by Lydia Millet
—Harm how? asked Ann, and when he raised an eyebrow she wrapped her arms around herself. The air-conditioning had turned arctic. —What are you going to do?
—We haven’t decided. Would you like to take a walk? I wouldn’t mind seeing Las Vegas again. When I was here last it was nothing like this. You can imagine. It was just a cowtown.
—You deserve a break, said Larry. —Let’s go downstairs and play cards!
—I have to call Ben again, said Ann. —Excuse me.
There was a knock on the door and Larry rose to get it as she dialed.
—Wow! said Larry, and beamed at the room-service guy. —I thought you said forty minutes!
—Did we get the croissants? asked Szilard, re-entering from the balcony. His senses were finely attuned. He hovered over the room service cart as it was rolled in. —What is this, a Danish? A Danish? But there’s no chocolate on it! I ordered a chocolate croissant!
—Remain calm, Leo, said Oppenheimer.
America has always been the world’s leading designer, producer and tester of nuclear weapons, as it is the world’s leading designer of guns. Since 1945, more than two thousand nuclear tests have been conducted worldwide, of which about a thousand were conducted by the U.S.
But the largest single thermonuclear explosion ever produced was a child of the Soviet Union.
This fifty-eight-megaton blast, in October 1961, was set off on the mountainous Arctic islands of Novaya Zemlya, inhabited by northern tribes since the Stone Age. It had about six thousand times the force of Little Boy.
The people living on the islands sustained themselves by fishing and hunting. There was also a large herd of reindeer.
—It’s me, said Ann, when Ben picked up the phone. —I wanted to let you know they got to the hotel. The crisis is over.
—Good, sweetheart. But listen. There’s someone here who wants to talk to Szilard, said Ben. —He’s had some problems reaching him. OK?
—Dr. Szilard? said Ted the lawyer, taking the receiver. —Ted here. I’ve been trying to reach you for days!
He waited briefly and then shrugged in Ben’s direction, shaking his head.
—Anyway. We got a problem. So far the DOD’s ignored us, right? Radio silence. But then right after you sent that one fax off to Livermore some spooks in suits came to my office looking for you. They flashed Army Intelligence badges but I think they were full of shit. They could be basically anyone. What? … Fort Huachuca, they said.
He waited while the receiver squawked.
—Anyway I told them you were out of the country. I’m pretty sure they’ve been doing surveillance on me. I think I lost them walking over here, they couldn’t follow me in their car because I kinda weaved between houses and took some back streets, but these guys are on the hunt. I’m not kidding. These guys are scaring the shit out of me. I think you need to go underground, Leo. These people were insinuating you’re a threat to national security. Next thing we know they’ll call you a terrorist and lock you up at Guantanamo … what do you mean, you already know …?
He waited a few seconds and then his face changed and he hit the wall with his palm.
—Next it’s gonna be death threats. And you didn’t bother to tell me this? I got two kids!
—I’m tired of listening to Leo yell into the telephone, said Oppenheimer, and sighed heavily. —Excuse us, Larry. I’m taking this coffee with me. Ann and I are going for a walk.
They went down in the elevator and when she stepped out she was dizzy, as usual. As they wove their way over the carpet and through the crowded labyrinth of the casino, past roulette wheels and card tables, she felt gratified he had chosen her company, chosen it to the exclusion of others. And realizing she was glad she felt like a child in a contest. Being alone with him was a privilege, though it shouldn’t be and to think of it that way was in fact demeaning. She had to shake the conviction that she was in Oppenheimer’s debt, because in fact if either of them was in debt it was he.
—King Tut’s tomb! cried Oppenheimer. —Is it authentic?
—What do you think, she said.
He looked crestfallen.
—I still want to see it, he said.
In the end she was always the supplicant because she was the one who worried about the imbalance, seeking equality.
—This a replica of the Great Temple of Ramses the Second, said Oppenheimer, as they passed out of the casino into the lobby. —If I’m not mistaken.
—Are those jugs on their heads?
—Jugs? They are crowns!
