White Noise - Don Delillo [58]
“It’s happening everywhere, isn’t it?”
“More or less,” I said.
“And what’s the government doing about it?”
“Nothing.”
“You said it, I didn’t. There’s only one word in the language to describe what’s being done and you found it exactly. I’m not surprised at all. But when you think about it, what can they do? Because what is coming is definitely coming. No government in the world is big enough to stop it. Does a man like yourself know the size of India’s standing army?”
“One million.”
“I didn’t say it, you did. One million soldiers and they can’t stop it. Do you know who’s got the biggest standing army in the world?”
“It’s either China or Russia, although the Vietnamese ought to be mentioned.”
“Tell me this,” he said. “Can the Vietnamese stop it?”
“No.”
“It’s here, isn’t it? People feel it. We know in our bones. God’s kingdom is coming.”
He was a rangy man with sparse hair and a gap between his two front teeth. He squatted easily, seemed loose-jointed and comfortable. I realized he was wearing a suit and tie with running shoes.
“Are these great days?” he said.
I studied his face, trying to find a clue to the right answer.
“Do you feel it coming? Is it on the way? Do you want it to come?”
He bounced on his toes as he spoke.
“Wars, famines, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions. It’s all beginning to jell. In your own words, is there anything that can stop it from coming once it picks up momentum?”
“No.”
“You said it, I didn’t. Floods, tornados, epidemics of strange new diseases. Is it a sign? Is it the truth? Are you ready?”
“Do people really feel it in their bones?” I said.
“Good news travels fast.”
“Do people talk about it? On your door-to-door visits, do you get the impression they want it?”
“It’s not do they want it. It’s where do I go to sign up. It’s get me out of here right now. People ask, ‘Is there seasonal change in God’s kingdom?’ They ask, ‘Are there bridge tolls and returnable bottles?’ In other words I’m saying they’re getting right down to it.”
“You feel it’s a ground swell.”
“A sudden gathering. Exactly put. I took one look and I knew. This is a man who understands.”
“Earthquakes are not up, statistically.”
He gave me a condescending smile. I felt it was richly deserved, although I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was prissy to be quoting statistics in the face of powerful beliefs, fears, desires.
“How do you plan to spend your resurrection?” he said, as though asking about a long weekend coming up.
“We all get one?”
“You’re either among the wicked or among the saved. The wicked get to rot as they walk down the street. They get to feel their own eyes slide out of their sockets. You’ll know them by their stickiness and lost parts. People tracking slime of their own making. All the flashiness of Armageddon is in the rotting. The saved know each other by their neatness and reserve. He doesn’t have showy ways is how you know a saved person.”
He was a serious man, he was matter-of-fact and practical, down to his running shoes. I wondered about his eerie self-assurance, his freedom from doubt. Is this the point of Armageddon? No ambiguity, no more doubt. He was ready to run into the next world. He was forcing the next world to seep into my consciousness, stupendous events that seemed matter-of-fact to him, self-evident, reasonable, imminent, true. I did not feel Armageddon in my bones but I worried about all those people who did, who were ready for it, wishing hard, making phone calls and bank withdrawals. If enough people want it to happen, will it happen? How many people are enough people? Why are we talking to each other from this aboriginal crouch?
He handed me a pamphlet called “Twenty Common Mistakes About the End of the World.” I struggled out of the squatting posture, feeling dizziness and back-pain. At the front of the hall a woman