London was loud before Metallica played a single note.
Jerry, Mike, Susan, Tina and Eric stood among thousands of people at the M72 show.
For once there was no countdown.
No mysterious message.
No global crisis.
Only drums.
Bass.
Guitars.
Voice.
Light.
People.
Metal.
Jerry shouted something nobody could hear.
Susan shouted back.
Neither understood the other.
It did not matter.
When the first riff hit, the crowd moved like weather.
Tina watched faces around her.
Different ages.
Different countries.
Different lives.
The music was aggressive.
The people were not.
That contradiction interested her.
Dark imagery.
War.
Death.
Fear.
Anger.
All transformed into sound.
During "One," the screens showed images of conflict.
Tina thought about how art could enter violence without creating it.
You could write about anger without attacking someone.
Make a horror film without murdering anybody.
Play a war game without starting a war.
Thousands of people were listening peacefully to music about some of humanity's darkest subjects.
Jerry leaned toward her.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Violence."
"Of course you are."
"Not like that."
The song ended.
The stadium exploded in applause.
Tina pointed around.
"Look."
"What?"
"All this aggression."
Jerry nodded.
"And?"
"No one is fighting."
"Mostly."
"You know what I mean."
Another riff began.
She shouted over it.
"Maybe people don't need less intensity."
Jerry cupped his ear.
"What?"
"Maybe they need somewhere better to put it."
He understood enough to smile.
Later they left the stadium with ringing ears, sore voices and ridiculous merchandise.
By the way—
no one had shot a gun.
No missile launched.
No territory was captured.
No enemy needed to be defeated.
The guitars had been loud enough.
They walked through London among thousands of strangers searching for trains.
Eric looked at Tina.
"Still thinking?"
"Unfortunately."
"About?"
She looked back toward the stadium.
"Elevation doesn't mean becoming harmless."
"What does it mean?"
"Maybe choosing where the fire goes."
A guitar instead of a rifle.
A stage instead of a battlefield.
A competition instead of conquest.
A song instead of war.
Jerry looked at his shirt.
"So buying overpriced merchandise is peacebuilding."
"No."
"Worth trying."
They laughed.
The Underground entrance was crowded.
Mike complained about the queue.
Susan told him to be grateful civilization had invented trains.
Their phones remained normal.
No messages.
No AEON.
For one night humanity had created enough noise by itself.
The five students disappeared into the crowd.
Helping one another find the way home.