They emerged onto the sidewalk and she was overwhelmed by the bulk of the commerce on the Strip, the massive casino buildings looming in all their cartoon splendor, shining exaggerations. But the heat oppressed and everywhere there were cars, and the smell of exhaust enveloped them. On the pavement they were surrounded by fat middle-aged people in bright clothing, clothing loudly patterned and stretched over broad stomachs and bulging haunches. In the sweltering heat of the low desert tourists sweated and headed doggedly for the indoors.
You were not supposed to be on foot in this place in summer, thought Ann. It was called a sidewalk but it was only a margin for cars.
—Are you willing to drop it? she asked. —I mean these people are serious.
Oppenheimer nodded.
—I mean they killed that poor cat, she went on dreamily, and remembered the feel of it in her lap, warm and limp.
—Leo thinks politics are pure science, said Oppenheimer, his rolling, flat-footed gait slowing as they pulled up short to wait for a light. A long white limousine skirted the curb and narrowly missed their toes. He raised his coffee cup and sipped, incongruous on the busy street.
—I think he believes everything can be calculated and managed, said Ann.
—He thinks all rational men will automatically agree with him when he confronts them with the facts. Leo’s not postmodern. How could he be? He doesn’t allow for legitimate differences of opinion. And he doesn’t allow for brutality.
—But you’re going to do what he wants anyway, she said. —Aren’t you.
—Probably. What else is there?
—You could just live, she said idly, not knowing exactly what she meant. —Like the rest of us do.
—He wants me to build us a following.
—Why should that be your job?
—He says I’m better at public speaking than he is. I think he just doesn’t want to do it himself … is this city a joke? It looks like a joke. Isn’t that supposed to be a simulacrum of New York? Does New York City now have a giant roller coaster through it?
—Robert Oppenheimer!
The weeping man from the lobby was standing in front of them, feet planted wide on the sidewalk, waving his arms in the air.
—Let’s turn back, she said swiftly, under her breath. —The only place you’re protected is in the hotel.
—Back to the Nile valley, then, said Oppenheimer, and they swung around. —Let us part the waters.
—Robert Oppenheimer! called the weeping man again, with joy. —I ask nothing more than to walk behind you!
He was gaining on them, loping up to Oppenheimer on his other side.
—So I looked, and behold a pale horse!
—Oh no, said Oppenheimer again.
—And the name of him who sat on it was Death, and Hades followed him!
—Listen, said Oppenheimer, —you have me confused with someone else. I sympathize with your devotion to your faith. It’s commendable. But I’m just a scientist. I think you—
—To him was given the key to the bottomless pit—
—If you’ll just allow me to—
—and smoke arose out of the pit like the smoke of a great furnace!
—Please! Don’t touch me.
—Don’t touch him, echoed Ann, and made a motion in the air as though she was pushing the man away.
—But it’s you! Don’t you understand that? asked the man in a state of great agitation. —You’re the one with the key! You unlocked the
pit of Hades!
—It’s certainly unfortunate.
—You need to just keep your hands to yourself, OK? said Ann, leaning over again to try to intercede. The man was scrabbling at Oppenheimer’s arm.
—In those days men will seek Death and will not find it; they will desire to die, and Death will flee from them.
—It must be from the Bible, said Oppenheimer to Ann.
—No kidding.
—Revelation 9:6, said the man. He was wearing torn jeans and rope sandals and had a goatee and long brown hair. It was he who looked like Jesus, she realized, not Oppenheimer. —Listen to me, Julius Robert! You may not know it yourself, you may refuse to admit it, but I have seen who you are! Why castest thou off my soul? Why hidest thou thy face from me?
—Please, go seek help, said Oppenheimer. —Would you do that for me?
As they pushed through the doors the Jesus man bowed down beside Anubis, touching his toes with his fingers.
—I will lift up my eyes to the hills.
When they got back to the room Szilard was a flurry of activity. He shook a banana in the air as he argued with Larry, who was cringing in his armchair. Leslie sat on the couch, her elbows on her knees, her hands laced together and her chin on her hands, staring rapt.
