Chapter 24 Section 22

Supermarkets are packed with elderly people looking bewildered among the bewildering shelves.Some were too small to reach the upper shelves; some blocked the aisles with shopping carts; some were clumsy and unresponsive; Chirping, the expression on his face is the cautious expression of people in the corridors of public institutions. I push the shopping cart down the aisle.Wilder sat on the foldable shelf inside, trying to grasp the goods whose shape and luster stimulated his sensory analysis system.The supermarket opened two new departments: butchers and bakers.The smell of bread and pastries from the oven and the sight of a bloodstained butcher patting fresh veal got us all really excited.

"Drestan nasal psychic, Drestan nasal psychic." Another exciting thing is the snow.The forecast calls for heavy snow later in the day or overnight.As soon as the news got out, crowds gathered, people who feared that the roads would soon be impassable, people who were too old to walk safely in the snow and ice, and who thought the storm would lock them into their homes for days or weeks without help people.Older people are especially sensitive to impending catastrophe, which is heralded by stern-faced men on television standing in front of digital radar maps or pulsating photographs of the Earth.They were instigated by this and frantically rushed to the supermarket to buy more things before the snowstorm arrived.Watch out for snow conditions, the weatherman said.Be prepared for snow.snowplow.Snow with hail and freezing rain.It has been snowing in the west for a long time, and the snow has been moving eastward for a long time.They treated the news like they had discovered a skull.Snow showers, small snow showers.Heavy snow alert.Floating snow, blowing snow.Deep snow.pile up, destroy.Elderly people shop in a panic.TV didn't make them angry, TV scared them to death.They whisper to each other in the payment line.Tourist weather reports zero visibility.When does the snow fall?how many inchesHow many days?They become secretive and evasive, seeming to withhold the latest and worst news from others, as if sly is added to their haste, trying to hurry away before they are asked how much they bought.Hoarders at war.Greedy, sinful.

I spotted Murray in the general food section, holding a flat nonstick pan.I stopped and looked at him for a while.He talked to four or five people, pausing now and then to jot something down in a coil-spring book.He was still able to write with a frying pan awkwardly under his armpit. Wilder yelled at him in a loud squeal and I turned the cart around. "How about your nice woman?" "Okay." I said. "Is the child already talking?" "Speak occasionally. He likes to choose where he speaks." "You remember that time you helped me? The fight involving Elvis Presley?"

"Of course. I went into the classroom and gave a speech." "Sadly, it turns out I would have won anyway." "What happened?" "My rival Kortsakis is no longer among the living." "What do you mean by that?" "It means he's dead." "died?" "Disappeared while surfing at the beach, on vacation. I didn't know about it an hour ago, and then came here." Suddenly I became aware of the heavy atmosphere around me.The automatic door opens and closes for a while, creaking unexpectedly.Colors and smells seem more irritating.The screeching of footsteps was joined by a dozen other noises—the flooded murmur of maintenance systems, customers flipping through tabloid fortune-telling charts, the murmurs of powdered old women, The solid clang of the car as it rolled over the loose manhole cover.Sliding footsteps.I could hear this dull and melancholy gliding of feet in every passage.

"How are the girls?" Murray said. "it is good." "Back to school?" "yes." "Now that the panic is over." "Yeah. Steffi doesn't wear her protective visor anymore." "I'm going to buy some 'New York cuts,'" he said, pointing to the butcher. The name sounds familiar, but what exactly is it? "Unpackaged meat, fresh bread," he went on, "imported fruit, rare cheeses. Products from twenty countries. It was like being at some crossroads of the ancient world, some Persian bazaar, or a coastal Boom City. How are you, Jack?"

What does he mean: how are you? "Poor Kortsakis, lost while surfing," I said. "That big man." "it's him." "I do not know what to say." "He's really big." "Absolutely." "I don't know what to say. Except one: It's better he than me." "He must have weighed three hundred pounds." "Oh, too much." "How much do you think, two hundred and ninety, three hundred?" "Probably three hundred." "Dead. Such a big man." "What can we say?" "I think I'm tall."

