Rudy Gay had given up hope long ago. Here, in Derrick Williams’ dungeon, there was no such thing as hope. There was only dubstep. Dubstep composed by the corrupted brain of the one who had adopted the moniker “Professor Dubbenstein”.
There was no respite from the hellish noise which echoed throughout the underground chamber nor from the endlessly strobing lights which flashed in shades of pink, blue, and green. Rudy had given up trying to use his phone, as its only use now was to count down the days towards demise; some kind of signal-blocking material surrounded the dungeon, and any attempt to place a call to the outside world was fruitless.
Rudy knew he would not survive this ordeal. However, he could not reconcile the sheer senselessness of Derrick’s behavior. Dragging himself to his feet, Rudy wobbled towards the stage where Derrick conducted his unceasing dubstep symphony.
—
Derrick Williams, clad in a white lab coat and aviator goggles, shuttled between the array of laptops which were his base of operations. When not engaged with controlling the racks of servers which computed the nefarious algorithms of his music, Derrick swung his limbs and ran erratically about the makeshift stage in a grotesque pantomime of dance. It had been this way for days, although, down here, the concept of “days” seemed hopelessly obsolete.
His teammates were enjoying his show. Of that he was sure. His dubstep was of the finest quality. They had resisted at first, but the power of his drops was too alluring, the intensity of his wubs too addictive, for them to resist for long. The phrase “captive audience” popped into his brain, and he giggled to himself.
Through the flashing lights, he could see a figure stumbling towards the stage. Verifying that the next hour of dub was ready to go, he waited for his visitor. Whoever it was, he had a difficult time pulling himself up onto the four-foot-high stage, and when he finally did, it was a while before he moved again.
Eventually, the man was able to get to his feet, and as the man got closer, Derrick saw that it was Rudy Gay. Derrick waited patiently for his teammate to speak first.
“Why, Derrick?” Rudy gasped, his voice barely able to be heard over the piercing bleeps and bloops of the music. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because it is my destiny. I have left Derrick Williams behind, to become Professor Dubbenstein!”
“No. Why…why this?” Rudy asked, gesturing weakly towards the rest of the dungeon, where the rest of his Kings teammates had succumbed to various stages of hunger, thirst, or insanity.
Triggered by the pleading tone of Rudy’s voice, Derrick suddenly found himself revisiting long-buried memories.
—
“Daddy? Daddy, where are you?” Derrick called out, his three-year-old legs carrying him through their apartment. “I wanna play!” From his short perspective, the apartment seemed unbelievably large, and his dad could be anywhere.
Eventually, he toddled by the spare bedroom, which was now an office. All the lights were off, causing Derrick to bypass it the first time, but now he noticed a dim white glow coming from the doorway. “Daddy! Let’s play!” he announced, reaching up to his fullest extent in order to reach the lightswitch.
“No, Derrick!” his dad scolded when the lights came on. “Dad needs dark and quiet to make his music!” The lights were turned off, and Derrick could see an incomprehensible program running on the computer.
“But I wanna PLAY!” Derrick screeched.
“Go play with mom,” his dad said, picking up his son and depositing him in the hallway.
“Mommy’s not home,” Derrick protested. “She’s at work.” But his dad ignored these words, and now closed the door on his son. Derrick again reached up and tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked. He pounded on the door with his little fists and screamed about wanting to play, but there was no response from inside.
After a few hours, his requests for play turned into requests for food: “I’m hungry, daddy! I’m hungry!” Still, he was ignored, and finally, he fell asleep there, in front of the door which barred him from his father.
—
“It was my dad,” Derrick said.
“What?”
“I thought that if I could make electronic music as good as him, that he would finally accept me, that I’d finally be worth his attention,” Derrick continued. “If my persona was eccentric enough, you know, he couldn’t keep ignoring me forever, right?” There was a pause. “Did you know that he never once came to one of my games?”
“Oh,” Rudy responded, not knowing what to say.
“I’m sorry,” Derrick said, removing the goggles from his face and reaching over to flip a switch next to his computers. Immediately, the lights and music stopped. “I’ll let you guys out.”
—
Rudy stood alone outside Derrick’s home and squinted. The sun was unbelievably bright. None of his other teammates had yet realized that their captivity had ended.
“That’s the last time I’m going to Derrick’s house for a party.”