Pulse of Purpose

Refrain

We move through the hallway, while I am scouring the people in line for help or an explanation or anything. But I just receive a mixture of confused, amazed, and scared faces.

The man takes me outside and throws me into the back of a black car with tinted windows.

Immediately after the door closes the car moves. I can not tell where we are going since it is tinted from the inside too and a shut window to the front row seats denies me access to any other possibility to figure out the directions. To be honest, I do not know if me being separated from the driver is a good or bad thing.

Apart from the dull humming of the car engine I am completely sealed of from the outside world. I searched the car, seeking answers that remained elusive, leaving me confined to a cocoon of questions.

Why was I here?

With every turn of the car, my little sense of orientation got clouded more and more until the possibilities of my destination erupted into an incomprehensibly large set. But before long the car stopped and the humming of the engine expires. I hear the front door open and presumably the driver stepping into gravel. The steps grow closer, the car door unlocks and a massive man meets my eyes. He gestures me to exit. I comply.

As the by the bright sun shortly induced blindness reverts an enormous mansion unveils, decorated with garden with a plethora of workers making sure of everything, up to the precise length of every blade of gras.

My exploration of this vast plot gets interrupted by the driver addressing me: "This is your new Home. Here are the keys."

He walks me to the ornate front door and opens it: "You will continue to dance."

The marble foyer stretched into infinity its opulence matched only by the crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm glow onto the polished floor and lighting two sets of stairs that wind around a black steel-reinforced door at the center.

"This is where you will perform," he points at the steel-door: "Your next dance is in precisely 53 minutes. Naturally we expect a great performance." As the drive exits, he closes the entrance door leaving me to myself.

A sense of awe enveloped me, and for a moment, I stood there, simply taking in the sheer scale of my house. I cannot wait to explore everything. I glance at the clock: 52 minutes to go. In that moment reality hits me: "Wait! 52 minutes! How am I supposed to choreograph and entire dance in 52 minutes!"

I bolt outside, but the driver is already gone. Impossible! They cannot expect me to figure out a new performance in that short of time. Do they want me to repeat my dance? Hard to believe, they have just seen it already after all. And even if so, I have already forgotten my improvised parts. I think stressing out too much about this is just going to harm my performance in the end, therefore I guess it is best if I just have fun, that seemed to work after all. I am going to improvise my dance; I just need to pick a song.

I walk up to one of the workers in the garden and ask them: "Hi! Where can I find headphones and a source of music?"

"I will show you. Just follow me." The woman greets me and leads me inside through the many halls to what looks to be an entire dance studio. The well light room consists of a large free space, mirror walls with these metallic handles and lots of equipment ranging from a variety of music boxes and speakers to lots of mp3-players with earbuds and headphones of all sorts.

"Is all of that mine?" I question in disbelief.

"Yes" she smiles.

I grin too: "Really"