FICTION: Rave of the Spheres By Jake Johnson

The DJ was released from the cold metal of the airlock. It drifted purposefully through the void, righting itself in order to properly pierce the star. When it hit, it’s plastic, antiheat shell protected it from the swelling flares and internal furnace of the red giant.

Horace went about his business within the ship as the DJ made its way to the star’s core. He prepared the assemblage of another DJ and supervised the pockets of air which drifted from the ship and into the vacuum. It wasn’t really necessary to install an atmosphere- breathing was no longer a concern- but if it wasn’t present, the sound wouldn’t travel properly. Transmitting into the earpieces of the listeners was something Horace never did, and the extra effort had gained him quite a following- both figuratively and literally.

The first ships had finally caught up with him and were coming to a stop. Horace had a habit of rushing ahead of his followers in order to minimize their wait. The ability to sleep during the intermittent trips had made Horace a revolutionary in the DJ business, if you could call it a business. Horace had no employer or payment, but he had little use for either, and was glad of his nomadic lifestyle.

The DJ had entered the core. The star was now susceptible to some of the strangest technology Horace had ever tried to make sense of- something to do with higher dimensions or some gobbledygook. As long as it worked.

The rest of the ships were arriving, and soon all of the people had arrived. The DJ blasted the sounds of the star, amplified and altered. Beats and rhythms arose from the chaos. As the star change size and color, the music changed pitch and tempo.

For the next twenty hours, everyone danced. They’d danced for decades already, and many of them had no doubt that they’d dance the eternal night away until the stars, comets, worlds and black holes all turned to dust.