Conversation · Noid

"Let's change the subject.

"Oh yeah. Sure thing."

"So you're advocating a noise-based society?"

"Many non-Occidental cultures share a beat at their heart. Thus, they are closer to true, hard core life. There's just never been enough of them, and they had to rely on some extremely basic percussion."

Lord of the western plain! It is really happening, right here, the migrants are contaminating our youth!

"I should have known! You're taking after the kipts, that's why you're so wacky!"

"Enough now, Noid, you have had enough fun bothering our guest with your crazy theories. Leave him alone."

The one with the bleached hair is not really pulling rank on his friend here. He's just trying to create the impression of himself as a reasonable, moderate leader figure.

No need to get over-excited about it right now. Where were you?

Conjuring terrible visions of the future, which you apparently don't care for.

"You keep mentioning hard core. What does it mean to you?"

"Utmost dedication. Thoughts from the spinal cord. It's a potent superlative as well."

The term also signifies certain varieties of pornography that depict penetration, just so you know.

"Egg Head actually has a better concept of the hard core. He just really likes saying 'hard core'."

"Hard core!" His friend shouts from behind his mix table, with a smile surpassing your own in wideness, a total moon-face, and eyes full of naive wonderment.

"That was vague. Dedication, something else, superlative..."

"Maybe you're being too specific about it. Try consulting with your spinal cord."

"Thank you for clearing that up."

"Happy to help."

"The term hard core also denotes a strain of pornography that depicts penetration, did you know that?"

"That's a pretty hard core coincidence, don't you think?"

"Yeah!"

"But shouldn't the ones that are more hard core rule over the ones that are less hard core, offer them guidance?"

"If some want to lead and others want to be led, I think they are welcome to it."

"I didn't mean it as a bad thing."

"Good to know. Tell me something else."

"I would much rather tell you about true life than this pathetic something else, but you are, after all, the law of the land."

"Could you use your sine-sense to help me contact a Coalition warship?"

"Trying to get aligned with the Big Bad, are you?" He gnaws a screw thoughtfully. "Those are some serious frequencies you want to mess with..."

"Come on, Noid. I think we owe him."

"Acele's right. He's one of us now."

"What's with the clothes?"

He shrugs. "They're hard core."

"That's it?"

"They're just clothes."

"Okay then."

"It's just a style, you know?"

"Are they? They look outlandish."

"No, these are just boring, normal, hard core clothes. That..." he points to your necktie, "that's outlandish."

"It's my friend and accomplice. It makes me party harder."

"I can see that. And you've partied very hard for a very long time, haven't you?"

"It looks like you're trying to hang yourself with it. So large, too. So many different patterns. It's crazy man, I like it."

You suddenly realize the patience and respect this speedfreak has shown you is partly because of your style. He's probably not like that with everyone.

"RESPECT TO THE MAN!"

(Look at your tie suspiciously.) "What's so outlandish about it?"

"It's just a style, you know? Normal hard style. Anyone can wear it."

"I thought there would be more to it."

"No, it's just a vest of suspenders made to resemble a human rib cage. Plus some lady-clothes to piss off the sex-system." He points to your tie. "Now tell me about that hard core necktie. It's fucking primal."

(Look at your tie suspiciously.) "What's so hard core about it?"

"You look like a woman with those earrings."

"You know what I think? I think man, woman, and child are arbitrary divisions which serve to bind humanity to serfdom."

Internalize the hard core aesthetic. Don't just nod along, really feel it.

Dedicated. Hyperactive. Unified. You will have to add something of your own to understand this list of loosely formed qualities called hard core. You need your own entry. Make it!

Test your limits. Surpass them. Dance till you drop. Dance till you die, if you must.

This is for your posse. They got to keep it up. They got to move. You are the major mic enforcer.

Jumping around, as this sort of music requires, is actually a taxing physical activity and should be dignified with a sports suit.

Overwhelm them with moves. Try to have the most moves going on.

Thinking of cornering the moves market. They won't know what hit 'em.

Yeah, you should even try to put moves inside your moves.

I am the law.