章節 69: The Power Hour
By noon, Crown Heights hummed with the frequency of imminent change. I sat in Rico's office – no longer just a converted storage room but a genuine business space, thanks to my future-informed investments – watching the neighborhood transform through the window. Every third car that passed seemed to be playing Jasmine's track, the bass lines bouncing off brownstone walls like musical prophecy.
"Five major labels," Rico said, spreading the messages across his desk like tarot cards. "All before lunch. This ain't normal, Marcus. Even for you."
I remembered this moment from my first life – or rather, I remembered its absence. How different things had been when we didn't know how to position the release, when we'd let the song drift into the world without understanding the currents that could carry it to greater heights.
"We wait," I said, though everything in my seventeen-year-old body screamed to jump at the first offer. "Trust me. The right deal's still coming."
Rico studied me with that look I'd grown familiar with in both timelines – part awe, part suspicion. "You got a direct line to God or something? Because your instincts..."
The door burst open and Jasmine entered, incandescent with excitement and terror. "They want me to freestyle on Hot 97. Live. Tomorrow morning." Her voice carried the tremor of someone seeing their dreams materialize too fast to process. "I can't – I mean, I don't – what if..."
In my first life, she'd frozen during a similar opportunity, the pressure crushing her nascent confidence. But this time, I was prepared.
"Sit," I said, pulling up the production software. "Listen."
I played her the battle recordings I'd secretly archived, moments when she'd destroyed every competitor with nothing but wit and rhythm. Then I layered in pieces of last night's session, showing her how the same power flowed through both styles. Twenty years of production experience let me highlight her strengths in ways my younger self never could have managed.
Watch the crown rise higher Every word a golden stair They can't touch this fire Brooklyn's burning in the air
"That's really me?" she whispered, hearing herself transformed by technology and experience I shouldn't have yet.
"That's you unbound," I said. "The you that's always been there."
Rico watched this exchange with shrewd eyes. Later, he'd tell me this was the moment he knew – not what, exactly, but that something about me defied the normal rules of time and talent. But for now, he just pulled out his phone and started making calls, setting up the media blitz I remembered from decades ahead.
My own phone buzzed with a message that made my heart skip: a notification from Beyoncé's original management team. In my first timeline, we wouldn't connect for another five years. But the future has a way of accelerating when you know which buttons to push.
"We're going to need a follow-up track," Rico said, already thinking ahead. "Something to prove this ain't a fluke."
I smiled, fingers moving to the keyboard. In my memory – or my future – I had a catalogue of hits that wouldn't be written for years. But the trick wasn't using them exactly as they'd been; it was understanding why they'd worked and recreating that magic in this new context.
"Already on it," I said, pulling up a fresh session. The instrumental I began crafting would blend what worked in 2004 with elements that wouldn't be mainstream until 2015, creating something that would sound both current and timeless.
Jasmine leaned over my shoulder, her fear forgotten as the new beat emerged. "That's... damn, Marcus. That's like nothing I've ever heard."
"That's the point," I said, adding a counter-melody that wouldn't exist in normal clubs for another decade. "We're not following trends. We're setting them."
Through the window, Brooklyn sprawled out like a kingdom waiting to be claimed. Somewhere out there, a young Beyoncé was hearing our track for the first time, the threads of destiny rewinding themselves around this new timeline I was crafting. My phone buzzed again – more opportunities, more connections, the future reshaping itself with each passing hour.
"You think this is really happening?" Jasmine asked, her voice small despite the power I knew it contained.
I thought of all the moments leading to this one – both in the timeline I'd lived and the one we were creating now. Success was never about one song, one moment, one decision. It was about understanding the pattern, the flow, the way music moved through time like water finding its level.
"This isn't happening," I said, adding the final touches to the new track. "This already happened. We're just finally getting it right."
Rico raised an eyebrow at my cryptic answer, but the beat dropped before he could question it. The future poured through the speakers, disguised as the present, and Crown Heights rose to meet it like a tide answering the moon's call.
Time becomes a doorway To the stars we dare to breach Every dream's a gateway To the heights we're meant to reach
The day stretched out before us, pregnant with possibilities I'd already lived and ones I'd never seen. Somewhere, the universe was adjusting its sheet music, preparing for a symphony only I could hear coming. But this time, we'd play it perfect.
This time, we'd make history sing.
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票