“You can’t fire me, Nico,” Elena said, holding up her phone. On it was a recording of him presenting her brainwave concept to the investor. “I have the original proposal, timestamped, with your mocking reply from six months ago. I’ve already sent it to the investor, the club owner, and a lawyer.”
She smiled.
Panic is a frequency that travels fast. Nico grabbed the microphone. “Technical difficulties! Give us two minutes!” Crusy - Goes Around Comes Around -Original Mix-...
Then she opened her production software and began to remix it. Not for revenge. For renewal. Because she knew now what the track had been trying to tell everyone all along: energy never dies. It only changes shape. What you push into the world—the cruelty, the theft, the silence—will always find its way back to you. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, it comes back as a beat you can dance to.
That night, as the breakdown of Goes Around Comes Around washed over the club—the bass fading to a shimmering pad, the crowd holding its breath in the silent pocket before the storm—Elena made her move. “You can’t fire me, Nico,” Elena said, holding
But the show was over for Nico. As he lay on the floor, tangled in cables and shame, the main power breaker tripped. Total darkness. Then, the emergency lights flickered on—weak, blue, clinical. They illuminated only one thing: Nico’s face, staring up at the ceiling, as the final words of the acapala looped one last time from the bathroom speakers: “Comes around.”
“What you give… you get back… goes around… comes around…” I’ve already sent it to the investor, the
Six months ago, she had pitched an idea to Nico: a multi-sensory show where lights and sound would react to brainwave sensors on the dancers. “Too expensive. Too weird. No one cares about your art,” he’d sneered. Then, last week, he’d presented her exact concept to a tech investor as his own. He called it “Neuro-Sync.”