I had my second medical checkup since the toxic1 event. No startling numbers on the printout. This death was still toodeep to be glimpsed. My doctor, Sundar Chakravarty, asked me about the sudden flurry of checkups. In the past I'dalways been afraid to know.
1 told him I was still afraid. He smiled broadly, waiting for the punch line. I shook his hand and headed out the door.
On the way home I drove down Elm intending to make a quick stop at the supermarket. The street was full ofemergency vehicles. Farther down I saw bodies scattered2 about. A man with an armband blew a. whistle at me andstepped in front of my car. I glimpsed other men in Mylex suits. Stretcher-bearers ran across the street. When theman with the whistle drew closer, I was able to make out the letters on his armband: SIMUVAC.
"Back it out," he said. "Street's closed.""Are you people sure you're ready for a simulation? You may want to wait for one more massive spill. Get yourtiming down.""Move it out, get it out. You're in the exposure swath.""What's that mean?""It means you're dead," he told me.
I backed out of the street and parked the car. Then I walked slowly back down Elm, trying to look as though Ibelonged. I kept close to storefronts, mingled3 with technicians and marshals, with uniformed personnel. There werebuses, police cars, ambulettes. People with electronic equipment appeared to be trying to detect radiation or toxicfallout. In time I approached the volunteer victims. There were twenty or so, prone4, supine, draped over curbstones,sitting in the street with woozy looks.
I was startled to see my daughter among them. She lay in the middle of the street, on her back, one arm flung out, herhead tilted5 the other way. I could hardly bear to look. Is this how she thinks of herself at the age of nine—already avictim, trying to polish her skills? How natural she looked, how deeply imbued6 with the idea of a sweeping7 disaster.
Is this the future she envisions?
I walked over there and squatted8 down.
"Steffie? Is that you?"She opened her eyes.
"You're not supposed to be here unless you're a victim," she said.
"I just want to be sure you're okay.""I'll get in trouble if they see you.""It's cold. You'll get sick. Does Baba know you're here?""I signed up in school an hour ago.""They at least should hand out blankets," I said.
She closed her eyes. I spoke9 to her a while longer but she wouldn't answer. There was no trace of irritation10 ordismissal in her silence. Just conscientiousness11. She had a history of being devout12 in her victimhood.
I went back to the sidewalk. A man's amplified13 voice boomed across the street from somewhere inside thesupermarket.
"I want to welcome all of you on behalf of Advanced Disaster Management, a private consulting firm that conceivesand operates simulated evacuations. We are interfacing14 with twenty-two state bodies in carrying out this advanceddisaster drill. The first, I trust, of many. The more we rehearse disaster, the safer we'll be from the real thing. Lifeseems to work that way, doesn't it? You take your umbrella to the office seventeen straight days, not a drop of rain.
The first day you leave it at home, record-breaking downpour. Never fails, does it? This is the mechanism15 we hope toemploy, among others. O-right, on to business. When the siren sounds three long blasts, thousands of hand-pickedevacuees will leave their homes and places of employment, get into their vehicles and head for well-equippedemergency shelters. Traffic directors will race to their computerized stations. Updated instructions will be issued onthe SIMUVAC broadcast system. Air-sampling people will deploy16 along the cloud exposure swath. Dairy samplerswill test milk and randomized foodstuffs17 over the next three days along the ingestion swath. We are not simulating aparticular spillage today. This is an all-purpose leak or spill. It could be radioactive steam, chemical cloudlets, a hazeof unknown origin. The important thing is movement. Get those people out of the swath. We learned a lot during thenight of the billowing cloud. But there is no substitute for a planned simulation. If reality intrudes19 in the form of a carcrash or a victim falling off a stretcher, it is important to remember that we are not here to mend broken bones or putout real fires. We are here to simulate. Interruptions can cost lives in a real emergency. If we learn to work aroundinterruptions now, we'll be able to work around them later when it counts. O-right. When the siren sounds twomelancholy wails21, street captains will make house-to-house searches for those who may have been inadvertently leftbehind. Birds, goldfish, elderly people, handicapped people, invalids22, shut-ins, whatever. Five minutes, victims. Allyou rescue personnel, remember this is not a blast simulation. Your victims are overcome but not traumatized. Saveyour tender loving care for the nuclear fireball in June. We're at four minutes and counting. Victims, go limp. Andremember you're not here to scream or thrash about. We like a low-profile victim. This isn't New York or L.A. Softmoans will suffice."I decided24 I didn't want to watch. I went back to the car and headed home. The sirens emitted the first three blasts as Ipulled up in front of the house. Heinrich was sitting on the front steps, wearing a reflector vest and his camouflagecap. With him was an older boy. He had a powerful compact body of uncertain pigmentation. No one on our streetseemed to be evacuating26. Heinrich consulted a clipboard.
