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

—Reefer, said Fermi sagely, nodding. —Reefer madness!

—Not for me, thank you, said Oppenheimer, gesturing with a cigarette. —I have everything I need right here. One vice at a time.

—It just puts me to sleep, said Ann. —But thanks anyway.

—Sure, said Ben, who rarely indulged.

—It was popular with the Negroes, in my day, said Oppenheimer. —Tea pads. I remember when New York City was full of them. You ever go to one, Leo?

—Negroes? said Larry. —Dude, not too PC. Where you been? And whaddaya mean in your day? You’re like barely, what? Five years older than I am?

—For Chrissake, Oppie, they don’t say “Negroes” anymore, said Szilard. —How many times do I have to tell you?

—African-Americans, said Oppenheimer. —Jazz musicians in particular. They were very fond of marijuana before it was made illegal.

—It used to be legal? asked Larry curiously.

—Till they passed a law in the late ’30s, said Oppenheimer. —’37, if I’m not mistaken.

—That’s rad, said Larry, and lit up. —What comes around goes around, know what I mean? So, Robert. Are you like a history teacher?

—Not history, said Oppenheimer. —Physics. Though I’ve always been interested in the humanities. As a young man I studied Sanskrit.

—Physics, cool, said Larry. —I tried to take a physics class once. It was astrophysics or whatever, the whole Stephen Hawking thing? Because I saw that trailer for the documentary about him where he’s in the wheelchair looking all blissed out and retarded and shit but we know he’s actually this supergenius? And then they show the stars and galaxies and the voiceover goes, in that freaky robot voice he’s got, you know, “And we—can—see—the mind—of God.” I thought that was pretty cool so I enrolled in this class at the university. But then the guy who was teaching the class is giving this talk the first day and he said there was no life in the rest of the universe. So I bailed.

—Quite a disappointment, nodded Oppenheimer sympathetically.

—What do you think, man? Are there aliens? Extraterrestrial life and all that? Are there, like, bizarre alien fish swimming around deep down under the ice on Europa? I read that somewhere. You know Europa, one of the Jupiter moons? They think there’s these weird alien fish there, swimming around and shit. But what I want to know is, have the aliens already landed here on Planet Earth?

—It’s not my area of expertise, said Oppenheimer, amused.

Ben exhaled for a second time, leaned in close to Larry and whispered, —Put it this way. He’s not at liberty to say.

—No thank you, said Fermi, when Ben passed him the joint.

—Really? You ever been to Area 51? Or Roswell?

—Roswell? Yes I have, as a matter of fact, said Oppenheimer. —I’ve been to Roswell on several occasions. Of course it was some time ago, in your terms. When I was working for the Army.

—He used to work on a secret base in northern New Mexico, whispered Ben. —I’m not kidding.

—Come on, urged Larry. —Spill the beans, Bob!

—Spill what beans?

—When were you there, huh? Was it after the alien crash? Were you part of the military coverup? Huh Bob? Did you see the dead alien corpses?

—I’m not familiar with any dead aliens, said Oppenheimer. —You have my word on that.

—They dissected them! There was a movie of it but it turned out to be fake, said Larry.

Szilard accepted the joint from Ben awkwardly, inhaled, coughed vigorously, and promptly asked Larry if there was anywhere he could get a donut.

—They got Mister Donut, said Larry. —Right around the corner. The donuts kinda suck though.

—He’s not picky, said Ben. —Believe me.

—Come with me, said Szilard to Ann.

—How about asking her, said Ben.

—Do you want to come with me, said Szilard.

—OK, said Ann, and shrugged at Ben, smiling apologetically.

—Umbrellas near the door, said Larry. —You’re gonna need ’em. It’s like two blocks over, right out the building, turn the corner, pass the kind of like river thing and then make a left.

—Thanks, said Ann, Szilard already bustling out the door.

Larry turned back to Oppenheimer.

—So seriously Bob. I’m not a security risk, I swear. I won’t breathe a word. Were you involved in the coverup?

—Coverup? asked Oppenheimer.

Larry nudged Ben with his elbow.

—Man, you know what I’m talking about. Don’t play dumb.

The rain was light but steady, the crowds thinner. Bicycles passed close by them as they walked through the drizzle, careful and distracted, holding their umbrellas far above their heads for visibility. It was soon to get dark.

—Do you think it’s heaven, Leo?

—Tokyo? More like hell.

—No, I mean, heaven the idea. It lets us think the world isn’t enough. You know, that bodies aren’t enough, we have to separate ourselves from them to be happy.

—Did he say turn right after the river?

—Left. I mean, if we didn’t have heaven, or if some of us didn’t, would we behave ourselves better? If this was the only world?

—The munchies, they call it. I saw it in a video.

—I’m serious, Leo. Why won’t you ever talk to me about anything?

They crossed a bridge over a cement canal and peered down to see fat gray carp hovering nearly motionless in the shallow water, only the tails waving in slow precise symmetry. Floating garbage gathered around them and stuck, and above them raindrops pinpricked the surface. Planted at the top of the walls of the canal, level with the street, were azalea bushes with blooms three lurid shades of pink.

—The brain of a carp …, started Szilard, and then trailed off, distracted. —Can I get a cup of coffee at the donut shop? I want a coffee with the donut.

They walked past the Mister Donut looking for a coffee shop and found a hole-in-the-wall McDonalds and a fried chicken place that featured, confronting them assertively on the sidewalk, a life-sized cardboard cutout of Colonel Sanders clad in startling Samurai armor.

Finally they caught sight of a Starbucks and Szilard, who had acquired a taste for strong contemporary coffee and now shunned the weak coffee to which he had become accustomed in the