Most people leaving SegFault feel numb after a night of partying to the newest, hottest beats, drinking top shelf nanite-liquor, and jacking into hell knows what black box was put on display in the middle of the room. Even the constant barrage of adverts, the melting-pot of culture filling the streets, and cavalcade of people, cars, and drones whizzing by can't compare to the thrill of a good rave. The streets stink of greasy, undercooked meat, and human sweat. A pair of drunken strangers stumble out of SegFault beside you, and continue their drunken groping as one of them hails a cab. You can feel the primitive joy boiling inside their shells. When the drugs wear off, and they regain the full gamut of emotions, they might regret this decision — but for now, they're a roaring blaze of sensation for you. Quite the show, really.
It's late – even by club standards. Were you on the clock tonight, Havana, or just out blowing off some steam? Who comes up beside you, and smiles?