oud resembled a national promotion for death； a multimillion…dollar campaign backed by radio spots； heavy print and billboard； TV saturation。 There was a high…tension discharge of vivid light。 The horn…blowing increased in volume。
I recalled with a shock that I was technically dead。 The interview with the SIMUVAC technician came back to me in terrible detail。 I felt sick on several levels。
There was nothing to do but try to get the family to safety。 I kept pushing toward the headlights； the sound of blowing horns。 Wilder was asleep； planing in uniform spaces。 I hit the accelerator； jerked the wheel； arm…wrestled the car through a stand of white pine。
Through his mask Heinrich said； 〃Did you ever really look at your eye？〃
〃What do you mean？〃 Denise said； showing immediate interest； as though we were lazing away a midsummer day on the front porch。
〃Your own eye。 Do you know which part is which？〃
〃You mean like the iris； the pupil？〃
〃Those are the publicized parts。 What about the vitreous body？ What about the lens？ The lens is tricky。 How many people even know they have a lens？ They think 'lens' must be 'camera。'〃
〃What about the ear？〃 Denise said in a muffled voice。
〃If the eye is a mystery； totally forget the ear。 Just say 'cochlea' to somebody； they look at you like； 'Who's this guy？' There's this whole world right inside our own body。〃
〃Nobody even cares；〃 she said。
〃How can people live their whole lives without knowing the names of their own parts of the body？〃
〃What about the glands？〃 she said。
〃Animal glands you can eat。 The Arabs eat glands。〃
〃The French eat glands；〃 Babette said through gauze。 'The Arabs eat eyes； speaking of eyes。〃
〃What parts？〃 Denise said。
'The whole eye。 The sheep eye。〃
'They don't eat the lashes；〃 Heinrich said。
〃Do sheep have lashes？〃 Steffie said。
〃Ask your father；〃 Babette said。
The car forded a creek which I didn't know was there until we were in it。 I struggled to get us over the opposite bank。 Snow fell thickly through the high beams。 The muffled dialogue went on。 I reflected that our current predicament seemed to be of merely glancing interest to some of us。 I wanted them to pay attention to the toxic event。 I wanted to be appreciated for my efforts in getting us to the parkway。 I thought of telling them about the puter tally； the time…factored death I carried in my chromosomes and blood。 Self…pity oozed through my soul。 I tried to relax and enjoy it。
〃I'll give anybody in this car five dollars；〃 Heinrich said through his protective mask； 〃if you can tell me whether more people died building the pyramids in Egypt or building the Great Wall of China—and you have to say how many died in each place； within fifty people。〃
I followed three snowmobiles across an open field。 They conveyed a mood of clever fun。 The toxic event was still in view； chemical tracers shooting in slow arcs out of its interior。 We passed families on foot； saw a line of paired red lights winding through the dark。 When we edged out of the woods； people in other cars gave us sleepy looks。 It took ninety minutes to reach the parkway； another thirty to get to the cloverleaf； where we spun off toward Iron City。 It was here that we met up with the group from the Kung Fu Palace。 Tooting horns； waving children。 Like wagon trains converging on the Santa Fe Trail。 The cloud still hung in the rearview mirror。
Krylon； Rust…Oleum； Red Devil。
We reached Iron City at dawn。 There were checkpoints at all the road exits。 State troopers and Red Cross workers handed out mimeographed instructions concerning evacuation centers。 Half an hour later we found ourselves； with forty other families； in an abandoned karate studio on the top floor of a four…story building on the main street。 There were no beds or chairs。 Steffie refused to take off her mask。
By nine a。m。 we had a supply of air mattresses； some food and coffee。 Through the dusty windows we saw a group of turbaned schoolchildren； members of the local Sikh munity； standing in the street with a hand…lettered sign： IRON CITY WELES AREA EVACUEES。 We were not allowed to leave the building。
On the wall of the studio there were poster…size illustrations of the six striking surfaces of the human hand。
At noon a rumor swept the city。 Technicians were being lowered in slings from army helicopters in order to plant microorganisms in the core of the toxic cloud。 These organisms were genetic rebinations that had a built…in appetite for the particular toxic agents in Nyodene D。 They would literally consume the billowing cloud； eat it up； break it down； depose it。
This stunning innovation； so similar in nature to something we might e across in the National Enquirer or the Star； made us feel a little weary； glutted in an insubstantial way； as after a junk food spree。 I wandered through the room； as I'd done in the Boy Scout barracks； moving from one conversational knot to another。 No one seemed to know how a group of microorganisms could consume enough toxic material to rid the sky of such a dense and enormous cloud。 No one knew what would happen to the toxic waste once it was eaten or to the microorganisms once they were finished eating。
