The train rattles through the tunnels beneath the midnight city. I sit in the center of the carriage, body rocking gently with the motion. I close my eyes as the rumbling, metallic thunder slowly begins to fade into the very periphery of my awareness.
And with each soothing breath which permits me deeper and deeper, in it's place, I tune in and I hear it.
Crystal clear and as delicate as lace, thrumming through the core of my being.
a-click-tick-tick-tick a-click-tick-tick-tick a-click-tick-tick-tick
The outside world is now as good as silent, and all that fills the expanse of my mind is that light mechanical ticking, punctuated with the rhythm of my beating heart.
I open my eyes again and glance down the silent carriage. Faces speak and mouths laugh noiselessly and all the while the ticking grows, my breathing and bloodbeat keeping perfect tempo.
I glance down at my arms and watch as the skin ripples beneath my gaze. I flex my fingers and watch as thin streams of light radiate from my fingertips and chase down the tendons and veins of my hand like a fuse, the very atoms that make up my skin humming and vibrating with hushed anticipation, glittering like fireflies.
I focus on one particular fuse, watching it fizzle beneath the surface of my body, dancing up through my bloodstream and into the furnace beneath my ribcage.
There, deep in the heart of my solar plexus, this spark catalyses into a divine kind of energy.
Feverish in the grand anticipation reserved for something solely divine, lies those infinite golden little cogs, gears and spindles which collaborate in seamless harmony to form this intricate celestial timepiece, that whirrs and clicks with increasing tempo as it recognises the approach of something monumental.
The coming of the first full revolution.
With a fever pitch reaching a near uncontrollable ferocity which sends plumes of adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream, I know the moment is imminent.
Through countless years, these internal mechanics have remained dusty and corroded, mismatched with pieces perpetually dislodged, with only fleeting hopeful moments of apparent functionality.
All of which now only pales in comparison to the fluid flawlessness of this impending evoloution.
My meek, physical form, barely able to operate with the amount of power being drawn inward, stumbles up from underground, a sudden burst of sub-tropical city air pulling me back to the present.
A sound from this outer world penetrates my mind, the rolling, undulating melody from the street saxophonist on the corner. The sound weaves its way into the symphony of clicks and ticks and beats, and the rhythm only serves to increase the tempo, mirroring the rising sensation in the core of my being.
And suddenly, I know it's time.
These burning fuses of light seem to electrify my hands and my entire form begins to quiver and shake under the power of the coming metamorphosis. My chest and shoulders rise and fall with rhythmic urgency and the ground beneath my feet begins to crack and shatter with a deep, satisfactory rumble.
The city whispers on around me and I see it all with a clarity synonymous only with transcendence.
Finally, I throw back my head and my arms in rhapsody as the pinnacle of the revolution grips my entire form.
And from there I watch, ablaze, as one by one the towering lights which surround me flicker and falter under the surge of this power. I instinctively reach a hand toward them and draw every little light from these buildings, winding my hand around them like rope and pulling them into me. With my other hand I reach out and draw the light from the traffic and the city streets, sirens, headlights and traffic signals magnetised to me, drawn through space and time unto the tips of my fingers and travelling through my veins with marine-like bioluminescence.
With the brute force of this fathomless energy streaming into my hungry, insatiable soul, I draw my limbs inward, concentrating every last iota of this power into the furnace of my heart, determined to channel it until it can take no more.
Then finally, my physical form falls away like dust as I cast myself skyward and explode into the night.