Thursday, March 15, 2012

Death's Symphony In E Minor

By Joe Jablonski

Sitting within the rickety shack he called home, Blake stood before a machine five years in the making; a twisted meld of wires, processors, sequencers and synaptic convertors. He called it the harmony engine. It was a precision tuned piece of equipment whose only function was that formulating the perfect song.

Excitement and anticipation welled up inside him as he grabbed a head cap lined with tiny neural readers and strapped it tight with a chinstrap. A pair of soundproof headphones rounded out the cranial accessories quite nicely.

Taking a deep breath, Blake flipped the switch. From the very first chord the music was ecstasy, each note resonating as if in tune with his very soul.

Digital matrixes within the machines’ software read and responded to every subtle emotional change within Blake’s neural network and adjusted the tune accordingly for maximum affect.

The tones, patterns, and sounds became more complex, merging together into a cyclone of harmonies.

It was more beautiful that he could have ever imaged. Soon, he achieved climax yet still couldn’t tear himself away from the music. Every second brought more and more bliss—better than sex, better that everything.

First came paralysis.

Slowly, the resonation built until he lost synapse control. In moments, Blake was on the floor twitching under the weight of so many perfect frequencies.

Twitching became convulsing, but the failings of his body were of no consequence. With his mind overloaded, he just lay there letting the music wash over him.

His bladder emptied, followed by his bowels and he couldn’t care less.

Next came pain.

Blake’s muscles locked up so tight, they broke bone. The teeth within his mouth shattered under the lock of his jaw.

The music was too beautiful for him to handle, yet still it improved. Blake was overwhelmed, lost within the music’s embrace. He needed it to end; he wanted it to last forever. With shaking hands, he tried to pull his headphones off, but found he no longer had control of his body.

A layer of the world was ripped from the rest unleashing a torrent of colors which danced in a fading vision; a swirl of pastel hues forming complex patterns, juxtaposed over everything. The patterns throbbed in sync with the music lulling him further into the sweet embrace of oblivion.

Something snapped and everything went black.  

Surrendering to the musical assault, Blake’s body and mind imploded under the perfection of the chaotic melody, his last moment’s ones of excruciating bliss.


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