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Darwinian Salsa

A little over a year ago, two unknowing souls embarked upon a journey into a universe whose name they thought was salsa. To the surprise of the two naive girls, that universe turned out to be prism of multi-verses. An innocent journey of couple’s dancing suddenly became an adventure down a rabbit hole.

Some universes are ruled by 1 dimension. The one that Bianca and Nova stumbled upon was on-2. They are still trying to figure out if its a hospitable place for them, or if they have been tricked into a heartless black hole.

Salsa on-2 seems to follow some type of weird evolutionary process. It’s evident as you pass by the different planets, with their abundance of species (The Topsy-Turveys, the Fred Astaires, etc, etc).  But Bianca and Nova have recently stumbled upon something startling, something that goes a little further than “salsa characters”. It’s Darwinian Salsa. And there exists the Nietzschean “Superman”.

The first sign that some weird Darwinian evolution type of shit goes on if you dance on-2 for too long appeared for Nova at a social ripe with stellar dancers. The dance floor was filled with pretties laying down graceful styling on count. But then a wind swept across the room. A girl walked in swathed in skin-tight shimmery black, with flaming hot pink leg warmers wrapped around her stilt-like legs. Her steps cut through the air with precision, swiftness and purpose. Her moves were quick, tight and controlled. Nova had never seen such a creature before, and the good anthropologist that she is, reported the sighting to Bianca. Nova named her “Scissor Legs”.

Months passed. Nova never saw another like “Scissor Legs” again, so shrugged her shoulders and called it an anomoly.

Until last weekend. After a hour and a half journey in salsa space (an eternity for an anxious salsera ready to land her dancing shoes on the on-2 moon), Nova arrived at a social with Bianca.  Towards midnight, that familiar wind breezed across the dance floor. Nova immediately recognized that sharp breeze, the swift snipping sound of nylon briskly rubbing against itself in self-pleasure, the clip of a fine stiletto cutting through the air. It was a Scissor, but not “Scissor Legs”. That is when it occurred to Bianca and Nova: what they were witnessing was not an anomoly but an entity who inhabits the highest female realm of the on-2 scene. They are beyond the 1-2-3, 5,6,7 count, yet still, somehow dance on-2. The holiest among holies, those who have reached a type of on-2 Nirvana where they control the count and beat. Masters of the on-2 Universe!

They are called Scissors.

Bianca and Nova now know there is such thing as a holy grail for them somewhere along this journey.

And as Nova began to pen these notes in her mind, the wind whipping across her face, her ears pick up the gentle beginnings of another breeze from the middle of the dance floor. It was Bianca in what looked like a Scissor pose. She notes in her anthropologist journal:

Clear evidence that evolution is not a theory but a fact in the on-2 world. New arrivals are not immune. On-2 is a contagion that manipulates genes. The first signs of  Bianca’s evolution are already underway. There is no turning back.

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