simistic massive tally。 We are the sum total of our data； I told her； just as we are the sum total of our chemical impulses。 I tried to explain how hard I'd struggled to keep the news from her。 But after her own revelations； this seemed the wrong kind of secret to be keeping。
〃So …we are no longer talking about fear and floating terror；〃 I said。 〃This is the hard and heavy thing； the fact itself。〃
Slowly she emerged from beneath the covers。 She climbed on top of me； sobbing。 I felt her fingers clawing at my shoulders and neck。 The warm tears fell on my lips。 She beat me on the chest； seized my left hand and bit the flesh between the thumb and index finger。 Her sobs became a grunting sound； full of terrible desperate effort。 She took my head in her hands； gently and yet fiercely； and rocked it to and fro on the pillow； an act I could not connect to anything she'd ever done； anything she seemed to be。
Later； after she'd fallen off my body and into a restless sleep； I kept on staring into the dark。 The radio came on。 I threw off the covers and went into the bathroom。 Denise's scenic paperweights sat on a dusty shelf by the door。 I ran water over my hands and wrists。 I splashed cold water on my face。 The only towel around was a small pink handcloth with a tic…tac…toe design。 I dried myself slowly and carefully。 Then I tilted the radiator cover away from the wall and stuck my hand underneath。 The bottle of Dylar was gone。
27
I had my second medical checkup since the toxic event。 No startling numbers on the printout。 This death was still too deep to be glimpsed。 My doctor； Sundar Chakravarty； asked me about the sudden flurry of checkups。 In the past I'd always 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 of emergency vehicles。 Farther down I saw bodies scattered about。 A man with an armband blew a。 whistle at me and stepped in front of my car。 I glimpsed other men in Mylex suits。 Stretcher…bearers ran across the street。 When the man 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 your timing 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 I belonged。 I kept close to storefronts； mingled with technicians and marshals； with uniformed personnel。 There were buses； police cars； ambulettes。 People with electronic equipment appeared to be trying to detect radiation or toxic fallout。 In time I approached the volunteer victims。 There were twenty or so； prone； 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； her head tilted the other way。 I could hardly bear to look。 Is this how she thinks of herself at the age of nine—already a victim； trying to polish her skills？ How natural she looked； how deeply imbued with the idea of a sweeping disaster。 Is this the future she envisions？
I walked over there and squatted 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 spoke to her a while longer but she wouldn't answer。 There was no trace of irritation or dismissal in her silence。 Just conscientiousness。 She had a history of being devout in her victimhood。
I went back to the sidewalk。 A man's amplified voice boomed across the street from somewhere inside the supermarket。
〃I want to wele all of you on behalf of Advanced Disaster Management； a private consulting firm that conceives and operates simulated evacuations。 We are interfacing with twenty…two state bodies in carrying out this advanced disaster drill。 The first； I trust； of many。 The more we rehearse disaster； the safer we'll be from the real thing。 Life seems 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 mechanism we hope to employ； among others。 O…right； on to business。 When the siren sounds three long blasts； thousands of hand…picked evacuees will leave their homes and places of employment； get into their vehicles and head for well…equipped emergency shelters。 Traffic directors will race to their puterized stations。 Updated instructions will be issued on the SIMUVAC broadcast system。 Air…sampling people will deploy along the cloud exposure swath。 Dairy samplers will test milk and randomized foodstuffs over the next three days along the ingestion swath。 We are not simulating a particular spillage today。 This is an all…purpose leak or spill。 It could be radioactive steam； chemical cloudlets； a haze of unknown origin。 The important thing is movement。 Get those people out of the swath。 We learned a lot during the night of the billowing cloud。 But there is no substitute for a planned simulation。 If reality intrudes in the form of a car crash or a victim falling off a stretcher； it is important to remember that we are not here to mend broken bones or put out real fires。 We are here to simulate。 Interruptions can cost lives in a real emergency。 If we learn to work around interruptions now； we'll be able to work around them later when it counts。 O…right。 When the siren sounds two melancholy wails； street captains will make house…to…house searches for those who may have been inadvertently left behind。 Birds； goldfish； elderly people； handicapped people； invalids； shut…ins； whatever。 Five minutes； victims。 All you rescue personnel； remember this is not a blast simulation。 Your victims are overe but not traumatized。 Save your tender loving care for the nuclear fireball in June。 We're at four minutes and counting。 Victims； go limp。 And remember you're not here to scream or thrash about。 We like a low…profile victim。 This isn't New York or L。A。 Soft moans will suffice。〃
I decided I didn't want to watch。 I went back to the car and headed home。 The sirens emitted the first three blasts as I pulled up in front of the house。 Heinrich was sitting on the front steps； wearing a reflector vest and his camouflage cap。 With him was an older boy。 He had a powerful pact body of uncertain pigmentation。 No one on our street seemed to be evacuating。 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 actually happen。〃
'That's what the consultant said。〃
〃It's a gimmick but it works。〃
〃Who's this？〃
〃This is Orest Mercator。 He's going to help me check for leftovers。〃
〃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 reptiles。〃
〃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 paperback book？〃
He looked searchingly at Heinrich； obviously holding the boy responsible for this idiotic 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 venom 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 know you'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； a certain grudging respect。 Perhaps the unbeing 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 puff adder bites 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； a dark…skinned Eastern European； a light…skinned black。 Did he have an accent？ I wasn't sure。 Was he a Samoan； a native 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 melancholy blasts。 I went inside as 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 haze； 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 is selfish without being grasping； selfish in a totally unbounded and natural way。 There's something wonderful about the way he drops one thing； grabs for another。 I get annoyed when the other kids don't fully appreciate special moments or occasions。 They let things slide away that should be kept and savored。 But when Wilder does it； I see th