Chapter 29 Section 27

I did my second physical examination after the poisonous fog incident.There are no startling figures in the printout of the report.This is a death that lurks too deep to be seen.My doctor, Sundar Chakravarty, asked me about two hastily checked physicals that I had always dreaded knowing. I told him I was still scared.He grinned and waited for me to say something nice.I shook his hand and went out. On my way home, I drove down Elm Street, planning to stop at the supermarket.Ambulances were everywhere on the street, and I saw a lot of people lying on the ground in a distance.A man in an armband blew a whistle on me and walked up to my car.I caught a glimpse of some other men in Milex suits.The stretcher bearers ran across the street.As the whistler approached, I could read the words on his armband: SIMUVAC.

"Back back," he said. "The street is closed." "Surely you guys are ready for a mock operation? You may be waiting for a bigger spill. Schedule your time later." "Move away, get out of the way. You're entering exposure." "what does that mean." "Meaning it will kill you," he told me. I reversed off the street and parked the car.Then I walked slowly back to Elm Street, trying to pretend I was one of them.I cling to the storefront, among the technicians and firefighters and uniforms.There are buses, police cars, small ambulances everywhere.People with electronic devices seem to be trying to detect radiation and toxic fallout.Finally I approached the volunteers who played the casualties, about twenty of them, some lying face down, some lying on their backs, some lying on curbs, some dazedly sitting in the street.

I was surprised to see my own daughter among them.She was lying on her back in the middle of the street, one arm outstretched, her head tilted to the other side.I just can't bear to watch.Could this be what she thought of herself at the tender age of nine—already a victim, trying to perfect her craft?How natural she looked, how deeply imbued with the idea of ​​catastrophe.Is this the future she envisions? I walked over and knelt down. "Steffy? Is that you?" She opened her eyes. "Unless you're a victim, you shouldn't be here," she said. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

"If they see you, I'll be in trouble." "It's too cold in here and you're going to get sick. Does Babe know you're here?" "I signed up at school an hour ago." "They should at least give out some blankets," I said. She closed her eyes.I talked to her for a while longer, but she wouldn't answer.There was not a hint of irritation or indifference in her silence.Only sincerity.She has always been sincere in her sacrifice. I walk back onto the sidewalk.A man's voice on the loudspeaker buzzed into the street from somewhere in the supermarket.

"On behalf of the Disaster Recovery Corporation, I would like to welcome you all. We are a privately held consulting firm that designs and implements simulated evacuations. We have liaised with twenty-two state agencies for this disaster exercise. I Believe me, this is the first of many exercises to come. The more we rehearse disaster, the safer we will be when disaster actually strikes. That's how life seems to work, doesn't it? Went to work with an umbrella for seven days and it didn't rain. The first day you left the umbrella at home it had a record breaking downpour. Never missed it, huh? That's what we wanted to apply with the rest Mechanism. Okay, down to business. When the siren sounds three long beeps, thousands of carefully selected people who need to be evacuated leave their homes and workplaces and board their vehicles to a well-equipped emergency shelter. Traffic commanders must immediately enter the computer The latest instructions will be announced on the broadcast system of the 'simulated evacuation' operation. Air monitoring personnel will be deployed along the smoke-shrouded area. Dairy inspectors will test milk in the spill ingestion area for the next three days and random sampling of food. Today we are not simulating specific spills. This is a general leak or spill. It could be radiated vapors, chemical puffs, smoke of unknown origin. The important thing is action. Put those People make disaster areas. We learned a lot from that night of rolling fog. But nothing can replace a planned simulation. If reality intervenes in a rollover accident or someone falls off a stretcher, please do Remember, we are not here to heal broken bones or put out real fires. We are here to do a simulation. Stopping in the middle of a real emergency can kill a person. If we learn not to stop now, we will We can't stop when something really happens. Well, when the sirens sound two mournful screams, street conductors go door to door searching for those left behind by neglect. Feeding birds, goldfish, old, weak, sick , wait. Five minutes, victims. Remember all you rescuers, this is not a bombing simulation. Your victims are terrified, not traumatized. Save your tender loving care for Nuclear explosions in June. We have four minutes, count. Victims, limp up and walk. Remember you don't shout or run around here: we like victims with restraint. This is not New York or Los Angeles. A little humming is enough."

