Capítulo 96: contagio
March 19.
-In a private condominium in New York, a sprawling mansion on at least ten acres featured a vast yard large enough to accommodate 1,000 people. The flat expanse was dotted with a white tent, flaunting a stage, while flowers adorned the spacious southern wing of the mansion. The event was simple; spring was a perfect time for such gatherings, but the heaters at the exit ensured a comfortable climate for the afternoon and the occasion.
-"There are many people you can't afford to offend. You're the center of attention here, so be careful with your words and actions. Don't make any commitments—we have a concert in England in seven days, so your schedule is packed until summer. That should be your answer," advised Michael Oclkars.
-"You all need to be cautious, especially considering everything that's happened," Michael reiterated to the band, who were about to perform at a private concert. Though the payment was enormous, they were bound by a confidentiality agreement regarding everything at the party, including the restricted guest list. Reading emotions had become a learned skill; the constant use of their own emotions gave them insight into how others reacted, as if a cloud of feelings enveloped people. Discomfort reflected in anger, anxiety, and, of course, the disdainful glares from the older guests were clear indicators.
-"I don't think the atmosphere is great," Billy observed, warning his band. He only needed to sit and sing—his voice was good enough without needing to project his emotions onto others. However, he knew that if channeled correctly, anger could turn into frustration, and narrowing someone down to a moral judgment could result in a broad repertoire of songs. But not every song is perfect for every moment.
He needed something that would make people feel discomfort when they heard it. The more he learned to harness his emotions and captivate the audience, the more addicted they would become to him. Primal feelings could be manipulated in anyone, even negative ones.
-"I think we can play a few irreverent songs," Billy said. "But let's start with one of my favorites, something that will stir their emotions. After all, it's a party, and we're only going to sing our songs. I know Hard music will be unpleasant for these old folks. Spencer, I sent you a track recently—have you worked on it?"
Spencer grinned. "We've got it," he said, placing a hand on Connor's shoulder.
Jack Sauce and Sugar Egg nodded in agreement, knowing what Billy was about to do. He was ready to turn a wake into a riot, with his name echoing through the chaos, as he bowed his head, ready to spit on the cake.
Crazy. (gnarl crazy).
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
I remember when
I remember I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place
Even your emotions have an echo in so much space
And when you're out there without care
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Possibly
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
-Death, the fear of death—this was the concept that began to take root in the song, with the hands of death placed in an uncontrollable situation. It's when people lose control that their calm facade, the unreadable poker face, loses its meaning, and emotions emerge like a swirling ball of color.
Some shifted uncomfortably in their seats; the song was good, but the intense focus of such a silent audience, save for a few at the table—mostly younger, contemporaries of Billy—enjoyed it. However, the ominous pressure generated by Billy as he radiated darkness, teetering on the brink of madness before death, caused discomfort among the crowd. It was at this moment, as appearances crumbled, that Billy smiled at the audience.
He felt like a shinigami, foretelling their fate.
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
And I hope that you are having the time of your life
But think twice, that's my only advice
Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you
Who do you think you are
Ha ha ha, bless your soul
You really think you're in control
I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
Just like me
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
...
The song didn't have much content, and the chorus repeated, but it allowed Billy to fully extend his vocal abilities. Though Billy didn't know, this table had hosted the likes of Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Bob Dylan… others too. It was an honor for him to be part of a gathering with such deep undertones. Billy didn't need to dance—he was as close to Bob Dylan as one could get, but with an intensity and endless practice that allowed him to transform any window into paradise, any window into an abyss. By delving into a profound theme, and touching the souls of those who listened, he earned a space to subvert all who were present.
Just one thing! Extend his emotions! Perpetually.
….
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on the limb
And all I remember is thinking I want to be like them
Ever since I was little
Ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done
But maybe I'm crazy
Maybe you're crazy
Maybe we're crazy
Probably
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
…
-As the song ended, the eyes fixed on him gave him a deeper gaze—this was the look he deserved. And now, he would make them reflect and drink. He noticed a few glasses on the tables; his work was done, but it was only the beginning. Now, he needed a depth that only "Like a Stone" by Audioslave could provide.
