The city was beautiful at night. Dan's neighborhood was sat on the side of a hill overlooking downtown, and the dazzling cityscape cast a broad curtain of illumination across the horizon. The stars were visible where the city light faded, their twinkling forms granting sight where there would otherwise be darkness. And high above it all, the moon lood large in the sky, bathing the world in soft light. No one slept on a night like this.
Dan took rrill with him into the heart of the lively city. They made for the Murphy Strip, several city blocks that made up a popular bar crawl for college students and people looking for excitent. It didn't exist in Dan's parallel, so far as he knew, and as he walked into the first of many bars, he understood why.
Austin was a city of music, and that was no different here. But there was a profound difference between music played by a baseline human, and music made by an upgraded person. Not to put too fine a point on it, but there was a reason why they were called upgrades.
Dan had never been a fan of live performances. That energy, the beat, the roar of the crowd, the bunched up bodies and excitent that perated every movent, he'd never really felt it before.
He felt it now. It was as if a bomb made of concentrated joy had been detonated in his brain. The mont he stepped foot into the building he was bouncing to the beat. His heart pounded in tune with the music. The lyrics, incomprehensible yet beautiful, bead themselves directly into his ears. He briefly wondered if he had accidentally taken acid, before that thought was driven away by an overriding sense of peace. He fell into the flow, swaying on the dance floor with dozens of others. Every burden, every worry, every negative feeling was driven away. Nothing mattered except the music. It was the kind of serenity that he'd always assud was unachievable.
Even rrill reacted to the song, crawling out of his pocket and resting on his shoulder. The little mouse stared, entranced, at the stage, barely shifting herself with Dan's movents, just enough to stay balanced.
The crowd was the sa as Dan. Not raucous, but united in joy. Their movents were uncoordinated, sloppy and amateur, but they all held that sa splash of emotions. That sa brilliant serenity. It was intoxicating, and the world seed to revolve around the music. A single mont and an eternity.
The feeling ended with the song, slowly dipping down and down until it had faded away completely. Dan applauded louder than any other, as the woman who led the band bowed and smiled. She was a thin slip of a woman, with bleached hair in a pixie cut. He made sure to get the band na, Selena and the Nightingales, and promised himself that he would bring Abby the next ti they were playing. It was only after they began to leave the stage, that his mind began to clear.
"How does she do that?" he asked out loud, a general question to the crowd around him. He kept his eyes on the exiting form of the band, still enthralled by what he'd just experienced. Clarification wasn't needed. Nobody who had experienced what he had would ever need it clarified.
"She's got an empathic projection upgrade," a woman answered from sowhere to his left.
Sothing in her explanation twigged a reaction in him. He turned to face her, briefly noting her wider than normal eyes, and slitted, reflective pupils. "Projection? That's how she was feeling?"
The woman smiled, revealing a set of pronounced canines. "That's what it feels like to love what you do."
"Huh." He turned back to the front, watching the lead singer curiously as she packed away her guitar. He'd never felt anything like that before. About anything. She was at peace. But not the relieved peace Dan felt from finally reaching safety after risking his life. Not the bubbling, fuzzy peace that ca from laying beside the one he loved. Not the cold, focused peace that seized him in combat. Not even the zen-like peace that he found in the Gap.
She felt the peace of purpose. Of knowing that this was exactly what she existed to do. That this was the reason why she was here. Not just in the room, or on stage, but at all. She had found her answer to the question of 'why?' It was beautiful.
Dan had never been more jealous of anything in his entire life.
That was the feeling he had been searching for, almost his entire life. The one he'd all but given up on finding. Was it cruelty or kindness that he'd been reminded of it, here in this random bar? He couldn't decide, but he was thankful all the sa. To feel it, briefly, if nothing else.
But he'd lost his taste for the bar scene.
His next stop was Zilker Nature Preserve. He had been there on his own parallel, attending an annual music festival. Here, the festival appeared to not exist, and Zilker's wide grounds were used as more of a vast outdoor stage; a general gathering point for impromptu performances of every kind.
Dan could hear the tell tale signs of a party as he trekked through grassy grounds. Lights and music and laughter echoed through the night. He ca across a group of dozens, dancing on a massive carpet that had been laid across the grass. A slightly elevated stage had been raised near the front of the crowd, upon which a set an array of speakers and a DJ. Strobe lights were strung up along a makeshift awning, beaming down on the dance floor. There were no plugs out here, but Dan could see bare copper wires wrapped around the disk jockey's wrist. The beat was pleasant enough, though seed painfully lacking compared to what Dan had just experienced.
Off to the side, a large number of chairs and coolers had been set up, to accommodate the more languid guests. The crowd was smaller there, but no less friendly. They chatted among each other with casual ease, friends and strangers alike. There were people of all ages, shapes, and sizes. A huge collection of mods were on display, most of which were frivolous enough to have had Marcus frothing in anger. Animals ears and tails, scales, shining eyes and skin and teeth. Elaborate glowing tattoos that snaked across bare skin and wriggled with lifelike movents.
Dan joined them with little hesitation, and was welcod with jovial enthusiasm. The night seed to blur together as he mingled with individuals more unique than anyone could have dread of being on his old world. Dan had what might have been the most friendly conversation of his life with a seven foot tall lizard man from California. The guy's na was Phil, and he taught people how to surf. He had apparently co to Austin completely on a whim, having followed his traditional vacation-location-choosing-thod of throwing a dart at a map of the country.
"It's not just about going with the flow, dude," he rambled in his heavy surfer-dude accent. The scaly fellow had been several beers in before Dan had arrived, and had chugged five more in his presence. "It's about seeing the flow, y'know? Predictin' it, and riiiiiding it out!"
Dan nodded drunkenly along with the tiless wisdom. "Can't just drift along in life. Gotta have a direction."
"Right on, bro. Check it out. It's about knowing where you are, and where you wanna go." Phil's slightly protruding face bobbed up and down pleasantly. A fork tongue flicked out of his lips and into his beer can. How it didn't get cut, Dan couldn't possibly guess.
"Just look at ," he continued, gesturing to himself. "I didn't know I was coming here." He chuckled to himself. "But you know I was ready for it, dude. I'm one with the ocean. When those waves co, I'll be there." He peered down at Dan, then blinked blearily. "Dude! You've got a mouse on your shoulder!"
Dan woozily glanced at rrill. "Yeah," he giggled. "That's rrill. She's my mouse."
"Oh, hey there little senorita," Phil greeted, raising his beer can in greeting, and Dan dissolved into laughter.
Most of the night seed to pass in a blur. Not two hours earlier, the city had been under threat. Not two hours earlier, these people's lives could have been destroyed on the whim of a madman. This was how they dealt with tragedy. This was how they lived with uncertainty. Celebration. A life lived in the mont.
Later, Dan would only rember flashes of mory, most of which made no sense.
He rembered a full sized rrill dancing the tango with Phil. He rembered people cheering, as a man made of granite slabs break-danced fast enough to burn a circle into the grass. He rembered a pair of teenagers shotgunning beer cans as their friends chanted encouragent. He rembered the lights cascading across the stage, twisting into geotric shapes and rainbow colors. He rembered as they spiraled out, out and up, filling the surroundings, turning his world into a brilliant, spinning kaleidoscope.
And most of all, he rembered that feeling, that echo of emotion, of satisfaction and purpose. He clung to it, held it close, and stored it away in his mind. Keeping it fresh and safe.
His goal, his direction.
To find that feeling again.
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