"He's in another class. You're a big guy in your class." "It's not that I know him. I don't know him at all." "They're dead, and it's better not to know them. It's better they than us." "Grown so big. Then died." "There are no people left, and there is no trace left. The rush is gone." "I remember his appearance clearly." "It's kind of strange, isn't it," said he, "that we should remember what the dead look like." I lead Wilder through the fruit department.The fruit is shiny, wet, angular, and there is a certain posturing quality to it, looking carefully prepared, like four-coloured fruit in a photography manual.We turned right at the counter selling mineral water in plastic jugs and walked towards the checkout.I love being with Wilder.The world is a succession of fleeting gratifications.He grabs what he can, then immediately forgets in the ensuing burst of pleasure.Such forgetfulness is what I envy and envy.

The woman at the checkout asked him a few questions and answered them herself in a baby voice. Some houses in the city showed signs of disrepair.Park benches need repair, potholed streets need to be rid of the signs of age.But supermarkets are just as good as ever, except better, with stocked shelves, bright lights and music.It seemed to us that this was the key.All is well and will continue to be well, and as long as the supermarket stays alive, it will be even better in the end. I drove Babette to her posture class early that night.We parked at the overpass on the main road and got out to watch the sunset.Ever since the smog incident, sunsets have been almost unbearably beautiful.Not that there is any measurable relationship in it.Even if the nyodine derivatives plus the emissions, pollutants and seepage that drift and drift every day make this aesthetic leap, no one can prove it.The sunset, which was already brilliant and brilliant, jumped into an ocher, broad, high-rise and dreamlike aerial view, revealing horror.

"What else can we believe?" Babette said. "How else can we explain it?" "I have no idea." "We're not on the edge of an ocean or a desert. We're supposed to see a mild winter sunset. But look at this fiery sky, so beautiful and so funny. Sunset used to take five minutes, now it takes an hour. " "Why is that?" "Why is that?" she said. This location of the overpass provides expansive westward views.People have been coming here since the first strange sunset, parked their cars, and stood together in the cold to talk and watch nervously.There are already four cars here now, and there are sure to be others on the way.The overpass has long been a viewing point.The reluctance of the police to enforce parking bans, like the Paralympics, makes all restrictions seem trivial in this context.

Later, I drove back to the Congregational Church to pick her up.Denise and Wilder go for a ride.Babette looks good and provocative in jeans and leg warmers.There's something paramilitary and ancient bushido about these leg warmers.She also wore a fur hood while shoveling snow.It reminds me of the fifth century AD.The men stood around the campfire, talking in hushed tones in their Turkish and Mongolian languages.The sky is clear."Attila the Hun" died without fear, a role model for all. "How was the class?" Denise said. "So good that they asked me to take another class."

"Teach what?" "Jack won't believe that." "Teach what?" I said. "Eat and Drink. The title of the course is 'Eat and Drink: The Basics.' I admit, the title of the course is a little bit dumber than it should be." "What can you teach?" Denise said. "That's about it. There's literally no end to what can be taught. Eat light food and drink plenty of water and drinks in warm weather." "But everyone understands these." "Knowledge is advancing. People like to reinforce their beliefs. Don't lie down after a full meal. Don't drink on an empty stomach. If you must swim after a meal, wait at least an hour. The world is more complicated for adults than it is for children. We grow There are not all these changing facts and attitudes in the process of doing things, one day they just appear. So, people need some authority on whether a certain way of doing things is right or wrong, at least for the time being. Affirm it. I'm the best fit they can find, that's all." A strand of fluff is electrostatically attracted to the TV screen. We lay quietly on the bed, my head between her breasts, as if seeking solace after a brutal blow.I was determined not to tell her the computer's verdict on me.I knew she would be overwhelmed like a thunderbolt knowing that I would almost certainly die before her.Her body became my resolve, my strength to remain silent.Every night I crawl into her breasts, into that specific space and lie there like a traumatized submarine sailing into a repair dock.I find courage in her breasts, in her warm mouth, in her caressing hands and her fingers lightly brushing my back.The lighter the touch, the more determined I was to keep it from her.Only her own despair can break my will. At one point, I almost begged her to put on leg warmers before having sex.But such a plea seemed to be rooted more deeply in pity than in perverted sexuality; I thought it would make her suspect that something had gone wrong.

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