You were standing here at a house party when you saw the unmistakable bulk of Tempo del Sur clambering over the rooftops towards you.

You were standing here at a house party when you saw the unmistakable bulk of Tempo del Sur clambering over the rooftops towards you.

"Hershel!"

A lopsided smirk on his face, an unusually light gait. The look of the expertly fucked.

"Someone got laid."

"Fucking hell, what? You can smell cum or something? Well you're right. I'm fucking full of it. Have a fag."

He thrusts a cigarette into your hand, lights his own. Leans back and grins benevolently at the world, giving you a glimpse of a white-powdered nostril.

"I heard the future tonight, Hersh."

"What's it sound like?"

"The Illuminados are waking up, Hersh. Dancing to a new form of electro-pop. A big wave gathering. Developed World's got no idea. No idea." He wipes the wrong nostril on his sleeve.

"Techno-fascist pop music, I don't know. What about the ethnic cleansing?"

"What about it? World doesn't give a fuck about a crime against humanity if you make it all shiny and nsst nsst nsst." He spins an imaginary disc.

"Listen, what's coming is coming. All we can do is make a ton of fucking money from it."

He grabs your arm and drags you down to Party Alley, yelling at every DJ to play 'those fascist cunts with the hair'.

"So what are you gonna do?"

"The hell did you come from?"

"Hoity toity penthouse, over there. He had silk sheets, Hershel."

This is too painful. (Dispel memory.)

Was that the last time you saw him smiling?