After receiving Gamagin and Paymon’s blessings…
In his drowsy dreams, Geon stood in front of a gray brick building. The year was 1953, in Tennessee.
A young white man with big eyes, dark blonde hair and an arched nose was standing around, with a guitar case on his back. He looked very nervous. Geon approached him and asked, “Mister, what are you doing here? This feels like a dream.”
The man took his hands out of his pockets and looked at Geon. Even though he loved children, he seemed uneasy.
“I’m just a truck driver who can barely make ends meet..”
Geon’s eyes lit up.
“A truck driver! That’s so cool, I would love to drive a big car too!”
The man shook his head with a bitter smile.
“That’s not a good idea, kid. It may seem cool to drive a big car, but you gotta pay the bills .”
The child tilted his head adorably.
“Well, my dad has a truck too. It doesn’t make a lot of money, but enough to give our family a comfortable life. Isn’t it the same for you?”
The man laughed and ruffled Geon’s hair.
“You’re right. Making lots of money doesn’t always make you happy. See, you taught me something today. I actually came here to look for a birthday present for my mother.”
“Are you hesitating about whether to get her something expensive? If you can’t afford it, you should get a better job.”
The man knelt down and looked Geon in the eyes.
“No, it won’t be an expensive present. I came here to record some songs for my mother with all the money I’ve saved. I want to give her an LP of the songs I’ve written.”
Geon’s eyes widened.
“Wow… Do you sing well, Mister? I want to gift my mother with some songs, as well. I think she would be much happier with that than an expensive gift from a department store.”
The man stood up, smiling.
“Yes, you’re right. You’ve calmed my worries a lot. I’m spending my own money, so I might as well just do it the way I want to, right? I’m trying to make my mother happy, not impress a big music label. Thanks, kid. That said, what’s your name?”
Geon smiled brightly at the man, who looked like he had regained his confidence.
“Geon. Kim Geon.”
“All right, Geon. If we meet downtown one day, I’ll take you to my favourite hot dog shop, okay? Thank you for today.”
Geon called him as he was about to enter the building.
“Wait! Mister! What’s your name?”
Without turning around, he said:
“Elvis. That’s the name my mother gave me, boy, Elvis Presley.”
Geon was awestruck at the sound of the familiar name.
“I can’t believe the person who sings all those songs my mom listens to is this young… Mom said he was dead, but… maybe… this is just a dream?”, he thought.
Suddenly, the air surrounding Geon swirled into a whirlwind and the small houses of rural Tennessee disappeared from his view.
He stood still and looked around.
His surroundings started changing rapidly. Old buildings collapsed and new, increasingly tall ones were built in their place. The yellow dust under his feet was replaced by asphalt and he could hear loud music playing.
Geon closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself in the amazing yet chaotic scene.
It still felt chaotic.
After what felt like an eternity, he carefully opened his eyes.
A gentle breeze was tugging at his shirt.
He took a deep breath. He was in the military base at Tampa, Florida, in 1957.
There was a man holding a camera and snapping pictures of something.
Geon sneaked up to him and looked through his camera.
There was a huge group of soldiers, dancing with their families and lovers. They were all happily eating, drinking and enjoying the music.
A black-haired man in bell-bottoms and a loose shirt was standing on the stage, singing and playing the guitar.
As Geon inched towards the stage to see the man’s face better, their eyes met.
He stopped singing and rushed off the stage with a shocked face.
Everyone looked at him intently.
Not paying any attention, he took off his guitar and tightly hugged Geon.
“Geon! You’re Geon, aren’t you? I didn’t expect to see you here!”
“Geon tilted his head in confusion.
“Ummm, I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I recognize you… Who are you?”
“Oh, you don’t recognize me with black hair, do you? Don’t you remember me? I’m Elvis! We met in front of that music agency in Tennessee four years ago.”
Geon stared at him in amazement.
“Elvis? From four years ago?”
He shifted Geon to his other arm and picked up his guitar.
“Yep. I was able to record that album for my mother thanks to the courage you gave me. That music label made me into a famous singer!”, Elvis said while patting Geon’s back. The child was still staring at him blankly.
“Let’s go to the waiting room, huh? It’s not the hot dog I promised, but there’s a lot of food from my fans in there.”
Elvis took Geon, who still didn’t understand what was going on, into the waiting room.