"What's going on?""I'm a street captain," he said.
"Did you know Steffie was a victim?""She said she might be.""Why didn't you tell me?""So they pick her up and put her in an ambulance. What's the problem?""I don't know what the problem is.""If she wants to do it, she should do it.""She seems so well-adjusted to the role.""It could save her life someday," he said.
"How can pretending to be injured or dead save a person's life?""If she does it now, she might not have to do it later. The more you practice something, the less likely it is to actuallyhappen."'That's what the consultant27 said.""It's a gimmick28 but it works.""Who's this?""This is Orest Mercator. He's going to help me check for leftovers29.""You're the one who wants to sit in a cage full of deadly snakes. Can you tell me why?""Because I'm going for the record," Orest said.
"Why would you want to get killed going for a record?""What killed? Who said anything about killed?""You'll be surrounded by rare and deadly reptiles30.""They're the best at what they do. I want to be the best at what I do.""What do you do?""I sit in a cage for sixty-seven days. That's what it takes to break the record.""Do you understand that you are risking death for a couple of lines in a paperback31 book?"He looked searchingly at Heinrich, obviously holding the boy responsible for this idiotic32 line of questioning.
"They will bite you," I went on.
"They won't bite me.""How do you know?""Because I know.""These are real snakes, Orest. One bite, that's it.""One bite if they bite. But they won't bite.""They are real. You are real. People get bitten all the time. The venom33 is deadly.""People get bitten. But I won't."I found myself saying, "You will, you will. These snakes don't know you find death inconceivable. They don't knowyou're young and strong and you think death applies to everyone but you. They will bite and you will die."I paused, shamed by the passion of my argument. I was surprised to see him look at me with a certain interest, acertain grudging34 respect. Perhaps the unbecoming force of my outburst brought home to him the gravity of his task,filled him with intimations of an unwieldy fate.
'They want to bite, they bite," he said. "At least I go right away. These snakes are the best, the quickest. A puff35 adderbites me, I die in seconds.""What's your hurry? You're nineteen years old. You'll find hundreds of ways to die that are better than snakes."What kind of name is Orest? I studied his features. He might have been Hispanic, Middle Eastern, Central Asian, adark-skinned Eastern European, a light-skinned black. Did he have an accent? I wasn't sure. Was he a Samoan, anative North American, a Sephardic Jew? It was getting hard to know what you couldn't say to people.
He said to me, "How many pounds can you bench-press?""I don't know. Not very many.""Did you ever punch somebody in the face?""Maybe a glancing blow, once, a long time ago.""I'm looking to punch somebody in the face. Bare-fisted. Hard as I can. To find out what it feels like."Heinrich grinned like a stool pigeon in the movies. The siren began to sound—two melancholy20 blasts. I went insideas the two boys checked the clipboard for house numbers. Babette was in the kitchen giving Wilder some lunch.
"He's wearing a reflector vest," I said.
"It's in case there's haze18, he won't get hit by fleeing vehicles.""I don't think anyone's bothered to flee. How do you feel?""Better," she said.
"So do I.""I think it's being with Wilder that picks me up.""I know what you mean. I always feel good when I'm with Wilder. Is it because pleasures don't cling to him? He isselfish without being grasping, selfish in a totally unbounded and natural way. There's something wonderful aboutthe way he drops one thing, grabs for another. I get annoyed when the other kids don't fully36 appreciate specialmoments or occasions. They let things slide away that should be kept and savored37. But when Wilder does it, I see thespirit of genius at work.""That may be true but there's something else about him that gives me a lift. Something bigger, grander, that I can'tquite put my finger on.""Remind me to ask Murray," I said.
She spooned soup into the child's mouth, creating facial expressions for him to mimic38 and saying, "Yes yes yes yesyes yes yes.""One thing I have to ask. Where is the Dylar?""Forget it, Jack39. Fool's gold or whatever the appropriate term.""A cruel illusion. I know. But I'd like to keep the tablets in a safe place, if only as physical evidence that Dylar exists.
If your left brain should decide to die, I want to be able to sue someone. There are four tablets left. Where are they?""Are you telling me they're not behind the radiator40 cover?""That's right.""I didn't move them, honest.""Is it possible you threw them away in an angry or depressed41 moment? I only want them for the sake of historicalaccuracy. Like White House tapes. They go into the archives.""You haven't been pretested," she said. "Even one pill can be dangerous to ingest.""I don't want to ingest.""Yes, you do.""We are being coaxed42 out of the ingestion swath. Where is Mr. Gray? I may want to sue him as a matter of principle.""We made a pact25, he and I.""Tuesdays and Fridays. The Grayview Motel.""That's not what I mean. I promised not to reveal his true identity to anyone. Considering what you're after, thatpromise goes double. It's more for your good than his. I'm not telling, Jack. Let's just resume our lives. Let's tell eachother we'll do the best we can. Yes yes yes yes yes."I drove to the grade school and parked across the street from the main entrance. Twenty minutes later they camesurging out, about three hundred kids, babbling44, gleeful, casually45 amuck46. They called brilliant insults, informed andspacious obscenities, hit each other with bookbags, knit caps. I sat in the driver's seat scanning the mass of faces,feeling like a dope dealer47 or pervert48.
