Forty signs of rain - Kim Stanley Robinson [123]
And all the while on a sidewalk over the abyss. There are islands of time when things seem stable. Nothing much happens but the rounds of the week. Later the islands break apart. When enough time has passed, no one now alive will still be here; everyone will be different. Then it will be the stories that will link the generations, history and DNA, long chains of the simplest bits—guanine, adenine, cytosine, thymine—love, hope, fear, selfishness—all recombining again and again, until a miracle happens
and the organism springs forth!
CHARLIE, AWAKENED by the sound of a loud alarm, leapt to his feet and stood next to his bed, hands thrown out like a nineteenth-century boxer.
“What?” he shouted at the loud noise.
It was not an alarm. It was Joe in the room, wailing. He stared at his father amazed. “Ba.”
“Jesus, Joe.” The itchiness began to burn across Charlie’s chest and arms. He had tossed and turned in misery most of the night, as he had every night since encountering the poison ivy. He had probably fallen asleep only an hour or two before. “What time is it. Joe, it’s not even seven! Don’t yell like that. All you have to do is tap me on the shoulder if I’m asleep, and say, ‘Good morning Dad, can you warm up a bottle for me?’”
Joe approached and tapped his leg, staring peacefully at him. “Mo Da. Wa ba.”
“Wow Joe. Really good! Say, I’ll get your bottle warmed up right away! Very good! Hey listen, have you pooped in your diaper yet? You might want to pull it down and sit on your own toilet in the bathroom like a big boy, poop like Nick and then come on down to the kitchen and your bottle will be ready. Doesn’t that sound good?”
“Ga Da.” Joe trundled off toward the bathroom.
Charlie, amazed, padded after Joe and descended the stairs as gently as he could, hoping not to stimulate his itches. In the kitchen the air was delightfully cool and silky. Nick was there reading a book. Without looking up he said, “I want to go down to the park and play.”
“I thought you had homework to do.”
“Well, sort of. But I want to play.”
“Why don’t you do your homework first and then play, that way when you play you’ll be able to really enjoy it.”
Nick cocked his head. “That’s true. Okay, I’ll go do my homework first.” He slipped out, book under his arm.
“Oh, and take your shoes up to your room while you’re on your way.”
“Sure Dad.”
Charlie stared at his reflection in the side of the stove hood. His eyes were round.
“Hmm,” he said. He got Joe’s bottle in its pot, stuck an earphone in his left ear. “Phone, give me Phil…. Hello, Phil, look I wanted to catch you while the thought was fresh, I was thinking that if only we tried to introduce the Chinese aerosols bill again, then we could catch the whole air problem at a kind of fulcrum point and either start a process that would finish with the coal plants here on the East Coast, or else it would serve as a stalking horse, see what I mean?”
“So you’re saying we go after the Chinese again?”
“Well yeah, but as part of your whole package of efforts.”
“And then it either works or it doesn’t work, but gives us some leverage we can use elsewhere? Hmm, good idea Charlie, I’d forgotten that bill, but it was a good one. I’ll give that a try. Call Roy and tell him to get it ready.”
“Sure Phil, consider it done.”
Charlie took the bottle out of the pot and dried it. Joe appeared in the door, naked, holding up his diaper for Charlie’s inspection.
“Wow Joe, very good! You pooped in your toilet? Very, very good, here’s your bottle all ready, what a perfect kind of Pavlovian reward.”
Joe snatched the bottle from Charlie’s hand