He knew the exact time it was to take place.
He’d studied the when
and where for years and dreamed that
it could be him; dreamed that he’d be the one getting on the train. Yet here
was the irony of it all, it was his job to stop these things happening. He was
a Guardian after all, a trusted position that his father and his father before
him had held. All the way back to his great, great grandmother – she had been
the first Guardian in the family – Good-Elizabeth she’d been known as, the
scourge of the criminal classes.
Hadn’t it been Good-Elizabeth who tracked down and
caught one of the time-squeezers when they’d tried to bump off that female
Prime Minister? She’d also caught that gang who had been smuggling people to
Golgotha to witness the Crucifixion. Sure there had been test trips to Calvary
but no one – and that meant NO ONE – was allowed to stand on even an insect or
the whole time cycle would be dealt a massive blow.
And now there was him: contemplating something that would
have him arrested for life. Something that would bring shame on the family and
may even upset the whole time ripple across the Universe - yet it was all he
could think about. Day and night until it had become an unhealthy and
destructive obsession.
He was going to take his chances as a time-squeezer - to
hell with the consequences. Perhaps there was a universe out there where he
really was the original one who caught the train that day.
He’d illegally visited the station on several occasions watching
the two boys make their moves: as they came together, as they started the first conversation,
and then as they boarded the train.
He had visited an old record shop in Mid-town and had
bought two excellent condition copies of Rockin’
at the Hops by Chuck Berry, on Chess Records and The Best of Muddy Waters. He’d taken classes to sound exactly like
someone who lived in that area in 1961. All he had to do was push himself (known
as squeezing) into the time fraction,
distract one boy and then pretend to be him.
At least that’s the way it should have gone - except it
didn’t.
All he had wanted to do was to meet with Keith Richards
on Dartford station on that fateful day when he and Mick Jagger hook up for the
first time. His plan was that Mick would never get to meet Keith, instead he,
Kevin, would be the one to get on the train and the world would soon get to
know the remarkable Rolling Stones and their songwriter team of Keith Richards
and Kevin Bailey.
So how come Kevin is looking out the window of the train watching Keith standing on the platform talking to some unknown guy? Worse
still, Kevin is on the train staring straight at Mick Jagger and both have the
same albums under their arms.
“My name’s Mick....” he says. “And you are..?”
“Kevin,” he says. “Kevin
Bailey".
thoughtcontrol ltd
No comments:
Post a Comment