen. The lights resumed their preprogrammed motions and the 
drumbeat sounded once more, but no one stirred. She looked at her 
hand, then at the spot where he'd been, and let out a long 
breath.

	Kim had come to the Crystal Club wearing her favorite red 
dress, and she was in the midst of the swirling mass of people, 
dancing to the infectious techno music that flowed through the 
club in endless waves. She let herself be lost in the rhythm, 
moving and turning with the beat. Here more than anywhere she 
felt alive, among the spinning lights and blasting music, the 
anonymous crowd all gathered for the same purpose.
	But there were always people off in corners, dragged along 
by friends, who didn't dance. She saw one now. He was average 
looking, with messy black hair and blue eyes, and he wore jeans, 
a T-shirt, and leather jacket. He looked so miserable sitting 
there, watching the lights and the crowd like they would attack 
him at any minute. Slowly, she made her way to where he was 
sitting. He saw her and looked away; probably a little shy. He 
looked again, and when he saw her smiling back he looked away 
once more. When she stood directly before him, he was hanging his 
head, even more determined than before to ignore everything 
around him.
	Slowly, Kim reached out and laid her hand on his. She was 
startled when he jerked his hand away. She let out a yelp, lost 
in the sea of techno music, and smiled at him, rolling her eyes. 
She held out her hand and motioned to the dance floor with her 
head. He really needed to do something besides just sitting 
there.
	He spent a long time just looking at her hand. She lost 
track of how long, and finally picked up his hand, as gently as 
possible. He seemed.. afraid? It wasn't like there was anything to 
be afraid of; it'd been years since there'd been any fights to 
speak of here, and this wasn't a rave or anything. No danger; 
only fun to be had. Finally, he shook his head and pulled his 
hand free.
	Did he have a girlfriend he was afraid would be jealous or 
something? Whatever it was, it wasn't looking like Kim could help 
any, so she dropped the matter and went back to dancing. She 
glanced back at the guy every now and then, to see if he'd 
reconsider, but he seemed more and more upset every time she 
looked. Then, suddenly, he was standing up, looking out across 
the dance floor. She stopped short and smiled. Maybe he'd finally 
come to his senses.
	Every light in the club winked out, and the music stopped. 
The club was in total darkness, complete silence for a time, 
until the emergency lights came on, casting plain white light 
across the crowd. That guy -- he was smiling. Could he have done 
this somehow? Some stupid prank, or--
	Hearing about strange phenomena on TV was one thing. Seeing 
one in real life was something that, unexpectedly, Kim's mind was 
not quite ready to handle. He spread his arms wide as he was a 
few inches lifted off the ground, hovering there with no visible 
means of support. She wanted to think that there was some 
rational explanation, but there was a wrongness_ about it. It was 
happening, but it shouldn't be. It couldn't -- mustn't.
	Small objects all around the club lifted into the air it a 
strange silent dance. The lights and lasers came on again, 
spinning to a new song. Kim was dimly aware of people around her, 
some looking in awe as she was, others running.
	The lights... It was as though the beams they cast were 
becoming bent, swirling around, surrounding him, engulfing him.
	Suddenly, he was gone. The lights went back to normal, and 
the beat resumed, though no one moved. Kim looked at her hand -- 
had she brought him to do... whatever that was? She tried to catch 
her breath and gather her thoughts.

