js&cs.thebridge-第6节

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　the　righteous　deployed；　flocking　en　masse　to　their　respective　personal　savior　pit　stops。
　　From　the　Mennonite　farms　at　the　county's　edge　to　the　African　Episcopal　Church　downtown；　the　children　of　God　made　their　holy　presence　known。　Between　the　hours　of　nine　and　noon；　they　virtually　owned　the　roads：　station　wagons；　packed　to　the　gills　with　Baptists；　Brethren；　and　Bible　Fellows；　drive…thru　windows；　dispensing　Sausage　and　Egg　McMuffins　by　the　truckload　to　Methodists　and　Mormons　alike；　gas　stations；　meeting　the　motoring　needs　of　Catholics；　Christian　Scientists；　Seventh…Day　Adventists；　and　Assemblymen　of　God。
　　Austin　Deitz　stood　at　the　back　of　the　Mt。　Rose　Amoco　Shop　'N'　Go；　where　Route　24　crossed　Mt。　Rose　Avenue　at　the　mouth　of　the　eastern　valley。　He　was　perusing　the　Yummy　Potato　Chip　snack　rack　while　he　waited　for　Jennie　to　return。
　　She'd　disappeared　behind　the　Employees　Only　door　ten　minutes　ago。　As　store　manager；　she'd　been　torn　from　her　bed　and　called　in　to　troubleshoot　the　latest　crisis：　some　loser　named　Ozzie　who'd　called　in　sick　at　the　very　last　minute　with　tickets　for　the　Eagles　game。
　　That　Ozzie　now　ranked　among　the　unemployed　was　no　consolation　at　all。　Only　Ozzie's　ability　to　deep…six　their　Sunday　plans　held　even　the　remotest　level　of　interest　for　him。　It　was；　after　all；　a　very　special　occasion。
　　Their　fourth…count　'em；　fourth…anniversary。
　　Four　solid　weeks　together；　Deitz　mused；　smiling。　My　God。　That's　practically　a　whole　month！　Somebody　alert　the　media！
　　Almost　an　entire　month　where　you　could　virtually　call　me　happy。
　　Austin　Deitz　was　a　month　shy　of　forty；　a　tall　gangly　man　with　knobby　calloused　hands　and　a　face　like　a　young　Abe　Lincoln's。　He　had　the　same　intense　dark　eyes　and　severe；　gaunt　hollows　to　his　cheeks；　the　same　shock　of　cowlicked　hair　and　horsey　overbite。　The　only　things　he　lacked　were　the　beard　and　the　bullet　hole；　and　he　was　in　no　great　hurry　to　acquire　either　one。
　　He　was　not　exactly　what　he'd　consider　a　love　machine；　but　Jennie　didn't　seem　to　mind。　In　fact；　ever　since　their　eyes　met　over　the　barbecue　chicken　pit　at　the　Stoverstown　Fire　pany's　Fall　Festival；　she'd　changed　his　mind　about　a　lot　of　things。
　　Jennie　Quirez　was　slight　and　slender；　with　a　broad　yet　delicate　face　framed　by　warm　mahogany　hair　and　offset　by　the　clearest；　finest　deep　brown　eyes　he'd　ever　seen。　She　was　either　late　twenties　or　early　thirties…Deitz　hadn't　gotten　around　to　asking　yet；　though　he　didn't　think　she'd　mind…far　enough　along；　anyway；　for　her　rich　tan　plexion　to　take　on　the　supple；　slightly　leathery　etch　of　time。
　　She　smiled　a　lot　and　didn't　take　an　ounce　of　shit　from　anyone；　a　bination　that　Deitz　found　irresistible。　She　was　also；　as　if　that　wasn't　enough；　a　pulsive　reader　of　science　fiction；　whose　childhood　dream　was　to　be　an　astronaut　one　day。　For　a　kid　who　grew　up　thinking　that　Heinlein　and　Bradbury　were　gods；　there　could　not　have　been　a　more　perfect　wish…fulfillment　fantasy　than　a　girl　who　knew　what　to　grok　in　fullness　really　meant；　or　who　could　savor　both　the　strange　peace　and　melancholic　beauty　of　a　book　like　The　Martian　Chronicles　and　the　icy；　hardwired　edginess　of　Gibson's　Neuromancer。
