Imagine a world where LSD was the weaker cousin of a more potent hallucinogenic and mutagenic drug, one which really came alive when the music played. A world where the Sixties happened a little differently, and for a hell of a lot longer.
This is the world of Note Perfect, an alternate history story of murder, drugs and rock’n’roll.
Vincent wasn’t at all surprised by the cover of the newest Rolling Stone magazine. The main focus of the July 1980 issue had been predictable ever since August 1970. It was always going to be about the riot. At least it made a change from mugshots of McCartney, although it was a shame about his execution. On the other hand, this probably marked the start of Rolling Stone spending most of the year talking about politics – they’d worry at the Presidential election like a dog with a bone, right up until the Innaugration next year.
With a sigh, Vincent slapped down a ten-spot to buy the magazine and a coke. Taking his purchases and change, he walked the few blocks from the bus stop back to the house. It would have been nice if the busses went a little closer to home, but Vincent could understand why straight bus drivers might not want to venture too deeply into the Haight. Too many Noteheads for most people.
So no doubt Jim would have beaten him home again, but that was okay. There was no way that Jim was going to cook tonight, which was something. And the anniverary meant that he’d probably be laying off the stuff, too.
Vincent absently rubbed the place on his forearm where the drug had left its visible mark on him, and once again cursed the invisible marks. Powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men were all very well and good, but in Vincent’s experience, what they were best for was making you appreciate just how good ordinary mortal men had it.