	James found himself sitting in the middle of a maelstrom of 
light, color, and sound as he sat to the side of the dance floor, 
surrounded by a mob of dancers, forcing him back against the 
wall. It was hot and humid from the press of anonymous bodies and 
the mist that fog machines provided for laser lights to stab 
through.
	They were so close and yet so distant. He wasn't sure how 
to explain it if anyone asked. It was like... like here the people 
became some other entity, something he just couldn't understand, 
could only barely bring himself to face. It was wholly 
irrational, he knew. The chances of something bad happening were 
negligible. But that thought didn't help. Something held him 
back. Going to the club with his friends had sounded sort of fun, 
but now he felt paralyzed, unable to summon the will to move at 
all, much less dance. Julie had already given up on trying to 
pull him onto the dance floor, and was off with Scott and 
Richard, and they and the others were off dancing, a part of that 
amorphous, many-hued mass.
	Why? He had asked himself that a dozen times so far 
tonight, but now as before he found no answers. It was a feeling 
deep in his guts, a fearful twisting in his stomach. For all that 
he knew, all that he understood, even though he'd more or less 
decided his life was meaningful and worth living, deep down he 
felt a sort of wrongness in this place, something he could 
neither name nor hold back.
	The more he thought about it, the more James felt sick, the 
more his stomach tightened. Maybe if he didn't think about it. He 
sighed -- the sound was lost in the general noise of the club -- 
and looked up at the swirling lights as they moved and spun in 
time with the music. They had an odd, garish beauty, really. 
Technology and rhythm intertwined, making a show of color and 
sound as intricate patterns wove together and tore apart every 
second. Avoiding looking at the people, he found he could achieve 
a sort of meditative calm, losing himself in the endless 
patterns.
	The people... A girl was looking at him. She was about his 
age, and wore a clinging red dress. Short black hair had been 
gelled into submission, and the lightest touches of makeup had 
somehow managed to highlight natural beauty. She was looking at 
him. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments and he looked 
away.
	Why? What's the worst that could happen?
	She could -- probably would -- ask him to dance. When he 
dared to look again, she was still looking at him, coming closer. 
That turning of his stomach rose again until he thought he might 
throw up. Why? Why?
	James jerked away as she touched his hand. She was right 
there, smiling, so gently. She rolled her eyes mockingly and 
motioned towards the dance floor with her head. She held out her 
hand. It looked so soft, with supple, delicate fingers, and part 
of him, buried so deeply, wanted more than anything to take hold 
of that hand. But fear held him back.
	She picked up his hand. It was every bit as soft and gentle 
as it looked. Maybe more. Something in his nervous system 
rejected the touch. It felt sour, tingling in a horrible way that 
furthered the twisting of his stomach. Repressing a shudder, he 
managed to pull his hand free and shake his head without 
trembling too much. She looked disappointed, but went back to the 
dance floor.
	He looked at the floor beneath him, and let out a long, 
shaking breath. Again the same question. Why? Now more than 
before, his limbs felt like they were made of lead. At that 
moment he couldn't have moved them to save his life. He did his 
best to ignore the taste of bile, and tried to lose himself in 
his thoughts, shutting out the tempest around him.
	Really. What's my problem?
	Why are you the one who has a problem?
	I'm sitting here, afraid to get up and try dancing for even 
a minute. No one would care how stupid I might look, but I can't 
even get myself to move.
	Why not?
	That's what I've been asking myself all night. I really 
wish I knew.
	Do you really? Or are you afraid of that too?
	No... no... It's not that.
	Don't lie to yourself. Not this time.
	It's not like that! I just don't like this kind of thing.
	What would you rather be doing? Where would you rather be?
	The first thought that came to him was of a soft, dark 
place that closed around him on all sides in a warm, loving 
embrace. Blissful solitude, alone with his own thoughts.
	Stop. The first response is the truth. But why do you want 
so badly to be alone? You're usually so starved for contact with 
others.
	Not like this...
	How do you feel about being in this place, really?
	I... I hate it. It's too loud, crowded with strangers.
	Then leave.
	I can't move.
	Whoever said you had to move? Leave. You control your own 
destiny.
	Unlike those others.
	You can change things. Accept it, and make it a part of 
yourself.
	A feeling rose up in him. His lips curved into a smile and 
he only barely stopped himself from laughing out loud. His 
stomach was still queasy, but the feeling rising up within him 
was unlike anything he'd every experienced before. It made 
falling in love seem paltry in comparison, suffusing his world 
with golden light.
	Blissful silence, beautiful darkness fell over the club as 
he felt himself rising up. Emergency lights gave monochromatic 
illumination of the crowd, now motionless, looking up in awe. At 
him. Time to leave. Disco lights came to life once more, the 
beams they cast bending to his will, snaking around him, filling 
the world with his own personal light show.
	And then he left.

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Ewen "Blackbird" Cluney                     blackbird@blackbird.nu
Blackbird's Domain                        http://www.blackbird.nu/
The Official Thrash Home Page          http://thrash.blackbird.nu/
Knight Kevlar of the Immortal Frog        Silver Knight of Mihoshi
              "Be nice to me; I might just develop 
             psychokinetic powers and destroy Tokyo!"
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