　　But　the　sf　she　loved　most　was　fundamentally　optimistic；　like　herself。　She　liked　to　believe　that　there　really　were　other　species　out　there　somewhere…intelligent；　kind；　benevolent　species…and　that　one　day　we'd　actually　evolve　enough　to　join　them　in　the　stars。
　　Moreover；　she　liked　to　encourage　those　qualities　in　people　here　on　Earth；　for　what　she　felt　were　pretty　obvious　reasons：　a）　to　help　us　evolve　just　a　little　bit　faster；　b）　because；　quite　simply；　life　was　better　when　you　treated　people　right；　and　c）　because　the　odds　were　good　that；　given　her　current　career　trajectory；　she'd　never　actually　make　it　into　space。
　　She'll　find　someone　to　work；　he　told　himself。　Just　have　a　little　faith。　You've　got　the　Baltimore　Aquarium　and　the　Inner　Harbor　waiting；　then　dinner　at　Dobson's　and　a　room　at　the　Hunt　Valley　Inn。　Which　is　to　say：　you　cannot　fail。
　　Keep　playing　your　cards　right。　And　pray　for　a　miracle。
　　Today　just　might　be　the　best　day　of　your　life。
　　And；　of　course；　it　was　true。　Or　at　least　it　might　be。　Certainly；　every　Sunday　since　he'd　first　met　Jennie　had　been　better　than　the　last。　It　was　the　first　time；　in　what　felt　like　forever；　that　Deitz　had　gotten　so　tight　with　somebody　so　quickly。
　　It　was　kind　of　like　falling　in　love。
　　Which　was　an　awful　lot　like　a　miracle　in　itself。
　　In　the　meantime；　Deitz　cruised　the　aisles　aimlessly；　waiting。　There　wasn't　a　nontoxic　unit　of　food　in　the　whole　goddam　store…not　Jennie's　fault；　she　was　a　manager；　not　a　buyer…but　that　didn't　stop　a　dozen　consumers　from　stocking　up　on　nutritionless；　oversalted；　or　sugar…crammed　delights。　Deitz　watched　them　mill　about；　paring　poisons：　it　was　a　desperate　bid；　on　his　part；　to　take　his　mind　off　his　sudden　apprehension。
　　He　glanced　at　the　data　pager　tucked　onto　his　belt；　its　tiny　power　light　forever　glowing。　What　if　something　happens？　he　thought　gloomily；　watching　Dobson's　and　the　Hunt　Valley　Inn　sprout　wings　and　flutter　away　without　them。
　　The　beeper　remained　both　alert　and　mercifully　silent。
　　Okay；　then；　he　thought。　What　if　she　can't　find　a　sub　。。。　？
　　〃Now　stop；〃　he　interrupted　himself。　〃You　promised；　remember？　Today；　nothing　gets　to　you。　You're　the　happiest　man　on　earth。〃
　　But　some　things　were　far　easier　said　than　done。
　　There　was　a　dull…eyed　girl　behind　the　counter；　sitting　on　a　stool。　She　was　jamming　a　Tastykake　into　her　mouth　as　she　rang　up　a　PTL　housewife　with　a　pile　of　fudge　brownies　stacked　like　poker　chips　before　her。　Pat；　the　girl's　tacky　plastic　name　tag　read。　Hi！　My　name　is　Pat。
　　For　a　moment；　in　the　flat；　fluorescent　glare；　Pat's　puffed　fishbelly　features　seemed　to　somehow　white　out　and　magically　transform：　the　rounded　shoulders　and　rippling　buttocks　melding　into　the　stool；　erasing　her　identity　entirely；　until　she　became　one　great；　pale；　lumpen　pyramid　of　consumption　incarnate。
　　And　for　that　moment　of　fancy；　Deitz　stared　in　mock　horror　as　he　pictured　her：　a　gruesome　Eating　Machine；　the　cake　disappearing　down　her　champing　maw　like　a　log　feeding　into　a　tree　shredder。
