"Hell no. I may not know what the book is on this, but judging from the media you've collected for me to play with, we're either going to torch a whole lot of people's worlds tonight, or they're going to yank the feeds and kill power in the house to keep you quiet. Either way, I'd hate to miss it."
"Good. I don't think anything I wrote would have the same effect if I didn't have your touch on the media to back it up. Do you want to scan the lyrics and my notes for the talk-throughs?"
"Surprise me. I know what media's in the mix. Besides, I think it'll be more powerful if there's more spontaneity, even if I flub some of the cues. In fact--."
"Evers Welch!" Angus McClaran's scratchy bellow was punctuated by the crash of the door slamming open. Flanking the venue's manager were Ravi, the chief theater-cast engineer, and Earl, the performance bond company's annoying site manager. "There's a bucketload of money riding on this concert of yours," McClaran said tightly, "and I just learned that your entire band has bailed on you. What the Sam Hill is going on here?"
Evers rose to face them. "You know me, Angus," he soothed. "I came through for you last time, even with all the technical problems we had."
"Bull! The only reason that performance wasn't a total disaster was the fact that the recording crew ran a multi-angle shoot. We lost a bundle on refunds that night. It wasn't you that came through, Welch, it was your editor. And it took the royalties on media sales to fill that financial crater you dug."
"I assure you, that's not going to happen this time. The tech we're using is more stable than it was then, and we've got hot backups of everything, including power for the equipment, should it come to that. Now, if you'll all get on with your own business, and let us finish preparing for the show"?"
"Since you've brought it up," the engineer said, pushing past McClaran, "what is the focus of your story tonight? I've heard rumors that you're not exactly honoring this city's dead. And that's not even touching on the political firestorm you could set off by maligning the patriots who risked their lives to comb through the wreckage of those buildings."
"All right, Ravi," Greta cut in forcefully. "I've had about as much that that guff as I can stand. I've been through all the media in tonight's show, and there's not so much as a whiff of taint against a single person involved in the cleanup. Come to that, if you know anything at all about Evers' work, you know full well that he researches everything exhaustively. The people he profiles in these song cycles are real human beings. Nothing's fabricated. Now get out of here, all of you. We've got a lot of prep to go over, and not a lot of time to do it. Scoot!"
"Not. So. Fast." This time it was the bond manager. "None of you seem to grasp the value of what's at risk here."
McClaran bared his teeth at his supposed ally. "Something you've been keeping from me, Earl?"
"Nothing that shouldn't be obvious to anyone who hasn't been living under a rock." His raised finger twitched scant inches from McClaran's nose.
"Well, not everyone has your gift, Earl, so why don't you do us all a favor and just get it off your chest."
"Okay," he said, turning his attention back to the performers. "The promos for your concert made it painfully obvious that you're planning to dance on a lot graves tonight. That's not a very wise thing to do. That building site is tantamount to holy ground now. Desecrating it will bring down the wrath of forces far more powerful than mere governments can muster."
"Oh, please!" Greta turned away.
"Hear me out!" he thundered. "What happened that day changed everything! It was the galvanizing shock that brought this nation together against a common enemy. Policies changed overnight. Government agencies were reorganized. The armed forces were mobilized for action, and this country led the world into battle. It was a moral imperative underwritten by the economic strength of the free market, against a shadowy force that refuses to identify itself with any one nation."
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