'Slim' Sam Morrows was far from New York when The Bomb struck. On November 8th, 2006, in fact, he was in Little Rock, Arkansas, playing a gig at a blues venue. It was not long after the explosion, and there was the stirrings of pandemonium. His audience -granted, it was just an exceptionally large and well-playing bar- turned from the stage to the television sets that were reporting hundreds of thousands dead in the city that never sleeps. For a blues musician, this only seemed to echo his somber song, and he kept right on playing, although he couldn't get the idea out of his mind. Neither could the patrons of the bar, who drank themselves silly and either spectated on the incident, or tried altogether to push it to the backs of their minds.
Slim loved the city, although he was born a country boy to a country father in a country shack. He was raised in the deep throes of the South: a Mississippi man, through and through. His voice carries the nature, but his mind and spirit sure don't. In his first trip to Chicago when he was hardly twenty years of age, he got consumed in the lights and sounds and, more specifically, the shadows. Sam Morrows had and still has an unhealthy penchancy for drugs and gambling, and has in more than one occasion found himself deep in a mire of debt and trouble. Never did it silence his powerful voice, though, and he's done a good deal of travelling and singing since then, not to mention gambling and drugging. He always retained his jovial, deflective attitude, and had a glib enough tongue to get himself into and out of most encounters. He always kept a .38 special revolver close to his breast for the stickiest of situations, and was a proud shot at it, having grown up shooting at opossums and coons as a kid.
For the most part, Slim avoided politics and any goings-on that didn't affect him directly, and being that most of his family still lived in the Mississippi delta, he didn't worry much when the world about him began to fall apart. Then the reports of the 'Evolved' began surfacing, bringing into question anyone anywhere and soliciting violence and dischord across the entire globe. Nuclear war became more threatening to the populace outside of New York. Shit didn't only hit the fan -it was being blown all over the place, spreading out like birdshot to foul up everything, everywhere. The freak weather rode in like the devil on a big black stallion, killing just as many as the Bomb had, and striking a little more close to home. Tornadoes ravaged the delta and neighboring states where Slim's family still resided; it seemed the end of times was upon us.
Conflicting reports and revelations were abound, but after a while the powers that be seemed to have gotten things under control. They were going to enforce peace (yeah, brilliant idea there) and their legislation to keep all people safe under their domain. Slim kept right on singing and playing. His father's and his grandfather's songs now seemed even more appropriate. Soon enough, he felt it safe to start 'touring' again (although that really just meant playing his box and partying relentlessly in another city), and made an effort to get registered. After all, he was just a normal mundane person, not 'evolved' in any way. That's what he thought.
Slim was in the windy city at the time, and went down to the police department to submit himself to this new test. Get a card, and carry it with you, or you're life will be hell, everyone told him. So why the hell not. Imagine his shock and awe when the SLC test came back denoting him as Evolved. He debated this for a while, but the test was accredited, and it never lied. Unmanifested, they told him, and he'd have to live with it. Yeah, okay, whatever. Tier 0 - Unmanifested: didn't mean much to him, though he was a bit curious as to the potential. He certainly wasn't a terrorist or serial killer or any of that other jargon on the news.
Slim left Chicago after dealing with some rather touchy matters, and went on the road to meet a possible music partner. A friend had told him about this Howlin' Horace that lived in Brooklyn, and how the two of them could make a real break together. So, having his card and all that business taken care of and hearing that the situation -and insurgency- was being handled, he set of for New York without much besides his trusted .38, better-trusted guitar, the clothes on his back, and a pocketful of cash. Oh yeah, and that card that said 'Unmanifested'. Almost immediately upon getting to the city, he was stranded. The Company coup de tat, the closing of the exits and entrances to the city -it went from bad to worse. So now, with no steady home or employment and nothing but his guitar and clothes on his back, Slim Sam Morrows found himself locked within the light and shadow of New York, and that Howlin' Horace was nowhere to be found.