6. MEMBERS ONLINE

THE LORDS OF Acid were aware of so much now, it was impossible to convey unless you stood in their presence. Even then, you might find yourself too overwhelmed to appreciate their level of comprehension, a fact they were also aware of. (Awareness was actually the first keyword.)

They had tapped into something special even before the Acid Bath, that much their fans would testify to, none more than Ven. He was indeed the prime example of how deeply moved their followers could be by their music. (Movement was the second keyword.) Even casual exposure to their music often brought new listeners to the fold. It was infectious and potent like a drug.

Then in a collision of music and starlight, The Lords of Acid were gone. But they left their music behind.

OVERTURE

MILES ABOVE THE Earth, they couldn’t hear the music. And even if they could, it wouldn’t have mattered.

They had lived amongst the people for decades, closely observing and building an archive of knowledge which they would use to follow through on their plan eventually. They had been careful, making sure to record everything of note about the human species, the one that ran loud and unchecked across the planet, brash and bold and uninhibited. They placed their observers at every level of social strata, in ghettos and in palaces, in hovels and penthouses, in every far-flung region of the world where the species had set foot. And some where they hadn’t.

They observed. But there were some things they still didn’t understand.

The humans were topically similar enough to their race to make assimilation rather easy. And while it was theoretically possible that their higher brain functions might one day allow them to evolve to the point where they could be considered equal to their own, this was scores of thousands of years away. For now the Terrans were a far too indulgent race to take seriously, as a threat or a hindrance to their goals.

Humans concerned themselves with matters of love (an outdated abstraction, long since forgotten) and sex (a barbaric interaction, long since replaced) and money (an unnecessary distraction, long since discarded) and a host of other obsessions that had no place in the world to come. Yet all of these were things that could be understood. There was a frame of reference for them all.

Unlike the music.

For the longest time, a fundamental understanding of the humans’ appreciation for music escaped them. The greatest intellects of their race studied it for years, and still could find no answer. There was no biological reason for it to exist, nothing which could be seen to benefit directly or indirectly from it. Food existed to sustain the body, which derived much-needed nutrients and chemicals from it. Clothing and shelter shielded the physical self from harmful effects of the environment. Even the indulgences of love and sex and money could be explained. Music simply...was.

And it flourished, in every culture, in every day and age. Its boundaries were mutable, and fluid. The intellects studied it from every angle, dissecting its mathematical properties and theological ramifications, but in the end deciding it really didn’t matter. It simply was; a by-product of the humans’ wasteful natures and something they might one day outgrow, although evidence didn’t seem to suggest it.

It then fell beneath their notice, and was forgotten.

Now a beam of hyper-amplified starlight burned through the atmosphere toward the skin of the planet, searing through ozone and oxygen on a direct path toward the city, unopposed and unstoppable...





MILES BELOW, IN the city, they couldn’t see the starships. But it probably wouldn’t have mattered if they could.

On this night, the city had an unusual, unmistakable pulse. Crowds of evening revelers had descended on the East Side Amphitheatre in anticipation of a most spectacular night of entertainment. For some it was even more than that; it was a rare opportunity to feed an addiction to a specific drug, one that could bubble and boil through the bloodstream for hours on end, more feverish than a virus.

Tonight the drug wouldn’t be downloaded. It wouldn’t be served up cold on sterile discs to be routed through woefully inadequate sound-systems. It wouldn’t be piped through headsets like an aural placebo. Instead, it was being pumped directly into the bloodstreams of the addicts

The music swelled louder and the audience responded as expected. Onstage, the wiry man with the shocking mane of white hair smiled and whipped his disciples into even further states of frenzy. From rafter to dance-floor, there wasn’t a trace of inhibition to be found anywhere.

The Lords of Acid were holding court. And their subjects couldn’t have been happier.

Exhibitionist tendencies mingled freely with free souls, each having their own place. The common denominator here was they were all, for lack of a better word, different. They too lived amongst the other people of the Earth for years...but it was only at these moments, when they were all conjoined in this specific revelry, that they could allow themselves to stand revealed for what they were.

Beautiful creatures dancing with lust and pride and hope and rhythm. Always with rhythm. Strobes flashed and hips swayed and feet glided and hearts pounded and ears overflowed with hypnotic rhythms that overlapped one another.

Now the music was airborne, rising on winds and currents toward the gates of the heavens, arcing through moonlight and clouds on a path to outer space, irresistible and unavoidable...