“Ah,” Kris said. “Nineteen-eighty…something. I can look up tour dates.” He honestly couldn’t remember. But he must have records somewhere. Reggie might know. “And yes? If you think it’d be useful. How would that—what do you want me to do?”
“Firsthand interviews,” Bill said dreamily, “primary-source impressions, obviously you’re not an unbiased account but you were there, and you had access to counter-cultural popular-media responses to institutions of authority and Foucauldian systems of surveillance and rebellion…”
Kris considered the merits of panicking. Justin’s hand was on his arm. He wanted the rest of his beer. “If you say so…”
“Dad,” Justin said, “I’ll co-author it with you if you’ll stop scaring him. Especially if you want it to be any kind of accessible to a general-public audi
