We've Got The Beat

It's all about rhythm.
Everything.
The beat of your heart. The function-cycle of life.
From the slow dance of stars through the void to the spin and tumble of atoms.
A guy named Higgs hypothesized the existence of a backbeat even deeper than the atomic mosh pit. Some folks in Switzerland found it, and now still other guys postulate a still deeper rhythm.
Someone will find that, too.
I wonder if anyone is looking for the harmony and melody?
If they are, is anyone working to bring it all together?
Not the skat/improvised jazz of religion, but a rational, measured song that we'll probably find we already know by heart. We just had to be reminded.
Something beyond, or perhaps beneath, a unified field theory.
I don't know.
What I do know is that even if you can't dance,that rhythm is part of you, and you're part of it.
It's in the beat of you heart, the drum of your fingers on the desktop, the tap of your foot.
It's all about rhythm.

it's spontaneous, it's nonsensical, it's all me!

"Good grief, Cally- where did you find that beast?"

"He attacked me."

The smaller woman recoiled in surprise.

"Seriously?! When did this happen?!"

"Last night. I had just finished dinner, and I heard a growl from the shadows. You should have seen it, Terce- he was perfectly positioned! Downwind, behind a steam grate to hide the heat and scent of his body; he wasn't hiding- he was hunting!"

"That's... really scary, Callista. An ally cur hunting... I've never heard of it. Do you really mean to train him?"

"Absolutely! Look at the magnificent creature- he's malnourished, but fighting-lean, and those scars! If this wasn't a pit-fighting animal, he was something worse!"

The tall, slender woman nodded decisively.

"I can rehabilitate him, Tercia. He was something special."

Tercia shook her head doubtfully.

"I don't know, Cally- there might not be anything but survival left in there."

Callista shook her own head in reply.

"I believe survival instinct buries personality- not destroys it."

"Well, you'd know best, " the smaller woman shrugged.

"You've turned plenty of strays into fine pets, after all... but still- a predator? It seems like a long shot."

Callista's grin was predatory in its own right.

"All the more worth the effort," she purred.

"Oh, ho- you intend to keep this one for yourself!"

Callista shrugged slender shoulders.

"And why not?" she asked, a little defensively. "I've always given my... work... as gifts- why shouldn't I keep one for myself?"

The predatory smile crept  back in.

"Besides- don't you think he'd be perfect for me?"

Tercia's curls swung in a bewildered head-shake.

"You mean he's bound to be insane?" she laughed.

"No- I can see it," the smaller woman conceded. "If anyone would keep a killer on a leash, it'd be you."

Callista's smile remained.

"Oh, he won't need a leash when I'm finished."

Tercia watched the hard, scarred man in the observation room twitch in his sleep for a moment.

"Insane", she repeated under her breath.