Imagine a triangle. Imagine you are the triangle.
Your sides are of equal length. Your three 60º internal angles are congruent to each other. You are regular in every way. Your only affliction a terrible conformity.
One day you are exposed to something incongruous, something incredulous, something so magnificently beyond the Pale it shatters and melts the very frame by which you exist – music.
Immediately your once dependable rigidity begins to deteriorate. No longer compliant with the geometric regulations of triangular society, you begin stretching, wildly unfolding like a schematic in a hurricane until you’re left slack and limp.
Disillusioned by your disgusting display of non-uniformity, you resist the transformation. But the power of the music is too strong. Your sides begin to recoil from their loosened positions and take form.
Misshapen, disfigured, you realise that now two of your sides are longer than the other. You have become an isosceles triangle. You feel disgrace. You feel threatened. You want more. You slut.
In a thrilling display of geometric disobedience your sides begin to crackle and distort again. Acute becomes obtuse and the scaffolding of your form morphs once more. Your body begins to slouch into sickening asymmetry. You have become a scalene triangle.
Bent, torn and oblique, with no memory of the laws of conventional trigonometry, you begin to wonder, why be a conventional shape at all?
You let the music unhinge your angles and vertices until you collapse into a hashed collection of jagged lines. You’ve lost all form. You’re not a triangle at all. You are an amorphous mass, a rudimentary object of abstraction. But it’s not enough.
Malcontent with your concrete form and determined to transcend convention and become one in blissful unity with an abstract cosmos, you allow the music to vibrate the very fibres of your being. Your particles shake and shift until there’s nothing left. You have disappeared. You are not a triangle. You are not matter at all.
Freed from chains intangible but no less restrictive than the strongest steel, you have no requirement for mandates and decrees. You forsake your council. You forsake mathematics. You forsake science. You have destroyed the parameters by which you used to live. You are no longer an embarrassing paragon. In becoming nothing you have become everything.
In 25 minutes you have been crushed and distorted into the ethereal. You have learned the value of the abstract. You are not a triangle. You are not a shape. You’re no more than a wisp in the air, a whisper in the wind, a bastard.
You were just exposed to You Slut!’s Medium Bastard
and you will never be the same again.