New World Disorder

Chapter Ten

Friday, April 9, 2010

"Are you ready?" Kirstin asked.

Oran grimaced. "You tell me." He was wearing an outfit his sister had picked for him after canvasing his entire closet looking for anything that might not embarrass her to be seen with.

She examined his dark grey suit and black t-shirt combination critically. "It will have to do. I think I need to take you shopping this weekend."

"Your shirts are getting a little tight," his mother agreed.

"God save me ..." Oran muttered hoping the others would not hear. His mother gave him a quelling look that confirmed she had. He nodded his acquiescence. He would go shopping.

Oran and Kirstin left a bit after nine. He was surprised that a high school party started so late. Pope remembered the wild parties of the late 1960's in his friend's homes when their parents were away. Oran had never been invited to this sort of party. He had mostly been to get-togethers with his small circle of friends. When they arrived at the venue he was again surprised at the overwhelming ostentation. It seemed that Miss Mooar had rented a popular nightclub for the event. The bouncers were checking for invitation rather than IDs.

They stood on the red carpet, paparazzi snapping away. Fame through wealth was a familiar phenomenon, but he had never experienced it from the wealthy side. Oran could hear the music from outside, but did not know if that was because of his enhanced hearing. Kirstin's anxiety was apparent from her grip on his arm and her hesitant steps. She let several people pass them by while she watched.

"Do you want to give it all a miss?" Oran asked, faking a British accent.

"I wish," Kirstin said quietly, "I really don't want to be here, but I have to."

"You don't, you know?" Pope said. "Even if blowing this off costs your friendship with Noreen. Even if it costs you popularity, this is just high school, not real life. Many people have survived high school without being in the in-crowd."

"You sound like some old man. I know I can survive. But I like being popular. Believe it or not, I've worked for it. And I don't want to throw it all away." Kristin seemed to convince herself. She squared her shoulders and marched forward. "Let's go."

"Yes, Ma'am," Oran winced when she said 'old man'. Pope's perspective, while valid was not something most teens were ready to listen to. He followed her into the chaos.

Loud music, pulsing lights, aromatic illegalities, a plethora of radio emitters, and writhing bodies partially hidden in the shadows all assaulted Oran's new senses. He had never experienced anything like it. He stumbled and caught himself on a pillar.

His sister noticed and asked "Are you ok?"

"Gotta hit the toilet."

She looked around for a moment then pointed. "Over there."

He lurched towards them, leaving her behind. Once inside he locked himself in a stall and put his hands over his ears. He concentrated hard on damping down the sights, sounds, smells, and other inputs. He regulated his breathing and with it his senses. It took almost five minutes before he was able to function without nausea inducing headaches. He wasn't happy, but he would survive. Finally remembering why he was there, he tried to scan for Kirstin. As soon as he opened up his senses he was overcome by the deluge of noise. A minute later he realized he would have to do it the old fashioned way. He went out into the club to search for her.

It was another five minutes of wandering what looked like the set of Bob Guccione's Caligula combined with the Oscars Oran discovered his sister. Unfortunately she was with her brother, her "best friend", and Jonas in the VIP section of the balcony. The lighting was such that no one could see them from the floor, but the important people could look out and watch the peons at play.