Richard resumes his vigil on the rocks under the sky gone insane. He shivers and his legs are numb with cold. Richard gets to thinkinghe gets to thinking there must be all of these people everywhere on Earth, eager, no desperate for just the smallest sign that there issomething finer or larger or more miraculous about ourselves than we had supposed. How can I give them a spark? he wonders. How can I hold their hands and pull them all through flames and rock walls and icebergs? With our acts we will shock and captivate them into new ways of thinking.
He hears Karen's voice once one last time; she has climbed the mountain and she says, " You are the future, and the eternity, and the everything. You're indeed what comes next. I'm going now. It's my time to leave. YesI can feel myself leaving. You'll change the world. Good-bye, guys."
In London the supermodels wear Prada and the photographers snap their photos. The young princes read their Guinness Book of World Records. In California, meetings are held and salad is picked at. Across the globe hydro dams generate electricity and radio towers send powerful signals out into the heavens advertising Fiat Pandas and creme rinses. Golden lights oscillate wildly. Giant receiving dishes rotate and scour the universe for voices and miracles. And why shouldn't they? The world indeed awakens: The Ginza throbs and businessmen vomit into Suntory whiskey boxes to the giggles of Siberian party girlsthe excitement and glamour and seduction of progresscities shine: cities of gold and tin and lead and birch and Teflon, molybdenum, and diamonds that gleam and gleam and gleam.
Near dawn, Richard feels the tremorsthe world resuming. There is an enormous camera flash. He can feel it happeningthe world returns.
And suddenly it's almost sunrise. A final flash of light alarms a school of spawning salmon huddled in the watera maroon, collective brain huddled underneath the rocks. Richard tries to imagine their collective thinkingthe one idea they want to put forth.
Richard thinks of his life and his world once more: No, my daughter is not confused and angry and lost on drugs. No, she doesn't hate me for all that I've forgotten or neglected or failed to do for her. No, the woman
I love is not a papery husk of a woman, breathing shallow thimbles ofair as her gray hair crackles and her body turns to leather and bone. My friends are not lonely and tired and dried-up and sad. And I'm not just fooling myself, either. That's all overwe made the trade.
Richard thinks about being alive at this particular juncture in history and he can only marvelto be alive at this wondrous pointthis jumping-off point toward farther reaches. The things he'll see and feeleven the tiny moments like the Moon mural in Karen's old bedroom or satellite weather mapsit's all such a tiny bit of what comes next.
His mind races: Think about all those crazy people you see on the streets. Maybe they aren't crazy at all. Maybe they've seen what we've seenmaybe those people are us.
Us.
You'll soon be seeing us walking down your street, our backs held proud, our eyes dilated with truth and power. We might look like you, but you should know better. We'll draw our line in the sand and force the world to cross our line. Every cell in our body explodes with the truth. We will be kneeling in front of the Safeway, atop out-of-date textbooks whose pages we have chewed out. We'll be begging passersby to see the need to question and question and question and never stop questioning until the world stops spinning. We'll be adults who smash the tired, exhausted system. We'll crawl and chew and dig our way into a radical new world. We will change minds and souls from stone and plastic into linen and goldthat's what I believe. That's what I know.