“We met at this rave up in Kensington,” he said as he stared into the past. “Me and Gabe were friends, and Phillip and Steven were friends, and when the four of us got under those red and purple lights in that funky little warehouse, the first thing we noticed was that we all kinda looked alike. Same hair, same eyes, same height, more or less. We all liked music, too. After a while, we started messing around with a little garage band. We stunk, but if we smoked enough weed, we thought we sounded pretty good. It was just something to do, ya know? Something to pass the time.

“In real life, Steven and Phillip had their college classes. Me and Gabe had jobs at a little market in Old City. We were just holding on, making enough to pay our rent, because we all figured we’d make it doing something else one day.

“After a while, the band thing got a little more serious. We learned to play a song or two, and every now and then, we’d play a rave. There were always drugs or girls or something else to keep us playing. It damn sure wasn’t the money, because we almost never got paid, and we were always stoned out of our minds. That’s how we met the guy.”

Coletti was about to ask a question, but he didn’t need to, because James White was caught up in memories he needed to purge.

“We’d just finished a set at this party,” he said. “The DJ was playing techno and the lights were flashing, and up walks this guy dressed in all black. He tells us he’s been watching us forever, and says we have a bigger purpose than we know. It was kind of scary, now that I think about it, but it was what we wanted to hear, so we listened.”

“What did the guy look like?” Coletti asked.

“He was thin, about five nine. Blond with blue eyes, average face. Crazy as it sounds, I don’t ever remember getting a really good look at him. He always had on that hat.”

“About how old do you think he was?” Coletti said.

“I’d say he was in his forties, maybe younger. It was hard to tell.”

“What else do you remember about him?”

“I remember what happened at the end of that party,” he said, puffing the cigarette and wincing as the withdrawal took its toll. “He led us into a back room and handed us these little plastic bags. He told us if we wanted to see our lives the way they were supposed to be, we could open up the bags and snort what was inside, but if we didn’t want to see our destiny, we could always walk away.”