And so he did, his gritty, powerful voice resonating, admitting to many that it wasn't his fault—he was just an artist channeling his emotions through a small speaker, and the power of his voice began to move the crowd. The younger ones started nodding their heads, while the older guests couldn't help but tap their legs and shoulders. It was something natural, a primal response ingrained over millions of years—dancing before the fire, passed down through generations. The monkey dance took hold, and they lost themselves in the power of it all.
Billy's smile as he watched the audience was one of satisfaction, as images of moments of happiness washed over him—the ocean crashing against the beaches of Los Angeles at sunset, overwhelming those present, and the lingering sound of a guitar.
The scent of salt, followed by the wind, followed by nostalgia… he closed his eyes when he saw some of the quieter ones crying—they are always the ones who cry. He continued with "Show Me How to Live" by Audioslave, perfect for drawing everyone's attention as night fell, this time over a thousand-story building, a vertigo of emotions.
An hour and a half later, everyone had been baptized by the star—this is what people called his concerts. Now, having fans with deep pockets was just a bonus—more tickets, more publicity.
With the green light, the stage lights dimmed for three minutes, while a Beethoven piece played over the speakers. Billy now donned a full suit, complete with a hat.
-"We were asked to bring something special, and well, we have our own single, still in the works. We can only perform it ahead of time, so Patrice, I hope you love it."
Billy tipped his hat.
"Feeling Good," new (Michael Bublé).
Billy's voice reverberated like a saxophone, powerful, and his dance gestures were the image he wanted to create—a vision of madness. He imprinted a primal desire for sex in Patrice's mind, a primitive longing.
…
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
Birds flying high
You know how I feel
Sun in the sky
You know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by
You know how I feel
It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
And I'm feeling good
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
...
He moved his hips to a Jazz beat—it was like an explosion of the senses. The scream that escaped from Patrice was pitiful, indecorous, unaccustomed. Some women clutched their hearts, crying out and causing startled men to glance at their companions. Billy's dance blinded the women, their screams fueling more emotions until the swaying rhythm drove them mad. Blinded by this new way of seeing, the simplicity of the songs was lost in the intensity, his voice seemingly designed to evoke a relentless sensation.
He was like a star, shining a light that overwhelmed the women's composure, who cried out in anger, their emotions spiraling out of control as Billy, holding his hat, moved his hips, his chest thrusting forward and back, igniting a frenzy.
…
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
I'm feeling good
Fish in the sea
You know how I feel
River running free
You know how I feel
Blossom on a tree
You know how I feel
It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
And I'm feeling good
Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don't you know
Butterflies all havin' fun, you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done, that's what I mean
And this old world is a new world
And a bold world
For me
For me
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
...
No one could believe it. Could this be possible? Jerry watched everything from a corner of the stage. Billy's performance was as erotic as a film, a strike of madness, a shattering into ten thousand pieces.
-Billy, what have you done? - Jerry wondered.
None of this could be elevated, Billy's power was like a shield, a different era—freedom was now more relevant, and people were freer to choose their path, but the way he sang… Jerry had to make notes for future performances. The spice and flavor of his words could be considered a blow to those who didn't understand the music.
For others in the music industry, it was a call to something brilliant, history in the making. Emotions, feelings, and transcendence began to forge a bond, driving a nail deep into the hearts of those in the room, and even making Patrice fall in love. It was strange how something so common could be so everlasting.
…
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
Stars when you shine
You know how I feel
Scent of the pine
You know how I feel
Oh, freedom is mine
And I know how I feel
It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
Caught in Billy's scheme.
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
It's a new life
For me
And I'm feeling good
I'm feeling good
I feel so good
I feel so good
🎶🎶🎵 🎶🎶🎵
...
Billy's intensity remained on stage, though his words were no longer spoken. Billy was a towering figure of power, looming over everyone. As he looked around, his mere presence caused the woman to breathe heavily. Patrice, who bore the full intensity, was completely flushed, her eyes unfocused. Anyone seeing her would think she'd had an orgasm—not far from the truth. When people listen to music, dopamine is released, creating feelings of well-being, pleasure, and responsibility, followed by a balance of serotonin, not far from oxytocin. A single touch could send a woman to paradise; a single touch brought Patrice to the best orgasm of her life.
-Thank you all for listening, - Billy said in a hoarse voice after two hours of singing. The young star was tired, having been on tour.
...
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