Slider knew that, and he liked it, the pressure made everything else go away, the way he thought of it was that it exploded time. Slider liked being at the center of an explosion of time, he liked the feeling of the history going away from him in all directions, in little pieces, who cares where; he lived for the expansion he felt when his concentration was complete. Expansion and, at the same time contraction. It was like nothing else in his life, it was the thing he lived for. Everything got small except one thing got big. It wasn't something he could put into words, it wasn't something he could ever explain, and nothing in his appearance or his demeanor would give a clue to the depth of his devotion to it, to the passion he felt; or to the precision of his devotion, but it was always evident in the tapes he made, it was there and if you had an ear you just knew it.

Dietz studied Slider's face, waiting until he was ready. Slider adjusted his headphones, checked the board again and nodded. Dietz was ready. Slider was ready. The song they wanted to lay down tonight; the guitar and vocals -- they had the drums and keyboard tracks from Chicago -- was a new one: Alice.

Dietz couldn't keep his leg still, his heel was throbbing and it was time. The guitar he was playing was an old black Rickenbacker, beat to shit. There was no pickguard on it and the finish was gone below the strings where Dietz's pick had worn through the paint and into the wood. His street machine.

Slider nodded and Dietz closed his eyes.

The song started gentle, soft chords, sweet-but-not-sweet, a little bit of finger picking, a little bit of strumming. The power chords were later. They would wait.

At first Dietz played the strings of his guitar like they were honeysuckle vines, his thick fingers caressed them, nursing the tones out of them, chasing melodies that forked and sprang like fine arteries. Slider concentrated on his display, making minute adjustments in the inputs as the chord changes came around. The second time through Dietz added another voice to the music, a deeper sound. If the introduction was honeysuckle, he was adding a touch of cider, hard cider. Spider looked up from his console briefly, Dietz's eyes were still closed, and the fingers of his left hand remorselessly gripped his guitar, his right hand was teasing at it with a regular motion, regular but unpredictable, sometimes moving in circles, sometimes beating on all six strings, sometimes not seeming to move at all. Honeysuckle. Cider. Maple syrup. Vinegar.

He started to sing, his voice tired but strong, rasping and raw...

moonlight on sea foam
moonlight on the breakers
dancing on the water
whispering in the wind

the music you gave me
music we made
the sun was you
you were my oxygen

goodbye means I'll have you forever
just inside
goodbye means you'll always be here
a memory

but tonight I'm Alice
breathing salt water
the breakers are keeping me down
and the tide is taking me under

There's moonlight on the water tonight
Moonlight in my eyes
under the foam
of good bye

I'm Alice
In the moonlight
the oxygen's gone
I'm Alice alone in the night

I'm Alice
swimming alone
in this ocean
this ocean of tears

moonlight on sea foam
moonlight on the breakers
white moonlight on the water
seen from below

It was Slider's turn to close his eyes. The little blue lights on the board kept on blinking. And the power chords came in, fierce and relentless, slamming through like waves in a storm, holding, but not quite hiding the descending melody. And if the sound was honeysuckle and vinegar before, now it was pure heroin.



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