prompt

The bass. It was unbelievable, the things they could do with tech anymore. It was hard, pulsing, jetting, bass. The beats were erratic, crazy, and hectic, just like every other being in the building. She could hardly believe there were so many different races, species, even. Earth, being the most recent addition to the U.G., had been taking full advantage of the situation to make a killing in profit on the home planet.

That didn’t matter to her.

This was what mattered.

The swaying of bodies, crushed together, pulsating to some unknown rhythm…

It was addicting. Five minutes in the door, and she was already swaying, hair shifting and fluttering with each motion of her head. Here, it didn’t matter what race you were. Your skin color. White. Black. That crazy tiger/snakeskin thing the Wricrans had going for them. Here, it was all about the movement. The dance.

And it was perfect.