Well. Self-respect wasn't that great a cost was it? All he had to do was turn his back on the inspiration that had consumed him for the past year, and disappoint every last person in the hall and in all those darkened cinemas. All he had to do was not perform the story they'd all paid to hear.
They'd forgive him, wouldn't they? Besides, he could always fall back on one of his earlier song cycles, maybe the one about the tech who volunteered to help shut down reactor 4 at the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant. They'd enjoy that one, wouldn't they? Sure they would. But would he? Could he live with himself if he didn't go through with it?
Evers swore a silent oath to Euterpe for cursing him with inspiration and started across the street. He slowed in front of a taxi when he saw a young woman in a yellow jacket with a grin on her face and a spring in her step just stop cold. The people just behind her wavered briefly, but then veered left and right, leading the swarm of over-busy people to flow around her like she was a sunny boulder in a concrete streambed. The slender human boulder was clearly wrapped up in whatever had flooded her soul, because the fingers of her right hand danced over an imaginary keyboard. When the pattern of notes sounding in his head as she touched the invisible ivories settled on a key, he smiled in recognition -- the melody she played was one of his.
The sudden juxtaposition between the vast, distributed audience he was about to face and this unintentionally intimate expression of the bond that one anonymous woman had with his music brought him back to the friendly confines of the house concerts he so missed playing at. It all seemed like another world now, a reality that fame had cheated him out of. Well, after tonight, he might be lucky to even play one of those again. The Muse of his craft, it would seem, was steadfast in her refusal to offer him respite from agonizing over this decision.
When he reached the sidewalk, he turned and joined the flow of pedestrians heading towards the entranced woman. But instead of continuing past her, he stopped a respectful distance away and smiled. "Thank you," he said. "I'd thought I'd lost my way."
She looked at him quizzically, and then brightened to laughter when she recognized his face. She mouthed his name, and then said, "Thank me? For what?"
He glanced down at her hand. "For playing that melody just now. Someone once told me that the purest form of music is the kind that dwells in your heart. Anyway, I'd like to find out how you react to tonight's show. My limo will be waiting by the back door after the concert. Tell the driver I said you helped me with my stage fright."
"Stage fright? You? I don't understand."
"Private joke. But really, I do want to chat more with you later. Will you wait for me?"
She nodded. "Of course. And good luck" with tonight's show, I mean."
Fired with renewed purpose, he continued on towards the musician's entrance. The usual assortment of fans, publicity hounds, staff and security littered his path to the green room, but he was too wrapped up in the pros and cons to pay them much mind. What did manage to break his funk was the sound of muffled voices from inside that room, one of which sounded angry.
The door flew open just as he was reaching for the handle. Craig, his bass man, sneered at him. "You're nuts, Evers," he spat. "How long have I been with you now? Don't you freakin' think you can trust me yet? How the hell do you think we're going to play this gig like professionals if you can't be bothered to let me know what the song cycle's even about. Man, you can go out there and make a fool of yourself if you want, but I'm not going to have anything to do with it. I quit!"
Before Evers had a chance to respond, Greta appeared in the doorway, wearing the motion-capture getup she used to manipulate the media during the performance. "You know, I really don't blame him. What's with all the secrecy, anyway?"
Evers glanced over his shoulder at the gathering crowd. From the sound of it, they were already exchanging rumors about what might have caused Craig's sudden exit. "Let's" talk inside," he said as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Where's everyone else?"
"Most of them are no-shows," Greta said as she plopped into a chair. "Kendrik sent a rude tweet. I think you're going to be flying solo on this one."
He paled. "You're not backing out, too, are you?"
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