Now there was no turning back, they had stepped out of London into a world that was alien and dangerous. Dazzled by laser beams, humbled by the noise, his lungs filling with purple smoke, James stumbled forward like an explorer on Jupiter. The music was so loud he feared that it would interfere with the functioning of his heart, but there was nothing to do but keep going. At the end of the room was an entrance to another, almost identical room, and then another after that. Everyone James had come with had scattered immediately, as if it was an adventure game. He wondered where Erica was, but didn’t know how he could find her, for the nightclub was enormous, in some ways as big as London, with tunnels, steps, vaults and secret chambers that went deep into the ancient heart of Clerkenwell.
By the time he had got to the fourth room, he had started to acclimatise. It was a fundamentally hostile environment, but he could see that it was possible to function. The music no longer crushed him, and his eyes had adapted to the irregular flashes of light. There was little nervousness, the drugs had at least helped with that, but the problem was he now felt restless and manically dissatisfied, with no sensible idea of what it was that he wanted. Just because you’re wandering it doesn’t mean that you’re lost, but in this case it was fair to say that he probably was, and although he was still looking for Erica, he was no longer sure why.
After half an hour, he at least managed to find Carl, who was standing on the edge of a dance floor, drinking a bottle of Coke and with a curious, sinister expression as if some great but unwelcome truth had just been revealed to him.
‘Hi Carl,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where anyone is.’
‘Hi,’ said Carl. ‘Neither do I.’
Carl walked abruptly on, out into another room. That was actually to be expected, for one of the things James had learnt was that sociopathic behaviour was standard here. The music was too loud to do anything else, and there was no reward system for good manners. You banged into people who were in your way, you ordered drinks with hand gestures, and if you wanted to display affection to someone then you danced very closely to them until either something happened or they moved away. And as a result, muted, you ended up feeling lonely and alienated, unless you had taken enough drinks and drugs not to know any better. He thought about sending a text message to Rachel, but didn’t know what to say and, besides, she would be asleep.
James had tried his hardest, but it was no good – he was feeling old again. Worse than that, he was feeling young again. He was surrounded by lovely, frail faces with lean bodies, but there was a seasoned competence to them. They were veterans of London’s night-time economy, and were highly experienced at having a very good time. True, they weren’t obviously enjoying themselves like in other bars and clubs – they weren’t shouting or laughing or fighting, and no one was getting off with anyone else – instead, they were methodical and sombre, focused on the task of dancing to the music as truthfully as possible. And if they weren’t dancing they were resting. Like athletes, they were being careful with their bodies. They drank bottles of mineral water and replenished their blood sugar levels with sucrose bars and energy drinks.
Eventually, he was back in the first room, where some of the others had regrouped. He could see that Felix was dancing brilliantly. Or, at least, and this was the key thing, he looked exactly like he knew what he was doing. He was probably dancing with little technical skill, but that didn’t matter. He was dancing with great strength of character, expressively and in perfect harmony with his worldview. At the same time, and James wasn’t sure how, he was dancing with irony. Rafael and Olivia were dancing nearby, but slowly moving away together. It was inevitable that they would have sex later that night. Erica was nowhere to be seen.
‘Felix, what time is it? We’ve been here for hours.’
‘Alas, young James, I fear you’ve made the mistake of confusing the ontological with the phenomenological. We actually only got here forty minutes ago.’
‘Oh Christ, really?’
‘Don’t look so disheartened, my friend, you’re here to have a good time remember?’
James nodded, and bought a bottle of beer for a bewildering amount of money, but the fact that this would deter poor people from coming was no longer any consolation. At least there was no need to feel self-conscious about things, because no one was taking much interest in anyone else. It was quite possible to look at someone at length without anyone minding, so he did that for a while. There was a woman dancing flamboyantly not far from the bar, and so he watched her. He stared at her for so long, and so intently, that eventually she looked back at him.