The concert

(Sorry to those of you who have seen this elsewhere. I'm mostly just putting this here as a kind of archive.)

Ariana’s first entropic concert was unlike anything she had ever experienced. The sounds they could summon from their devices were nearly other-worldly. There were rhythms that made her heart feel like it might stop beating. Soaring strains that made her breath catch in her throat. And then there were the lights and colors. Black like death. Vivid hues like inescapable choices to be what you are and nothing else. White that seemed to embrace the life of everything in the room - even the cockroaches that were surely lurking somewhere.

While Ariana reveled in the sensory experience, oblivious to any cockroaches, Dorian examined the technical setup. “I think that’s an X-4 they have the keyboard hooked up to there.” Ariana nodded; the statement made as much sense to her as it does to you. Sometimes she was inquisitive enough to ask Dorian about the unfamiliar things he said, but this was not one of those times. “Why does the drummer wear goggles?” he wondered, “They look like they have some entropic components.” She shrugged. “Aren’t you supposed to be the expert? Aren’t you the one who insisted that we come here despite the strain on your constitution? Aren’t you the one who was squealing like a schoolgirl every time we got a glimpse of their caravan?”

Without missing a beat she shot him a mischievous grin. “His name is Jules Brook. And I’m not the one checking out his equipment.”

As delightful as the entropic artistry was, however, what made the concert truly amazing for Ariana was the use of two of the oldest devices known to civilization: the human voice and human language. Kieran Hathaway’s words had a way of describing everything about the world that thrilled and disgusted her, as well as everything she hoped for it. His expressive voice could grind her heart into the dirt with its bitterness, then lift it - dust still falling from it like rain - with a call to stand up, endure, and help create a world worth living in.

The crowd certainly found the world to be worth living in that night. They chanted the refrains to the songs and threw themselves into a strange dance that you could only dance to entropic music. It was rhythmic and mechanical, but at the same time vibrant and passionate. Even Ariana danced, though she could only remain in motion for a few seconds at a time.

“When we play this song, I want you to do one of three things!” Kieran Hathaway announced near the end of the concert. “Sing, dance, or move. But please do something!” Inspired into motion, Ariana danced for all she was worth, and amazingly she lasted a few minutes into the song before it became difficult to lift her arms. Her feet felt like they had been bolted to the floor, and the lights began to feel hypnotic.

As Ariana’s body neared exhaustion, so did her spirit. Suddenly, she hated all of it. She hated the performers for the energy she lacked and the dancers for the strength she lacked. She hated the music for the beauty she felt powerless to create. Finally, the hatred turned to its true object: herself. “If only this world could just absorb me,” she thought, proto-tears in her eyes. “Suck out what little vital force I have left. I’m sure any living thing in this room - even the cockroaches - would make better use of it than I can.” With her mind crashing back to earth, she became aware again of things like the vermin that were surely lurking somewhere. “So take it. Please, someone, take it.” And as if her wish were being granted, she felt herself being swallowed by darkness.

It is important to remember at this point that a performance space is designed to make the performers as visible as possible, but with no interest whatsoever in making the audience visible to the performers. When they can see the audience at all, it often appears as a sea of vague, dehumanized body parts. If you understand this, you can understand how extraordinary it was that Jules Brook reacted to Ariana’s collapse by vaulting off the stage.