“Are You Hungry?” Megan is bating the crowd. “If you were a predator like an Eagle you would hunt for food. Did you see the Eagle hunting today? Yeah? He wasn’t looking for food, He was looking for you or ONE OF YOUR  BROTHERS!”
     This is how The Show started later that night. After the band got through The Predator, Megan tried to get everyone fired up about the drones. She said, “How can the Governor afford the fuel to keep his eagles in the sky? He must have more money than you and me. Why is the Governor watching you day and night - spending all that money to video your life - to pay the click heads to spy on you? He must be afraid of what you might do. Afraid of you.” Megan walked out to the edge of the stage. She said, “I’m not afraid of you!”
     Megan was good. She was the Quintessential Consummate Crowd Controller. After melting the braves with that last comment, she got the crowd to pray for Josie which brought the levels down. There was a lot of tension in the air left over from the arguments in the Mother-Ship. We weren’t talking much because we had to avoid the issues until we could go undersea, which might be days from now. As usual, this made the show very aggressive. The audience loved it when the dancers had a lot of energy. We always ran Roger Rabbit and pulled sound off the boards on nights like this. The energy and the frustration of everyone in the room was palpable. The stage fed off the people; the people wanted a dramatic change in their lives.
     We played The Prophet after the prayer. Megan did her thing to try to explain the song, “We know this song is stirring up the pit.” Cheers washed over the stage. “Everybody asks me who the Prophet is in this song. I ask them,’ Who is your prophet?’ This usually slows them down a bit. I ask them, but often they don’t answer. I say, ‘There are plenty of them you ought to have one. Let’s see,  hmm. Moses is a good one. Paul says you gotta love Jesus. Muhammad is popular. You have to love the princes of peace. Gandhi’s good. Martin Luther King believed in nonviolent protest. What do you believe in?” 
     Someone yelled out Little Richard. Megan was smooth, “Little Richard, I don’t think he’s big enough.” The crowd loved it.
     “There have been many prophets.” Megan was sitting in front of the monitors. She was at eye level. She liked looking into everyones’ eyes. “Chief Seattle is the man who said the line we sing in the song. Life is a web, that means all those people are connected by the web. All are holy in memory and experience. One with Chief Seattle, one with you, and naturally... We are part of the earth and it is part of us.” Cheers. “Now help us with this. All as One. All are One.” This was the cue to roll the audio visual file. There were two screens on the sides of the stage and Chief  Seattle’s speech scrolled across the screens from a forgotten time. The song started and Megan walked back behind the monitors and danced. 
     Some songs were choreographed and played out the same every night. This wasn’t one of those songs. The Prophet was Megan’s chance to release her tension - to do her  trip - whatever you want to call it - she got into the zone where new ideas flowed and communication with the creative force was realized. It was her dance in the spot light  and her muse was with her that night. The stage was lit in simple white light. Low clouds of dry ice smoke swirled around her. Megan’s dress and hair had glitter on them. There were cameras that took long exposure shots while Megan swirled in front of them. The images were displayed on the side screens. The shots contributed to the ethereal nature of her movements. The dancer usually moved too quickly to be see in those shots. The trails of the sparkling white light streaked and blurred depending on how Megan moved while the tireless eyes stared. The shots never seemed to be the same; they changed every night. Sometimes Megan would wear gloves or jewelry. Costume jewelry was always more brilliant than the real thing. Her appearance constantly changed. One night she looked like the daughter of a Pharaoh with severe ancient eye makeup and long straight black sparkling hair. She had the whole crew eating out of her hand. It was a beautiful show. She sang the politician’s songs, American Idolatry and Total Recall, like an Empress of the Nile. She was Dorothy from Kansas,or a Madonna wanna be depending on her mood.
     I looked around the faces in front to see whether or not Christine was dancing.  She wasn’t even in the crowd. I didn’t want to break my concentration, so I didn’t dwell on it. I didn’t see her all night. I was hoping she was there so I could introduce her to the rest of the crew. I would have to worry about that later. We had a couple more hours at least before the show would wind down. I had to concentrate on matters at hand. I was disappointed though, because she needed to learn the ropes, and that wouldn’t happen if she wasn’t on deck helping us. I didn’t have much time to show her what she needed to know to be accepted. A dancer couldn’t “make it” on talent alone. They had to be a part of the Reunion.
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