Everywhere in the room children were striking mock karate poses。 When I got back to our area； Babette sat alone in a scarf and knitted cap。
〃I don't like this latest rumor；〃 she said。
〃Too far…fetched？ You think there's no chance a bunch of organisms can eat their way through the toxic event。〃
〃I think there's every chance in the world。 I don't doubt for a minute they have these little organisms packaged in cardboard with plastic see…through bubbles； like ballpoint refills。 That's what worries me。〃
〃The very existence of custom…made organisms。〃
'The very idea； the very existence； the wondrous ingenuity。 On the one hand I definitely admire it。 Just to think there are people out there who can conjure such things。 A cloud…eating microbe or whatever。 There is just no end of surprise。 All the amazement that's left in the world is microscopic。 But I can live with that。 What scares me is have they thought it through pletely？〃
〃You feel a vague foreboding；〃 I said。
〃I feel they're working on the superstitious part of my nature。 Every advance is worse than the one before because it makes me more scared。〃
〃Scared of what？〃
〃The sky； the earth； I don't know。〃
〃The greater the scientific advance； the more primitive the fear。〃
〃Why is that？〃 she said。
At three p。m。 Steffie was still wearing the protective mask。 She walked along the walls； a set of pale green eyes； discerning； alert； secretive。 She watched people as if they could not see her watching； as if the mask covered her eyes instead of leaving them exposed。 People thought she was playing a game。 They winked at her； said hi。 I was certain it would take at least another day before she felt safe enough to remove the protective device。 She was solemn about warnings； interpreted danger as a state too lacking in detail and precision to be confined to a certain time and place。 I knew we would simply have to wait for her to forget the amplified voice； the sirens； the night ride through the woods。 In the meantime the mask； setting off her eyes； dramatized her sensitivity to episodes of stress and alarm。 It seemed to bring her closer to the real concerns of the world； honed her in its wind。
At seven p。m。 a man carrying a tiny TV set began to walk slowly through the room； making a speech as he went。 He was middle…aged or older； a clear…eyed and erect man wearing a fur…lined cap with lowered flaps。 He held the TV set well up in the air and out away from his body and during the course of his speech he turned pletely around several times as he walked in order to display the blank screen to all of us in the room。
〃There's nothing on network；〃 he said to us。 〃Not a word； not a picture。 On the Glassboro channel we rate fifty…two words by actual count。 No film footage； no live report。 Does this kind of thing happen so often that nobody cares anymore？ Don't those people know what we've been through？ We were scared to death。 We still are。 We left our homes； we drove through blizzards； we saw the cloud。 It was a deadly specter； right there above us。 Is it possible nobody gives substantial coverage to such a thing？ Half a minute； twenty seconds？ Are they telling us it was insignificant； it was piddling？ Are they so callous？ Are they so bored by spills and contaminations and wastes？ Do they think this is just television？ 'There's too much television already—why show more？' Don't they know it's real？ Shouldn't the streets be crawling with cameramen and soundmen and reporters？ Shouldn't we be yelling out the window at them； 'Leave us alone； we've been through enough； get out of here with your vile instruments of intrusion。' Do they have to have two hundred dead； rare disaster footage； before they e flocking to a given site in their helicopters and network limos？ What exactly has to happen before they stick microphones in our faces and hound us to the doorsteps of our homes； camping out on our lawns； creating the usual media circus？ Haven't we earned the right to despise their idiot questions？ Look at us in this place。 We are quarantined。 We are like lepers in medieval times。 They won't let us out of here。 They leave food at the foot of the stairs and tiptoe away to safety。 This is the most terrifying time of our lives。 Everything we love and have worked for is under serious threat。 But we look around and see no response from the official organs of the media。 The airborne toxic event is a horrifying thing。 Our fear is enormous。 Even if there hasn't been great loss of life； don't we deserve some attention for our suffering； our human worry； our terror？ Isn't fear news？〃
Applause。 A sustained burst of shouting and hand…clapping。 The speaker slowly turned one more time； displaying the little TV to his audience。 When he pleted his turn； he was face to face with me； no more than ten inches away。 A change came over his wind…beaten face； a slight befuddlement； the shock of some minor fact jarred loose。
〃I saw this before；〃 he finally said to me。
〃S