When I spotted49 Denise I blew the horn and she came over. This was the first time I'd ever picked her up at school andshe gave me a wary50 and hard-eyed look as she passed in front of the car— a look that indicated she was in no moodfor news of a separation or divorce. I took the river road home. She scrutinized51 my profile.
"It's about Dylar," I said. "The medication has nothing to do with Baba's memory problems. In fact just the opposite.
She takes Dylar to improve her memory.""I don't believe you.""Why not?""Because you wouldn't come and get me at school just to tell me that. Because we already found out you can't get itwith a prescription52. Because I talked to her doctor and he never heard of it.""You called him at home?""At the office.""Dylar is a little too special for a G.P.""Is my mother a drug addict53?""You're smarter than that," I said.
"No, I'm not.""We'd like to know what you did with the bottle. There were some tablets left.""How do you know I took them?"1 know it, you know it.
"If somebody wants to tell me what Dylar really is, maybe we'll get somewhere.""There's something you don't know," I said. "Your mother no longer takes the medication. Whatever your reason forholding the bottle, it's just not valid23 anymore."We'd looped around to the west and were now driving through the college campus. Automatically I reached into myjacket for the dark glasses and put them on.
"Then I'll throw it away," she said.
Over the next few days I tried an assortment54 of arguments, some nearly breathtaking in their delicate webby texture55.
I even enlisted56 Babette, convincing her that the bottle belonged in adult hands. But the girl's will was supremelyresistant. Her life as a legal entity43 had been shaped by other people's bargaining and haggling57 and she wasdetermined to follow a code too rigid58 to allow for the trade-off, the settlement. She would keep the object hiddenuntil we told her its secret.
It was probably just as well. The drug could be dangerous, after all. And I was not a believer in easy solutions,something to swallow that would rid my soul of an ancient fear. But I could not help thinking about thatsaucer-shaped tablet. Would it ever work, could it work for some but not others? It was the benign59 counterpart of theNyodene menace. Tumbling from the back of my tongue down into my stomach. The drug core dissolving, releasingbenevolent chemicals into my bloodstream, flooding the fear-of-death part of my brain. The pill itself silentlyself-destructing in a tiny inward burst, a polymer implosion60, discreet61 and precise and considerate.
Technology with a human face.
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toxic
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| adj.有毒的，因中毒引起的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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conscientiousness
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| 责任心 | |
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devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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amplified
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| 放大，扩大( amplify的过去式和过去分词 )； 增强； 详述 | |
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interfacing
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| 衬布，衬头 | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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deploy
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| v.（军）散开成战斗队形，布置，展开 | |
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foodstuffs
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| 食物，食品( foodstuff的名词复数 ) | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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intrudes
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| v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的第三人称单数 )；把…强加于 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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wails
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| 痛哭，哭声( wail的名词复数 ) | |
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invalids
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| 病人，残疾者( invalid的名词复数 ) | |
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valid
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| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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pact
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| n.合同，条约，公约，协定 | |
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evacuating
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| 撤离，疏散( evacuate的现在分词 )； 排空（胃肠），排泄（粪便）； （从危险的地方）撤出，搬出，撤空 | |
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consultant
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| n.顾问；会诊医师，专科医生 | |
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gimmick
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| n.(为引人注意而搞的)小革新，小发明 | |
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leftovers
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| n.剩余物，残留物，剩菜 | |
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reptiles
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| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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paperback
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| n.平装本，简装本 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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savored
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| v.意味，带有…的性质( savor的过去式和过去分词 )；给…加调味品；使有风味；品尝 | |
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mimic
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| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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radiator
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| n.暖气片，散热器 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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entity
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| n.实体，独立存在体，实际存在物 | |
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babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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amuck
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| ad.狂乱地 | |
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dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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pervert
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| n.堕落者，反常者；vt.误用，滥用；使人堕落，使入邪路 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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addict
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| v.使沉溺；使上瘾；n.沉溺于不良嗜好的人 | |
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assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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haggling
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| v.讨价还价( haggle的现在分词 ) | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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implosion
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| n.向内破裂，内爆 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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