Chapter 11 Section 9

They had to evacuate all primary school students on Tuesday.The children had headaches, irritated eyes, and an astringent taste of metal in their mouths.A teacher was rolling on the floor, speaking foreign languages.No one knew what was wrong.Investigators have different opinions. Some say that the fault may be caused by the ventilation system, some say that the paint or polish, foam insulation, electrical insulation are caused, and some say that it is caused by the food in the cafeteria, the radiation emitted by the computer, and the asbestos fire prevention. The material, the tape on the crate, the steam coming out of the sanitizer, or something deeper, microscopic, more tightly woven into the fundamental state of things.

Denise and Steffi stayed at home that week, while men in Milex suits and breathing masks systematically scanned the building, inside and out, with infrared detectors.Because Millex itself was a suspicious material, the detection results were confused, and a more stringent second round of inspections had to be arranged. The two girls, Babette, Wilder and I went to the supermarket.A few minutes after we went in, we bumped into Murray.It was the fourth or fifth time I'd seen him in the supermarket, and about as many times I'd seen him on campus.He grabbed Babette's bicep by the upper arm and spun around her sideways, seemingly smelling her hair.

"A good dinner," he said, standing directly behind her. "I like to cook my own food, and it makes me appreciate people who cook well." "You can come anytime," she said, turning to face him. We walked into the extremely cool supermarket together.Wilder was sitting in the shopping cart, grabbing items from the shelves as we walked by, and I suddenly felt he was too old and too big for the shopping cart.I also wondered why his vocabulary never seemed to exceed twenty-five words. "I'm happy to be here," Murray said. "In Blacksmith Town?"

"In Blacksmith Town, in the supermarket, in the boarding house, on the hills. I feel like I'm recognizing important things every day. Death, disease, life after death, outer space. Everything is clearer here. I can think and see .” We come to the general food department.Murray stopped with his plastic shopping basket and rummaged among the white cardboard boxes and jars.I wasn't sure if I understood what he was saying.What did he mean by "more clarity"?What can he think and observe? Steffi took my hand and we walked through the fruit department.It was an area of ​​forty-five yards along the wall, and there were many fruit boxes placed at an angle, and behind them were mirrors, which customers occasionally bumped into when they took the fruit from the upper row in the back row.A voice came from the loudspeaker horn: "Clinex Softik, your truck is blocking the entrance." Apples and lemons rolled to the floor in twos and threes as someone removed one from the pile superior.There are six varieties of apples and several pastel-colored imported melons.All the fruit seemed to be in season, sprayed, smooth, and bright.Customers rip the plastic-film bags off the shelves, trying to figure out which end to open.I realized that the place was full of noise.A jumble of sounds: the harsh squeaking of shopping wheels, the blaring of loudspeakers and the rattle of coffee mills, the crying of children.Above or below all the sounds, there was a muffled roar of indeterminate origin, as if from some form of densely populated creature beyond the range of human perception.

"Did you express your apology to Denise?" "Maybe later," Steffi said, "remind me." "She's a sweet girl who wants to be your good sister and friend if you let her." "I don't know what a friend is. Don't you think she's a little bossy?" "In addition to expressing your apology to her, you must return her "Doctor's Manual" to her." "She's always looking at that thing. Don't you think it's odd?" "At least she's reading something." "Of course, a bunch of drug names. Do you think that's why?"

"why?" "Because she's trying to find out the side effects of Babe taking that stuff." "What does Babe take?" "Don't ask me, ask Denise." "How do you know what Babe is taking?" "Ask Denise." "Why can't I ask Babe?" "Then ask Babe," she said. Murray came out of a passage and walked ahead of us with Babette.He sniffed a double-pack of tissues from her cart.Denise met some friends, and together they went to the front to look at the paperbacks on the long thin shelves, with metallic ink, embossed letters and bright pictures on the covers, all of which were A tale of cult brutality and a cult romance.Denise wears a green visor.I heard Babette tell Murray that she had been wearing it fourteen hours a day for three weeks now.She wouldn't go out without it, or even leave her room.She wears it at school when she goes to school; she also takes it to the toilet, to the dentist and to meals.There seemed to be something on the visor that spoke to her, became an integral part of her personality.

"It's her connection to the world," Murray said. He helped Babette push the full shopping cart.I heard him say to her: "Tibetans believe that there is a transitional state between death and rebirth. Death is in fact a waiting period, some new womb will soon receive the soul. Meanwhile, the soul itself regenerates. Some divinity lost at birth." He watched her sideways carefully, as if to detect some kind of reaction. "That's what I think about every time I come here. This place spiritually feeds us, equips us, it's an entry or pathway. Look, how alive! It's full of spiritual data."

My wife smiles at him. "Everything is hidden in symbolism, obscured by veils of mystery and layers of cultural material. But, it's definitely spiritual data. Huge portals slide open and close automatically. Waves of energy, incoming radiation. All letters and The numbers are all there, all the colors in the color spectrum, all the voices and sounds, all the code words and ritual phrases. It's just a matter of deciphering, reorganizing and stripping away the layers of the inexpressible. Not that we want to , not for any other practical purpose. This is not Tibet. Even Tibet is not Tibet anymore.”

