The other students file out of chapel, leaving me alone. I sigh, and get up from my seat in the back. Stepping out of the tech booth, I stroll towards the stage. Once there, I pick up various cords, wrapping them, over-under, over-under. I collapse the worship leader’s mic stand, and hoist it up over my shoulder, carrying it back to the sound booth. I put the cords on their pegs, and the mic stand in its cabinet. I turn around, and Command-Shift-Q the ProPresenter computer. I hit Return, and then shut it down. I go under the counter to access the breaker, and I turn the speakers off. Rising back up, I hit the power switch on the soundboard, and it goes dark.

I turn to leave, but as I do, something catches my eye. A pair of black, wireless headphones, just lying on the ground. Those weren’t there before...

It takes two steps to get to them. I pick them up, turn them over in my hands. I can hear a faint music coming from them, so I slip them over my head, listening intently.

A smile draws across my face. Slowly so, it beams a malevolent grin. My eyes gain a shifty glint.

I turn around, and turn the sound board back on, followed by the speakers. I turn the lighting system on, and the few colored lights we have flash as they recieve power. I turn on the song. I can hear it start to play from the speakers. Yes!

I tweak the low end, bringing it to bear heavily. The beat thumps through the airspace. I work the mouse on the lighting computer, spinning lights, changing colors and intensities quickly. I can see some students filing past, outside in the hallway. One stops, and looks at me. I look up, and motion for them to come in.

They open the door, and half the students with them follow them in. The music starts to build up. I blackout our normal incandescent lighting, opting instead for colored LEDs. As the music peaks, the chorus starting, I pulse the lights to the beat. The students start to dance. Spinning the lights on their bases, I give the otherwise pious chapel a worldly spin as the students jump to the music. It flows through the room, each body pulsing in a complicated waltz of energy. The speakers bulge with each beat, the bass shuffling hair and reverberating in hearts.

Then, suddenly, it is over, too soon. The song calms down, and the lights fade. Our normal lighting retakes its place, and the students look around. One by one, they file back out into the hallway. I sigh wistfully.

Looking to the ground beside the booth, I once again see a pair of black, wireless headphones, identical to the ones still situated on my head. I chuckle.

Picking them up, I head out the chapel doors and into the gym. The chairs are set up, presumably for the assembly held just this morning. I can see a student, sitting alone in the back, hunched over a book of some sort. I maneuver around the edge of the auditorium until I’m right behind her. I peek over her shoulder. She’s interchangeably scribbling in a drawing book or on a nearby notepad. I stretch the hadphones slightly, allowing them to pass over her head without disturbing her neon blue hair.

Without warning, I let go of the headphones, letting them smack into place over her ears. She jumps, and then spins around, standing up to face me. Her books and pencils fall to the ground with a clatter. Her mouth opens wide, in an O, but then her eyes widen as well, her finger paused in the air.

Then, slowly, her suprise morphs into complacency. She stands stock still, just absorbing the music. A smirk works its way into her lips, her eyes gleaming with an electric spark. She looks me in the eye, and we nod.

I lead her back to the sound booth in the gym, and unlock the components. I turn the sound sytem on, then the lighting system. I show her, first how the sound board works, then how the lighting system works. She nods, her face alive with new light.

We move the chairs away. No need for these. The preparations are made. Yes, we want the subs on full blast. Yes, we can connect more lights. Once it’s done, we quickly raid the PA system, calling everyone down to the auditorium for an announcement. Students and teachers alike herd into the gym, milling around, chattering.

Then the lights black out.

They stand, hushed. The doors shut behind them, they look at the stage, where one, then two, then more lights flash on. Music fades in, the notes corresponding with the lights’ color, position, and intensity. The car-sized subwoofers shake the room as the song grows and grows. The lights become more and more erratic as it nears its climax.

Then, it hits.

Each beat has the room in the air, hair flying, hands lifted, bodies colliding in a dance to die for. The lights shed color on different sections, creating a dizzying tango of confusion. We don’t care, however, as the music ripples through our veins and thumps in our bones, we simply let loose, fading into the music as it takes us over. Each jump bring a satisfying moment of weightlessness before another has its turn.

And then the music calms down, still moving us to sway, but no longer calling us as it did. The doors are opened, and the students move back out, their chatter now excited, electrified with passion. Even the teachers are rejuvenated, heavily breathing, with smiles on their faces. As the last of the people file out, I turn to my companion and smile. She looks at me quizzically.

On the floor behind her, just outside of the sound booth, is a pair of wireless, black headphones.

Fin

Inspired by “You Will Do What We Will Do - Dada Life”