“The Funk is the opposite of the Fake,” whispered the voice. The Kid ran his hands along the Roland Juno 106 synthesizer while images of Swayze flashed across the old television set. He danced, he punched, he surfed, he loved. The building blocks of a full human life were right in front of The Kid. How had he been so foolish? How had he ever believed that anything more than this was what he had needed for happiness? Forget fame and fortune. Forget fitting-in. What The Kid needed was inside him. And he needed to groove.