SoundForm

When faced with something beautiful, does a hurricane stop to admire it, or does it barrel through, indifferent to all that stands in its way?

It was March 19, 2033, a typical Wednesday evening in Manhattan’s South Bronx. A marketing master class gathered eager students, all hoping to sharpen their skills. The room buzzed with conversations—women of all backgrounds, each sharing ambitions and business dreams. But that night’s session would be anything but typical.

She walked in with a confidence that seemed to silence the air. Long, waist-length brown hair, impossibly sleek, cascaded down her back. Her emerald eyes glistened with an intensity that dared anyone to look away. Her presence felt out of place, like a phoenix in a flock of sparrows. It didn’t take long for the energy in the room to shift.

Karen Cooper, a short-haired blonde with sharp blue eyes, sat near the front. Her demeanor was no-nonsense, practical. She noticed the woman instantly, her eyes narrowing as if she could sense trouble. The lecture went on, but Karen’s focus was elsewhere, her gaze frequently flickering toward the newcomer. The room hummed with casual conversation until a single comment ignited a spark.

The brown-haired woman, now engaged in the discussion, spoke with a voice as smooth as velvet, but her words held an edge. She talked about beauty in marketing—how aesthetics could be more powerful than efficiency. Karen, always pragmatic, scoffed under her breath.

“That’s ridiculous,” Karen muttered. “Beauty over efficiency? That’s how you bankrupt a business.”

Her words were sharp enough to cut through the lecture, drawing eyes toward the two women. The brown-haired woman, unfazed, met Karen’s glare with a cool smile.

“Sometimes beauty is the only thing that sells,” she replied, her tone light but laced with challenge.

What began as a debate quickly spiraled. Voices rose, cutting through the air like a pair of dueling swords. The other attendees shifted uncomfortably in their seats, sensing the growing tension. One by one, they filtered out, leaving the two women locked in a battle neither was willing to lose.

By 11:37 p.m., Karen’s head buzzed with unresolved anger and vodka. She wandered into a nightclub, the kind that still clung to its old-fashioned charm despite the advancing world outside. The wooden bar, the dim lights, the smell of spilled liquor—it was a refuge from the chaos of the day.

Karen downed two shots of vodka in quick succession, hoping the burn would wash away her frustration. She found herself on the dance floor, letting the heavy beat of the music pulse through her, numbing her mind. But as the rhythm enveloped her, she spotted a familiar figure across the room.

The brown-haired woman. Here, of all places.

Karen’s blood boiled. The alcohol in her veins only fueled her anger as she pushed her way through the crowd, her eyes fixed on her rival. She’d slap that smug look right off her face.

She finally closed the distance, her hand raised, ready to strike. But then, something unexpected happened.

The brown-haired woman turned, emerald eyes locking onto Karen’s with a gaze that held something Karen hadn’t anticipated. The world around them seemed to pause, the pulsing music fading into the background. Without warning, the woman leaned in and kissed her.

Karen froze. The anger that had roiled inside her evaporated in the heat of the kiss. Her raised hand fell, forgotten. She found herself responding, caught in a moment that defied all logic.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. They stumbled out of the club together, their bodies entwined as they navigated the city’s dark streets. By morning, Karen awoke to find herself in an unfamiliar bed, her head resting on the brown-haired woman’s shoulder. Their eyes met, and Karen knew something had shifted. Something permanent.

Her name was Janet Brice, and from that night on, they were inseparable.

A month later, they were living together, and their conversations shifted from passionate debates to ambitious plans. Janet was a designer, a visionary with a flair for the unconventional. Karen, with her banking background, knew how to make things happen. Together, they dreamed up an idea that could revolutionize the nightlife scene: SoundForm, a nightclub that would fuse technology, art, and energy into a seamless experience.

Janet designed every detail—walls that could shift and change with the music, a dance floor that generated its own power, and a space that felt alive, constantly evolving with the rhythms of the crowd. Karen secured the funding, working her banking contacts with precision. Within months, their vision came to life.

SoundForm became an instant hit. The walls shimmered like a living organism, changing color and texture to match the pulse of the music. The dance floor, embedded with LEDs, glowed with a hypnotic light that gave the illusion of an endless depth beneath the dancers’ feet. The more people danced, the more energy the club generated, creating a self-sustaining circuit of movement and electricity.

It wasn’t long before the club became the hottest destination in the city. Famous DJs clamored for a chance to perform there, and soon, SoundForm expanded into other cities, building an empire out of rhythm and light.

But as their business grew, so did the cracks in their relationship.

“You’re not serious about this, are you?” Janet’s voice cracked, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stood in the doorway of their minimalist kitchen. Her hands trembled as she clutched the edge of the marble countertop.

Karen stood on the other side, her arms crossed, face tight with frustration. “It’s already done, Janet. I’ve made the deal.”

Janet’s brow furrowed, her voice rising. “You agreed without even talking to me? You know what this club means to me! You’re going to let them sell drugs in SoundForm—our SoundForm! How could you?”

Karen’s eyes darkened, but her voice remained steady, cold. “It’s just business. We’re not dealing ourselves, Janet. We’re facilitating, and the money—do you understand what kind of money we’re talking about? It’ll fund the space station project. We’ll be the first to open a club in space! Imagine that.”

“Imagine that? All I can imagine is you tearing apart everything we built.” Janet’s voice wavered, but the fire in her eyes didn’t. “You’re destroying the heart of SoundForm. This is supposed to be about art, about freedom, about people experiencing beauty—not turning them into addicts! I won’t let you turn this place into a soulless machine, Karen.”

Karen took a step closer, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You don’t get it. You never have. This is bigger than your art, bigger than your so-called beauty. This is the future. And sometimes, the future isn’t pretty.”

Janet’s chest heaved, her voice breaking. “I won’t let you do this. I’ll take everything from you. Our business, our life together. I’ll see to it that the police know everything. I’ll—”

“Don’t you dare,” Karen growled, her eyes narrowing. Her hand twitched toward the statue on the table, fingers brushing its cold surface. “Don’t you dare threaten me.”

The room crackled with tension, a long moment of silence stretching between them. Then, with a sudden, violent motion, Karen swung the statue, her eyes blazing with cold determination. The sharp crack echoed through the room, and Janet crumpled to the floor, the fire in her eyes extinguished forever.

The next morning, Janet was gone—her body, the bloodied statue, all traces of the crime erased.

Karen’s ambition knew no bounds. The idea of weightless dancing, of expanding beyond Earth itself, thrilled her beyond any morality.

She struck a deal with a shadowy conglomerate, allowing them to monitor SoundForm’s customers and move drugs through her nightclubs.

By March 1, 2039, SoundForm had expanded to the stars. The first-ever space nightclub opened, offering weightless dancing to a galaxy of patrons. But the heart of the empire had long since rotted away.

And no one would ever know how far Karen had gone to build her dream.