　　And；　of　course；　the　fact　that　it　wasn't　just　any　Tastykake；　but　a　Kreme…Filled　Krummy　Kake；　only　made　things　better。　That　way；　on　top　of　everything　else；　Pat　was　sure　to　get　her　minimum　daily　adult　requirements　of　mono…calcium　phosphate；　mono　and　diglycerides；　calcium　lactate　and　propylene　glycol　monostearate。　To　name　only　a　few。
　　A　plete　and　balanced　breakfast。
　　For　a　dumb　and　dying　race。
　　〃Blech；〃　he　muttered；　forcing　himself　to　look　away。
　　It　was　impolite　to　stare；　but　he　couldn't　always　help　it。　It　was　just　so　hard　to　believe　that　people　were　so　oblivious。　It　had　been　ages　since　he'd　allowed　himself　such　luxurious　ignorance。
　　In　a　world　of　shit；　it　was　tough　to　remain　untainted；　but　Austin　Deitz　did　what　he　could。　He　disdained　BHA　and　BHT；　propyl　gallate　and　yellow　5；　which　put　the　nix　on　everything　from　Snickers　bars　to　Starburst　fruit　chews。　He　steered　clear　of　sodium　benzoate；　which　effectively　ruled　out　virtually　every　quaff　in　the　establishment；　from　orange　drink　and　iced　tea　all　the　way　to　Mountain　Dew。　He　didn't　even　want　to　think　about　the　secret　ingredients　left　unlabeled　on　their　lunch…meat　subs　and　ballpark　franks。
　　The　Yummy　Potato　Chip　folks　were　another　story：　a　local　outfit；　which　made　big　book　on　ladling　out　fewer　preservatives　than　their　nationally　known　petitors。　All　the　same；　when　it　came　down　to　the　taste　buds；　they　were　still　drawing　from　the　same　old　bag　of　tricks：　a　little　calcium　silicate；　monosodium　glutamate；　sodium　acetate；　and　fumaric　acid　to　suggest　salt　'n'　vinegar　or　bring　out　the　zing　in　those　〃natural　smoke　flavors。〃
　　Which　pretty　much　left　him　with　the　unsalted　peanuts　and　imported　mountain　spring　water；　both　packaged　in　nonrecyclable　plastic　that　was　destined　to　outlast　his　greatgrandchildren's　grandchildren。　That　is；　assuming　that　he　ever　had　kids。
　　Which　was　pletely　out　of　the　question。
　　And　this　was　where　he　was　constantly　forced　to　defend　himself：　from　his　parents；　from　the　women　who　loved　him；　from　the　guys　he　grew　up　with　who　constantly　tried　to　steer　him　toward　a　Normal　Life。　It　wasn't　that　Deitz　was　just　some　random；　paranoid　pain…in…the…ass；　that　he　didn't　like　Christians；　or　snack　cakes；　or　kids。　The　truth　was　both　simpler　and　harder　to　swallow。
　　Austin　Deitz　worked　the　Hazardous　Materials　squad。
　　And　he　had　seen　too　much。
　　Normally；　HazMat　was　a　younger　man's　work；　but　to　Deitz　it　was　his　mission　and　the　meaning　of　his　life。　He　had　started　out　years　ago；　a　simple　fireman　wanting　to　save　lives　and　be　challenged；　fighting　the　often　cruel　caprices　of　nature。　The　drift　to　HazMat　was　a　slow　but　inexorable　one；　like　getting　crushed　by　a　train　that　takes　ten　years　to　get　there。　And　yet　he　never　felt　that　he　had　any　other　choice。
　　Because　if　you　were　privileged　to　see　the　slow；　insidious　poisoning　of　the　planet；　you　did　what　you　could　to　stop　it。　Even　if　it　wasn't　enough…even　if　nothing　could　ever　be　enough…you　did　what　you　could；　because　what　else　could　you　do？
　　Once　you　knew；　there　was　no　unknowing。
　　On