Take Ten: The Promise & Perils of Secular Music
Sidewalks of paranoid locals study me. A rough man grips a large, nearly empty bottle. I struggle to make eye contact. He lifts his vice and slurs, "D'ya know what this's for?" He throws it to the ground. Glass shrapnel pegs my shoes. He is now out of alcohol. I keep walking. Loiterers on the opposite side of the street blast peculiar music: Black Sabbath's "Nativity in Black." Recognizing the opening bassline, I stop. The street ends with a glass entrance. I open the doors to a colorfully dim binge where N.I.B. is inexplicably louder. I weave through the crowd as Lucifer sings his mantra: "please take my hand." A tall, gothic woman rushes towards me. Startled, I notice a second set of doors, but my putty hands are useless. My body becomes numb. The room spins, and I sink to the floor as the final guitar solo blares in full effect. Holding a syringe, the woman approaches me and coldly utters, "I don't know why you do this to yourself," as she injects me.