Midnight Cabaret

Intro

C:\>user ident: Caroline

The footpaths below were packed with teeming throngs of people as my autonomous town car glided across the elevated road way. This part of the city always seemed so alive. Nightclubs lined the narrow blocks and neon dominated the marquees. I leaned out the window, enjoying the rare feeling of the wind on my face. The music from the clubs and the chattering of people was loud enough to be heard over the rushing air. I took simple pleasure in watching the crowds go by. I wasn't allowed out much, but these drives were my saving grace.

The car turned down an offramp, prying me away from the scenery. I frowned and rolled my window up as the autopilot pulled the car into a garage above a nightclub. The drive was always my favorite part of the night, but the work wasn't bad. If only the club owners weren't so sleazy. This particular club's owner was a greasy man with a thick southern accent. He opened the car door for me and offered me his sausage-fingered hand, rambling about how nice it was to see me. Fortunately, my managers arrived in time to intercept the owner. They began their usual ritual of self-congratulatory glad-handing, and I rose out of the car unaided.

Once my managers took over the conversation I didn't speak. No one wanted to hear my voice anyway. Not until my set started. Then it was bad for my health to hold back my voice. My bubbling entourage ushered me through the garage and into a large, opulent elevator as we moved down towards the club. I could see the crowded dancefloor through the two-way glass and the dull thud of the bass could be heard even in the insulated elevator car. I smiled a bit as I watched the people pulse and move to the beat of the music. I hated the electro-pulse nonsense they played in these clubs; I could never sing to it, but there was just something about watching people dance. It was better when they were dancing to my beat, but I took my joy where I could.

Girls swung from poles on stages dotted about the room. They were almost certainly androids, but if the customers knew they didn't show it. These days it was hard to tell. The dancers' outfits bulged with cash money, though I suppose this was the only use for cash these days. I wondered if those androids felt as good as I did while I performed. My face fell as the elevator hit the ground floor. I knew that if those girls were as happy as I was while I was singing, then they must feel just as lonely as I did in the moments in between. I hoped that those dancers were fucking miserable on those poles. Then maybe they had a shot to be happy. One could only preform for so long after all, even in these four a.m. bars.

I followed my entourage as we collectively walked out onto a mezzanine circling the main room. The full brunt of the music finally struck me, blotting out my managers' inane conversation. I'd heard the song before. I'd memorized the tracks these clubs used long ago. Each DJ remixed it a little, but the same basic beats and rhythms were always there. Identifying the songs was simply a matter of memory, it was a little game of mine. This DJ didn't seem to be trying very hard. That or I was getting too good. At least I could be alone with my thoughts under the blanket of bass.

My managers ushered me down a staircase to a backstage area, positioning me in the center of the stage. Stage hands and bouncers eyeballed me as I smoothed my fluffy skirts. I tried to center my mind on the task at hand. This was my least favorite part of working. I hated being trapped back her with these people. The managers, the owners, the bouncers, and the stagehands all seemed so disillusioned with the whole production. They glared at me like a piece of meat as I waited. I was sure they were toasting my success with one hand while counting up my cost with the other. The business side of my performances made me sick to my stomach. I knew that one day my managers would decide I cost more than I was worth. I knew that one day I would long for this sickening anticipation. I knew I would long for anything to get my career back. And in that moment before ever single show that wave of anxiety ran through me like it was my first time all over again. And each time right before I finally broke under the pressure the would curtain gentle rise, and the world would melt away.

My heavy heeled boots clicked against the glassy black marble stage as the lights turned towards me.The music died, but the room still roared with the sound of partying. I couldn't tell if people were cheering or even looking at me. The lights washed out everything past the end of the stage, letting me focus on the microphone ahead of me. There was a bandstand somewhere behind my left shoulder. I barely caught a glance of it as I reached my mark. The band looked like robots. Fairless human than the dancers. They struck up a song and my lips spread into a smile. I knew the slow, driving beat. It was swing remix of an old hip-hop number, one of my favorites. I slipped my gloved hand around the stand of the stylized art deco microphone, my fingers snapping with the beat as I slipped into the opening lyrics.