—This is America. I will not be intimidated!
—But Leo, said Larry, —You could be in danger. And the lawyer dude sounded like he was scared shitless.
—So we’ll hire bodyguards, said Szilard. —Come on, Larry! This is a way of life we’re fighting for! It’s freedom!
—Since when were you a demagogue, Leo, said Oppenheimer, amused, and bent over the room-service cart to pour himself a new cup of coffee.
—All I’m saying is if we can’t speak freely we’re no use.
Ann stepped out the room door onto the walkway and looked over the edge into the yawning chasm of the lobby, with its entire cityscape below, its movie theater, its shops and restaurants. The ceiling stretched high above her. She felt queasy, stepped back from the wall and retreated into the room.
—I wouldn’t mind a few bodyguards, said Oppenheimer. —I could use a break from the gentleman downstairs, I confess.
—Lar! You won’t believe this! squealed Tamika, bursting into the room with a hulking blond man behind her, so tall the upper half of his head was hidden by the door frame. —It’s Big Glen!
—Big Glen! I can’t believe it! cried Larry, and got up to run to the door. He was enfolded in a bear hug. —Where was it last time? Tijuana?
—I found him in the pool, said Tamika. —Can you believe it?
—Let’s finish this in the other room, said Oppenheimer, —excuse us, and he and Szilard and Ann stepped away from the reunion and closed the door behind them.
Ann sat down on the bed wearily while the men stood by the window.
—We have a chain of events, Leo, said Oppenheimer, —that leads us to believe there are real threats to our health and welfare. And not only to Fermi’s and yours and mine, Leo. Others could be hurt too.
—If we let ourselves be intimidated, said Szilard, —we’re nothing.
—Let Larry hire security, said Ann. —And then keep doing what you’re doing. Right, Robert?
Oppenheimer nodded slowly, staring out the window and sipping.
They sat in silence.
—All right, said Szilard finally.
—Hey guys, said Tamika, head in the door. —Wanna try out the jacuzzi?
They shook their heads and she was gone again.
—I used to swim in the ocean off St. John, mused Oppenheimer. —The water was so warm. There were seagrass beds like underwater prairies, and striped fish swimming in them. At the bottom you’d see these big brown rays with rippling wings, just gliding through the waving seaweed. You wanted to go with them. You wanted to be them.
—I forget to tell you! said Szilard. —Look what the courier brought!
He picked up a mailing tube, pulled out a poster and unrolled it: a red-and-black mushroom cloud looming ominously over a sepia-toned landscape.
—That’ll really inspire them, Leo, said Oppenheimer.
—No, wait! It’s three-D!
He turned the poster so that the light fell on it from a different angle, revealing the his own face larger than life. Beside it was Oppenheimer’s and then Fermi’s, the three of them fading into perspective where the mushroom cloud had been.
—Oh my God, said Ann.
—It’s outrageous, said Oppenheimer.
—Get outta here, said Szilard. —It’s great. Are you kidding?
—Must have been expensive, huh? said Oppenheimer.
Szilard shrugged.
—This friend of Larry’s designed it. See? It’s three-D! And we’ve got more of them coming!
—What for? asked Oppenheimer, amused. —It’s very creative, but why would we need more than one?
—We ordered ten thousand.
—What?
—We’re going to be selling them.
—Leo. Are you crazy? Larry bankrolled this?
—It was his idea!
—How about the souvenir concert T-shirts, said Ann.
—They’re coming, said Szilard earnestly.
—I’m speechless, said Oppenheimer.
—So you’re going to be putting on shows? asked Ann.
—Speaking engagements. Press conferences. Demonstrations. We’re also building a web site.
He rocked back on his heels and unfurled the poster in front of him once again, nodding at the depiction of his own face, which worse a benevolent expression. Behind his back Ann and Oppenheimer looked at each other and smiled.
We Are the World, said Ben when she had a chance to call him unobserved. —Next he’s going to start shooting videos for MTV. Scientists hugging each other and swaying in front of the mikes.