He watched her profile carefully.She puts a piece of yogurt in the cart. "Tibetans try to understand actual death. It is the end of connection with things. This simple truth is difficult to understand. But once we no longer deny death, we can die peacefully and move on, To experience rebirth in the womb or what Judeo-Christians call life after death and out-of-body experiences, or travel in UFOs, or do whatever we want to call it. We can do it with a clear mind , without having to feel awe and terror. We don't have to pretend to live or die for it. We headed straight for the sliding door. Waves and radiation. Look at everything lit by lights. This Places are closed, independent, without beginning and end. There is another reason I think of Tibet. In Tibet, death is an art. A lama enters, sits down, tells crying relatives to leave, and seals the room. Doors and windows are sealed On. He has serious things to do. Chanting, horoscopes and horoscope readings, reading scriptures. Here and now we are not dying, but shopping. But the difference between the two is bigger than you think Much less."

He's almost muttering now, and I try to get closer to him without bumping my shopping cart into Babette's.I wanted to hear every word he said. “It was a revelation to me that supermarkets were so big, so clean, so modern. In my past life, there were just little steamy deli shops with sloping display cases full of plates filled with Limp, soggy, pale lumpy stuff. The shelves are so high you have to stand on tiptoe to point at what you want to buy. Shouting, foreign accents. In the city, no one pays attention to a specific death. Death is just a property of the air. It is everywhere and nowhere. People shout and try to be noticed when they die, even if they are remembered for a little while. Die in the apartment, not To die in his own house with a single-family courtyard, I can imagine that his soul will be depressed for several lifetimes. In a small town, there are houses with a single-family courtyard, and you can still see the flowers and plants placed inside from the bay window. Death More people notice. The faces of the dead are known, their cars are known. Even if you can't pronounce someone's name, you at least know the street where the person lived or the name of his dog.' He drove An orange Mazda.' You know two or three useless little things about someone. But when the man has been ill for a while and is lying in his own bed on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, Hugging the quilt and pillow, with a fever, sinuses and chest a little congested, and thinking about the dry cleaning, he died suddenly. At this time, the few useless little things you know about him become The main facts for his identification and cosmic location."

Babette said, "Where's Wilder?" She turned and stared at me in a way that she hadn't seen him for ten minutes.The other expression on her face, which is less melancholy and guilty, indicates a longer time span, a deeper neglect.For example: "I didn't know that whales were mammals." The longer the time span, the more blank the expression and the more dangerous the situation.It seemed that guilt was a luxury she allowed herself only when the danger was minimal. "How could he have slipped out of the cart and I didn't notice?" Three adults stood at the end of each aisle, watching the passing carts and the moving crowd.Then, side by side, we moved slightly to change the surveillance line, and just like that we poked our heads to check the other three aisles.I keep seeing colored dots flying to the right, but when I turn my head, I can't see anything.I've discovered colored dots for years, but never in so many, so vibrant.Murray saw Wilder sitting in another woman's shopping cart.The woman waved to Babette and walked towards us pushing the cart.She lives down the street from us with a teenage daughter and an Asian baby named Duck Chen.Everyone called the child by name, with almost the proud tone of the child's parents, but no one knew who Chen's parents were or where he or she came from. "Clinex Softik, Klinex Softik." Steffi took my hand, and it took me a while to realize that it was meant to reassure me, not to show tender possession of me, as I first thought.I was a little surprised.Hold my hand, and help me regain my self-confidence, so that I will not be swayed by any melancholy emotions-she thinks she has found some melancholy emotions that cannot be resolved in me. Murray invited us to dinner the following Saturday before going to line up in the small order fast lane to pay the bill. "You just have to let me know at the last minute before you come." "We'll go," said Babette. "I'm not going to prepare a big meal, so if you guys have anything else to do, just call and let me know beforehand. You don't even have to call. If you don't show up by then, I'll know what's up with you, and There is no way to notify me." "Murray, we'll go." "Bring the children, too." "No." "Fine. But if you decide to bring them, that's absolutely fine. I don't want you to feel like I'm chaining you to something, like you've made some irrevocable commitment. You can come, and You don't have to. I have to eat all by myself, so if you have something to do and have to cancel, it's no big deal. I just want you to know that if you decide to visit, with or without children, I will be at home waiting. This kind of thing we It must be done until May and June, so I invite you to come next Saturday, there is no particular mystery in it." "Are you coming back next term?" I said. "They asked me to teach a class on movies about car accidents." "Continue the class." "I will." I rubbed against Babette in line to pay the bill.She stepped back onto me and I hugged her from behind and put both hands on her breasts.She wiggled her ass and I buried my nose in her hair, muttering, "Dirty blonde." Customers were writing checks.The tall boy was bagging the goods.Not everyone speaks English here, I heard all kinds of languages ​​at the cashier at the exit, near the fruit and frozen food department or between the cars in the parking lot outside, couldn't figure out which country, let alone I can't quite understand it, even though these tall boys and the woman at the cash register were born in the United States.Wearing stretch pants and tiny white sandals, the women were short, their tunics making them look stout.The line moved slowly toward the final point of sale, where the shelves were lined with peppermint gum and nasal remedies.At the same time, I tried to get my hands up Babette's skirt and press on her belly. It was only when we got outside to the parking lot that we heard rumors that a man had died during an inspection of the elementary school, one of those lumbering men in gas masks, Milex suits, and big boots.Rumor has it that he suddenly fell to the floor in a classroom on the second floor and died.