Oh Pure and Radiant Heart by Lydia Millet (shoe dog free ebook .txt) 📕

back in the Year of Our Lord 1992. That was going to be an underground blast, since of course we weren’t doing the air blasts anymore by then, ladies and gentlemen, due to the Limited Test Ban Treaty we got back in the sixties under President Kennedy. So this was going to be an underground blast.

—Look at that, Jimmy. Is it some kind of a prairie dog? asked the woman in the row behind them, pointing out the dirty bus window and raising her camera. The shutter clicked.

—It’s like a ferret weasel, said her husband.

—Folks, that there is a squirrel, said Virgil.

—Oh! said the woman.

—Unfortunately, the moratorium was issued before we could fire it up. The moratorium came at midnight the very day before we were going to fire off this shot at 4:30 in the morning. So, and this is unfortunate, the shot never went.

Ann gazed out the window across the bleak valley, its brown and beige flats beneath the low mountains. It was a deader version of Trinity, the dark hills in the distance surrounding the dry used-up land, the land burned and in this case pocked with craters that were reputed to be visible from space. It looked like the surface of the moon now but once, many thousands or tens of thousands of years ago, it must have been fertile, home to a river and grassy wetlands that spread out across the valley, home to birds and fish and mammals long gone extinct.

—But it’s just waiting there ladies and gentlemen, said Virgil, smiling and adjusting his glasses on his nose, —and if we ever get the go-ahead from the president for a new round of underground testing, well, we’re more than ready. And that right there will be the first shot we fire.

By two o’clock in the afternoon the crane was back, setting up to hoist the rock out again. Roger called Ben and Yoshi over to watch it with him, removing a cigar from his pocket and lighting up like a proud father as the crane maneuvered into place. Lynn was reported to be sulking and did not put in an appearance at first. But just before the rock lifted off she bustled past them with her arms full of dresses and coats and got into her car, flashing a smile at Ben as she gunned the engine.

—Dry cleaners! she called brightly, and the tires spat gravel.

—I’m going to vomit! Let me off the bus, said Szilard loudly as the bus turned out onto the interstate outside the Test Site, the tour finished. He held his hand over his mouth.

Ann thought it was an obvious fake.

—Sir you can certainly make yourself at home in the rest room there at the back, said Virgil, as the bus driver looked up at Szilard, considering whether he was serious.

—Stop the vehicle now, said Big Glen, towering from his seat.

The bus heaved to a stop on the side of the road and the front door opened as the driver shrugged at Virgil and shook his head. Szilard descended onto the bottom step and waved them forward.

—Oppie! Larry! Everybody off now!

—We’re getting off here, Leo? asked Oppenheimer. —In the middle of nowhere?

—No sir, said Virgil in protest, —ladies and gentlemen?

But Big Glen loomed over him at the front and the group surged past and down the steps, Ann and Oppenheimer lagging behind.

—Leo? called Oppenheimer again. —Please. What is this?

—We have business here, said Szilard, looking up at them as they dismounted. He stood on the dirt shoulder of the road with a yucca behind him, brown and ragged from the long drought, and craned his neck to wave up at Virgil through the bus door. —Thanks for the tour, but we’re done.

—Business? asked Ann. —I mean how long are we staying here for?

—As long as it takes.

—Who decided that? We don’t get input into where we’re going?

—This isn’t a democracy, said Clint, as he jumped to the ground in front of her. —Or hadn’t you noticed.

—You didn’t consult me, Leo, said Oppenheimer severely.

—I didn’t have time. We had to act quickly, said Szilard. —It’ll be fine. We’ll rent a couple of RVs and some minivans. You’ll still be sleeping in comfort, Oppie.

When all twelve of them were standing on the shoulder of the road the bus’s doors wheezed closed and the bus pulled away, Virgil shaking his head at them sadly from the dark interior. Ann felt they had gravely disappointed him, and looking at the others she saw ambivalence on their faces.

As the bus receded she thought of Virgil inside it, disappointed. His pride was a giant thing, surging inside a small man.

Here they were. It was bright and clear and the sky was a hostile white.

—Let’s go see what we got, said Szilard, and they followed him in twos and threes as he trudged back up the shoulder of the road toward Peace Camp. Larry talked to Oppenheimer about irradiated sheep near the Test Site, which he claimed had given birth to lambs with more than one head. A number of calves, he told Oppenheimer, had been born without any heads at all.

—They were just lumps of flesh when they came out, he said. —But with hair.

Ann lagged behind them, half-listening, wrestling with her discontent as Webster the contortionist slogged along quietly beside her. Suddenly he was tugging with frantic haste at his bright-yellow drysuit, in a rising panic.

—Help me! I gotta get this off!

His face was flushed.

—Don’t worry, she said, reaching out.

—I’m going to suffocate! I can’t breathe!

She stood and helped him to wriggle out of his jacket, pulling it over his raised arms and off his head. Beneath it his cotton undershirt was soaking wet.

—Oh my God, he said. —Lord! I thought I was going to die in that thing.

The ground was hot against the thin soles of her shoes as she waited for him to fold the bulky jacket into his small fanny pack, a task he performed with fastidious care. An eighteen-wheeler thundered past