It was the last night of the tour. Tabitha Thrasher was now several years into a greatly admired career, maybe not a lot of mainstream success to her credit, but a steady and fiercely loyal following that stayed with her every step of the way. It was exactly that kind of audience she had just played, who had lost themselves in her singing, in the blaring sounds of the guitars and drums, which still reverberated in her own ears as she sat down backstage, with loud calls for one more encore, even though she'd already done two. She almost got up, and then her phone beeped, and it was her agent. Normally the end of the tour was a time to relax for a while from everything, even her agent, all the glorious nonsense that constituted success. She almost didn't answer, but decided she might as well. It had been a good tour, a great one. Maybe he was just calling to congratulate her.
"Tab, it's the end of the world," he said in greeting.
"And I feel fine, I know," she replied offhand.
"No, seriously, that's your theme for the next album."
"I thought we were going with The Hardcore Diaries?"
"The State of Fear tour got me thinking. Zero History. We have to capitalize."
"By going backward?"
"Anyone can look forward. It's the true visionaries go look beyond that. Just listen to me. Zero History. In a couple months, you'll thank me, like you always do."
"Normally I block your calls."
"Very funny. That's why they love you."
"They love me 'cause I rock."
"Just think about it, okay?"
It was immediately after that call that Tab answered the second one from her agent, which was an even more unlikely occurrence than the one time.
"We're going with that one. No questions. I'll have more info later."