Pushing off with your right foot’s set of toes, your left foot slides backward, flat on the ground, and then you repeat the processes left-to-right. Right-to-left. Now you dancing. Surrounded by palm trees and mech-style outfits, you find yourself at night, stranded/dancing/lit on an island somewhere, smiling at bikini tops, pecks, electric-red eyes, and hydraulic legs. One of the artificials flashes you a wink, and nothing else matters but the art of dance. Moonwalking your way over, you impress by yelling, “Is that purple?” The artificial flings its hair, glowing fuchsia in the face, and blinks furiously with clicks louder than the music playing. Eh, it’s because y’all are close. Yet, you can’t hear anything and begin to think its mouth and voice are not syncing up. Maybe it’s defunct. Maybe it’s magic.
Nahh, this artificial is where the music has been bumping from all night. “Mmmdamn, you must got a kickin’ kit, doll!” you exclaim, still dancing, not missing a beat. Then, across the bot’s back reads “Cathedrals De La Rue 737.” You ask, “Is that where we are now? Where am I?” The artificial turns to you and flicks/clicks its eyes again and again, and you turn, bearing witness to the Love Boat in all its mystic majesty. “On that?” pointing with your thumb over your shoulder, still dancing, and follow up with, “Naaaasty, yes!” The artificial smiles, and you see people continuing to fill the dance floor as the ship’s horn blares. “Where are we going?” you ask the loop-nodding artificial, and it projects a hologram into the sky that reads in letters more fantastic than fireworks: PARADISE.
• 20013: https://soundcloud.com/2oo13