Time Travel in Rock: 1984 by Tim C. Taylor EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Tim C. Taylor
- Language: English
- Genre: Alternative History
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3.2 MB
- Price: Free
May 14, 1976. Birmingham, England.
“Birm-ing-ham! If you truly believe in rock ‘n’ roll, I want you to… shout
it out loud!”
The crowd erupted in excitement as the twin guitar attack launched the
next song. The agent joined in by pumping his fist into a thick atmosphere
infused with sweat, testosterone, and the indomitable spirit of rock ‘n’ roll.
His ill-fitting denim jacket, adorned with band patches, rode up awkwardly
over his shoulder. But that was all right. That was by design, because so did
everyone else’s.
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Suddenly, he whipped his head around and looked up with concern at the
underside of the circle area, which was shuddering alarmingly under the
stomping feet. For a moment, his eyes blanked. Anyone in the know would
guess that he was accessing his mission memory, checking for any
historical records of the circle collapsing.
This was the Birmingham Odeon. Architecturally, it was an underground
concrete bunker. Culturally, it was a single-screen cinema frequently
converted to a sweat-drenched noise cavern. Its capacity was only about
2000, but it felt much larger to me. Even so, it was tiny considering this was
the premier concert venue of England’s second city.
My reconnaissance outside had left me with an impression of the city’s
strangeness. Step away from the center, and Brum – as the locals mumbled
their city’s name – was pockmarked with bomb sites from a war that had
ended thirty years earlier. Between war damage and redevelopment, entire
city blocks had been leveled, to produce piles of brick rubble that left
behind naked pubs standing alone like lonely dark teeth in a shattered
mouth.
Birmingham was hesitating on the cusp of modernity but not quite ready
to meet its future. I decided the Birmingham Odeon was the perfect symbol
of the city at this time. A telling time detail as we called it in the trade.
My mind was drifting again, but embedded in the surging crowd, the
agent I was watching maintained his professional focus. Despite the
extreme rock ‘n’ roll noise levels, he heard an instruction in his hidden
earpiece and sprang into action, hopping over the backs of unoccupied
seating on his way to the stage.
On the left side of the theatre, the agent’s boss was also advancing
toward the stage, but instead of seat leaping, she was pushing through an
aisle. Unlike the junior agent who was getting jostled, the crowd parted for
his boss as befitted her superior status in this sub-community, a cultural role
detailed in the mission briefing notes as ‘rock chick’.
Her eyes were black pools of eye shadow, her lips a glossy blood red.
She had big hair, big leather jacket, big boots — everything about her was
big and bold except her denim skirt, which was aggressively tiny.
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