I decided not to stay any longer.I got back in the car and drove home.When I parked in front of my house, the alarm went off three times.Heinrich, wearing a reflective vest and camouflage hat, sat on the front steps.With him was an older boy.He has a strong and solid body, and his skin color can't tell whether it is black or not.Nobody on our street seems to be evacuating.Heinrich looked at the clipboard. "What's the matter?" "I'm a street conductor," he said. "Did you know Steffi was playing the victim too?" "She said she might go."

"Why didn't you tell me?" "They just picked her and put her in an ambulance. Any questions?" "I don't know what's wrong." "If she wants to do it, she should do it." "She seems to be able to adjust herself into this role very well." "It could save her life one day." "How can you save someone's life by pretending you're injured or dead?" "If she does it now, she may not have to do it later. The more you practice something, the less likely it is to actually happen." "That's what the advisor said."

"It's a trick, but it works." "Who is this?" "This is Oreste Mercator. He came to help me check the remnants." "Are you the one who's going to sit in a cage of deadly snakes? Can you tell me why?" "Because I want to set a record," Oreste said. "Why are you willing to be killed just to set a record?" "Kill what? Who said anything about being killed?" "You'll be surrounded by some rare and deadly reptiles." "They're the best at what they do. I want to be the best at what I do."

"What are you going to do?" "I'm going to sit in a cage for sixty-seven days. It takes that many days to break the record." "Do you understand that you're risking death for a few lines in a paperback book?" He looked sharply at Heinrich, apparently blaming him for such stupid questioning. "They'll bite you," I went on. "How do you know?" "because I know." "These are real snakes, Oreste. One bite is enough." "If they bite, one bite is enough. But they don't bite." "They're real, you're real. People get bitten all the time. Snake venom is deadly."

"Someone gets bitten, but I don't." I find myself still saying, "You will, you will. These snakes don't know that you don't believe in death. They don't know that you are young and strong, that you think death can come to anyone but you. They Bite, and you die." I pause, embarrassed by the intensity of my emotions as I speak.I was surprised to see him looking at me with some interest and some grudging respect.Perhaps I was using too much force in my yelling, confirming to him the weight of his approach, instilling in him a hint of unruly fate. "They bite when they want," he said. "At least I'm still the same. These snakes are the best and kill the fastest. Belly snakes bite me and I'm dead in seconds."

