The rainbow array of lights seizured around the ceiling. Bodies magnetized by sweat and spiced cologne gyrated with movements that would clench the fists of their fathers'. Feet didn't move due to the traps of sticky puddles that splashed from the rims of fruity mixed drinks. Hips and hands did all the moving, they did all the talking. Gazes were driven by the prospect of sex and body language was the only form of communication. Nobody spoke with words because it would have been too sloppy to understand from the liquor and the deafening bass frequencies spit out by the speakers. Everybody was drowning in alcohol.
Luke Bright stood cemented to the floor. Ten minutes ago he was molded with a girl, working his drunken charm on her drunken ears. He thought her name was Monica, it was Carey. Now the gyrating mass stayed from his blank stares towards the flashing lights, leaving him with the only private place in the building. A foot and a half radius of space between him and the mob of sex was a separate universe going through an instantaneous evolution. His desire for quick gratification was done.
He didn't know how or why, but Luke's brain was holding a shovel, taking up the earth to bury his old ways that he was not proud to have done. Luke had tried to hide his past deeds in the farthest regions of his brain, but had failed time and time again. The memories always resurfaced, no matter how much dirt he piled on top, his past would eventually crawl out and find him again. This was the last hole his brain would ever dig.
Luke's past had always came after him like a monster tearing apart everything he started to build. Relationships and life goals never went anywhere promising. Every flame he ignited was blown out with suffocating effectiveness. Now his brain had the monster in the grave, but before he filled the dirt back into the hole he raised the shovel into the air with both hands. Muscles and gravity drove the metal tip into the throat of the monster. Two inches of neck were gone and the shovel was removed. Another strike and three more inches were torn. Two more gone, three more gone and only four inches of skin and vertebrae and veins held the head to the monster. The shovel raised towards the sky and them met with the ground, passing through the last four inches of his past. The crowded space in Luke's head was cleared. His brain had space to move around, space to think. There wasn't a trace of past to piece together as clues. With the disappearance of the victim, so did the suspect and the act fade into nothingness. It is impossible to tell about Luke's history because even he became unaware of it. The past that haunted him had been destroyed, decimated to leave only an empty space with no residue of what had been there before.
This evolution happened as the mob continued to gyrate, clueless that Darwin's theory was taking place inside a brain standing in their center.