Soho

“This way,” I say, “I think…” not completely sure of my sense of direction. I must have sounded convincing enough, because Hermes followed. The irony that I was the one leading Hermes through this land was ironic, but I’m certain I was the only one who noticed.

Soon enough, we were at the gates of a land I had never heard of before he informed me of its existence. People were waiting outside; two nymphs guarded the door. They let us through after Hermes informed them of who we were. I was observing this new place, quietly following my guide.

The stars twinkle red here. The weather is like a warm, oceanic breeze. The earth begins to shake as a most unexpected voice greets me. It sounds like a machine, a robot. A vine slithers out from behind me and wraps itself snugly around my arms, lifting me up and carrying me carefully.

“Come”, the voice says, “let me show you around.”

I have no choice—my arms are tied—and I begin observing the collection of machines housed in this place. I  follow the voice as it leads me through hallways and rooms.

Hermes whispers “We’re in a different room now.”

I hadn’t noticed.

“Now we’re back!” he continues, thoroughly impressed. He frequently gasps in delight, but I can’t see any walls so I have no idea what’s so impressive. Like a child taking a walk through a modern art gallery, I don’t know what I’m expected to feel about all this, nor do I care. I’m enjoying this ride for what it is—a jazz concert in Soho.