"What are you in a hurry for? You are only nineteen years old, and you will find hundreds of ways to die better than being bitten by a snake." What class of names does "Orest" fall into?I looked closely at his facial features. He could be Latin American, Middle Eastern, Central Asian, dark Eastern European, or light-skinned black.Does he speak with an accent?I can not confirm.Was he a Native American, a Spanish and a Portuguese Jew?It's getting harder and harder to know what not to say to someone. He said to me, "How many pounds can you press lying on the bench?" "I don't know. Not much." "Have you ever punched someone in the face?" "Maybe once on a whim, a long time ago." "I've been looking forward to punching someone in the face. Unarmed, give it my all, see how it feels." Heinrich grinned like a dove in a movie.The alarm starts to go off—two mournful beeps.I went in while the two boys checked the number of the house.Babette was in the kitchen feeding Wilder his lunch. "He's wearing a reflective vest," I said. "That was so he wouldn't get hit by a fleeing vehicle in case there was smoke." "I don't think anyone has bothered to escape. How do you feel?" "Better," she said. "me too." "I think my spirits are lifted just because I'm with Wilder." "I see what you mean. I always feel good when I'm with Wilder too. Is it because the pleasure doesn't stick to him? He's selfish without being stingy, selfish in a completely limitless and natural way ...there's something wonderful in the way he drops one thing and grabs another. It annoys me when other kids don't get to fully appreciate special moments or occasions. They make things that should be retained and savored Something slipped by. But when Wilder got into that situation, I saw the spirit of genius at work." "That might be true, but there's something else about him that turns me on emotionally. Something bigger and more majestic that I can't pinpoint." "Remind me to ask Murray," I said. She scooped up a spoonful of soup and put it into the child's mouth, while making an expression for him to imitate, she said: "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes." "One thing I have to ask, where is 'Daile'?" "Forget it, Jack. Or whatever." "Cruel vision, I know. But, I want to put the pill in a safe place, and have it as physical evidence that the drug 'Dairol' does exist. If your left brain dies, I want to be able to sue for it Someone. The remaining four pills, where are they?" "Did you say they weren't behind the radiator anymore?" "That's what happened." "I haven't touched them, really." "Is it possible that you threw them away when you were angry or discouraged? I want them, just for historical accuracy. Like the White House tapes, they go into the archives." "You haven't been pre-tested," she said. "Even a single pill can be dangerous if ingested." "I don't want to ingest." "No, you think." "We're being coaxed out of the spill ingestion zone. Where's Mr. Gray? I might prosecute him in principle." "We had an agreement, him and me." "Every Tuesday and Friday. 'Greyview Motel.'" "That's not what I meant. I promised not to reveal his real identity. Given your intentions, that promise must be redoubled. It's more for your own good than his. I won't say it, Jack. Let's get our lives back. Let's all come and tell each other that we're going to do whatever it takes. That's it, that's it, that's it, that's it, that's it." I drove to the elementary school and parked across the street from the gate.Twenty minutes later, about three hundred children swarmed out, shouting, laughing, and playing casually.They utter brilliant swear words, rich and wide-ranging swear words, and chase each other with schoolbags and woolen hats.Sitting in the driver's seat and looking at this mass of faces, I felt like a drug dealer or a pervert. I honked the horn when I saw Denise, and she came over.Today was the first time I picked her up from school, and she stepped up to the front of the car for a look, her eyes sharp and wary—a look that suggested she wasn't in the mood to hear news of a separation or divorce.She watched my profile carefully. "It's about Dale," I said. "The drug has nothing to do with Babe's memory lapses. In fact, it's the opposite. She's taking Dale to improve her memory." "I do not believe you." "Why don't you believe it?" "Because you're not going to pick me up from school just to tell me about it. Because I've found out it's not available by prescription. Because I've talked to her doctor and he's never heard of it." "Did you call his house?" "Call him to the clinic." "Dai Leer is a little too professional for a general practitioner." "Does my mother do drugs?" "You're smart enough to figure things out like this," I said. "No, I'm not that smart." "We want to know what you did with that drug. There are a few pills left in it." "How do you know I took it?" "I understand, you understand." "If someone would tell me what a 'Dale' is, maybe we could get a little closer." "There's a lot you don't know," I said. "Your mother doesn't take it anymore. Whatever reason you had for keeping the bottle, it's no longer a valid reason." We drove around to the west, and at this point we were passing through the college's campus.Involuntarily, I reached into my jacket pocket, took out my sunglasses, and put them on. "Then I'll throw it away," she said. Over the next few days, I tried to make all kinds of arguments, some of which were so cleverly and intricately choreographed that they were almost thrilling.I even brought Babette in and convinced her that the vials should be handled by grown-ups.But the girl's will was especially rebellious.As a legal entity, her life is shaped by the bargaining of others; she is determined to follow an extremely strict code that does not allow for compromise or reconciliation.She's going to hide things until we tell her the secret. Maybe that's fine too.After all, this drug can be harmful.I don't believe in an easy way, that swallowing something like that will relieve an old fear in my soul.But I couldn't help but think of the disc-shaped pill.If it works, can it work for some people and not others?It is a healthful counterpart of the nyodine hazard.Rolled from the back of my tongue and down into my stomach.The core of the medicine dissolves, releasing beneficial chemicals into my bloodstream, flooding the part of my brain that fears death.The pill itself undergoes a small implosion, a polymer that implodes, then quietly destroys itself.Foolproof, precise and thoughtful. Technology with a human face.

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