—And then a friend of Tamika’s who’s a bouncer from her stripper days showed up, and Larry hired him to head the private security team. He’s supposedly nonviolent. He told me he refuses to raise a hand in anger. He’s such a giant no one ever stands up to him. He’s like seven-feet something.
—If I know Leo they’ll need more security than that. I don’t even work for the government, and I want to kill him.
—How’s Fermi?
—He’s coming to work with me tomorrow.
—Pardon?
—He’s my new employee.
There was a stretch limousine pulled up at the curb, and with Big Glen covering Oppenheimer they all surged out the hotel lobby and headed for the limousine’s open door. —Lloyd George Federal Building! barked Szilard at the chauffeur as they pulled away from the curb.
—Whatcha gonna do there, man, drawled Clint.
—Recruiting, said Szilard.
Around the federal building there were police cars parked, and cops stood idly talking, arms crossed. On the hot cement hippies lay sprawled.
Ann stared out the limo’s rolled-down window.
—It’s a die-in, said Szilard.
—Excuse me? asked Oppenheimer.
—You know, like a sit-in? Except the protesters act dead.
—That’s so cool! said Tamika, reaching for the door to the minibar.
—What’s it for? asked Larry.
—It’s an antinuclear protest! exclaimed Szilard. —What did you think? Just a minute. Wait here!
He grabbed a file folder and bounded out the door to run over to a man in a pink shirt and long beard, who lay near them on his back with his arms and legs spread. Szilard crouched over, talking to him.
—I didn’t know they even had those protests anymore, said Clint. —I thought they went out with Ronald Reagan. But hey man, it’s cool.
—It’s so great, isn’t it? said Leslie.
—They must be roasting, said Tamika. —I mean what is it, a hundred and five out there? Leslie. You want some of this Perrier?
Ann watched Szilard distribute fliers among the dead. When he had got rid of all of the
m he waved at the cops and headed back to the car.
—He’s enthusiastic, isn’t he, said Oppenheimer to Larry.
—The guy’s a whirling dervish! said Clint, sitting behind Larry and Tamika far back in the cavern of the seats.
—He’s very energetic, said Big Glen in his deep, ponderous voice, and nodded slowly.
—Why don’t we invite the dead people out to dinner when they’re done? asked Tamika. —I mean we’re all in this together!
—Please, said Oppenheimer, —I’d like an intimate meal for once, if you don’t mind. Just the fourteen of us.
—So, said Szilard, plumping down heavily and slamming the car door behind him before the chauffeur could get up, —how do you play roulette?
Fermi was not concerned about “wages,” as he called them. His wages could improve as his work did. In the meantime he offered to work for room and board. He owed them already, he said, as Ben drove him to buy fertilizer.
They turned into the parking lot of the plant nursery. Walking into the building they passed a purple Volkswagen Bug, parked at a slant in a handicapped space, and there she was, big hair flying, face obscured by an armful of ferns.
—Oh no, said Ben under his breath. —It’s Sheila. She’s a friend of my wife’s.
—Benny!
—Sheila.
—It’s been so long since I saw you!
She swooped down on them despite the plants in front of her face, long earrings swinging, wearing a shirt with a lot going on. Then her arms were around him, the ferns brushing the backs of his ears, their plastic pots crunching against his back.
—What have you guys been up to? I’ve barely seen Annie since you know when!
—You know when?
—The shooting, she whispered.
—We’re all friends here, said Ben mildly. —You can talk in a normal voice.
—Oh! Right! So who’s this?
As she drew back a fern toppled off her arm, spilling dirt onto the ground and her shoes. Fermi grabbed it.
—He works with me, said Ben.
—He works with you? asked Sheila. —He looks like more of a professor type.
—Listen, it’s good to see you but we should really go, said Ben. —We have to buy some manure.
They played blackjack at five-dollar tables, calling back and forth to each other as they got drunk on cocktails, caught up in the momentum. Finally she quit when she was two hundred dollars ahead on Larry’s dime.
