White Noise - Don Delillo [123]
“But don’t I have to believe? Don’t I have to feel in my heart that there is something, genuinely, beyond this life, out there, looming, in the dark?”
“What do you think the afterlife is, a body of facts just waiting to be uncovered? Do you think the U.S. Air Force is secretly gathering data on the afterlife and keeping it under wraps because we’re not mature enough to accept the findings? The findings would cause panic? No. I’ll tell you what the afterlife is. It’s a sweet and terribly touching idea. You can take it or leave it. In the meantime what you have to do is survive an assassination attempt. That would be an instant tonic. You would feel specially favored, you would grow in charisma.”
“You said earlier that death was making me grow in charisma. Besides, who would want to kill me?”
Once more he shrugged. “Survive a train wreck in which a hundred die. Get thrown clear when your single-engine Cessna crashes on a golf course after striking a power line in heavy rain just minutes after takeoff. It doesn’t have to be assassination. The point is you’re standing at the edge of a smoldering ruin where others lie inert and twisted. This can counteract the effect of any number of nebulous masses, at least for a time.”
We window-shopped a while, then went into a shoe store. Murray looked at Weejuns, Wallabees, Hush Puppies. We wandered out into the sun. Children in strollers squinted up at us, appearing to think we were something strange.
“Has your German helped?”
“I can’t say it has.”
“Has it ever helped?”
“I can’t say. I don’t know. Who knows these things?”
“What have you been trying to do all these years?”
“Put myself under a spell, I guess.”
“Correct. Nothing to be ashamed of, Jack. It’s only your fear that makes you act this way.”
“Only my fear? Only my death?”
“We shouldn’t be surprised at your lack of success. How powerful did the Germans prove to be? They lost the war, after all.”
“That’s what Denise said.”
“You’ve discussed this with the children?”
“Superficially.”
“Helpless and fearful people are drawn to magical figures, mythic figures, epic men who intimidate and darkly loom.”
“You’re talking about Hitler, I take it.”
“Some people are larger than life. Hitler is larger than death. You thought he would protect you. I understand completely.”
“Do you? Because I wish I did.”
“It’s totally obvious. You wanted to be helped and sheltered. The overwhelming horror would leave no room for your own death. ‘Submerge me,’ you said. ‘Absorb my fear.’ On one level you wanted to conceal yourself in Hitler and his works. On another level you wanted to use him to grow in significance and strength. I sense a confusion of means. Not that I’m criticizing. It was a daring thing you did, a daring thrust. To use him. I can admire the attempt even as I see how totally dumb it was, although no dumber than wearing a charm or knocking wood. Six hundred million Hindus stay home from work if the signs are not favorable that morning. So I’m not singling you out.”
“The vast and terrible depth.”
“Of course,” he said.
“The inexhaustibility.”
“I understand.”
“The whole huge nameless thing.”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“The massive darkness.”
“Certainly, certainly.”
“The whole terrible endless hugeness.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
He tapped the fender of a diagonally parked car, half smiling.
“Why have you failed, Jack?”
“A confusion of means.”
“Correct. There are numerous ways to get around death. You tried to employ two of them at once. You stood out on the one hand and tried to hide on the other. What is the name we give to this attempt?”
“Dumb.”
I followed him into the supermarket. Blasts of color, layers of oceanic sound. We walked under a bright banner announcing a raffle to raise money for some incurable disease. The wording seemed to indicate that the winner would get the disease. Murray likened the banner to a Tibetan prayer flag.
“Why have I had this fear so long, so consistently?”
“It’s obvious. You don’t know how to repress. We’re all aware there’s no escape from