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People say it gets cold at night in the desert. That's a lie. It's still almost as hot as ever and you can feel your body drying out with every passing hour. Parts of you start to hurt in a way you wouldn't think. Your kidneys start to ache, and sweating gives you a feeling of dread that you are losing water and dying slowly. Night time is when you're most able to move about, not only because it is slightly cooler (but not much) but because as you dehydrate, daylight becomes more painful to look at. At night you don't have to squint.
The sun quickly climbs in the sky. In another world and several time zones away it's 4 o'clock on a Sunday in Surburbia. Weary couples are drawing the curtains for their afternoon delight. The morning starts well, coming across an animal that has died in the night. Eat the eyes first, they contain the most water. A real treat.
Just a speck on the horizon, that's a human being you have there. Out for a sabbatical. In the desert Think about what you're missing back in Ruislip. Same boring train to the same boring office, waiting to die. Great idea. Now you're waiting to die and the only difference is it's not f**king raining every day. Engine caught fire in the 4x4 and water was contaminated. Undrinkable. The map showed a construction across the depression. Nearer than the main highway. Only 15 miles. That 15 miles has already taken two days. Lousy map. You start talking to yourself. But it hurts your dried throat.
Feet are bleeding now, boots gave out last night. They were chafing the raw flesh so threw them away. They seemed to weigh a ton. Sun rising higher, looking towards the mountains it might just be another day until shade. Nowhere to sleep out here. What do all these snakes live on? If I could catch one of those... mouth watering again with what's left of saliva.
Over a rise in the sand, pain in legs increasing. A strange bump is chafing on the inside of denim. Rectal prolapse. Total dehydration. Doctors? Out here? Don't know what's worse. The pain of chafing skin or the fear of a slow death.
Disheveled, bloody, burnt, you'd hardly recognize yourself. Like when Winston Smith was shown himself in the mirror in 1984 after days of torture. Who is that? It's not me. Sand. Everywhere. It gets in your mouth, up your dick. Stony sand. Sharp stones like razor blades. It scratches like a thousand fleas. You bleed. You seem to be bleeding from everywhere.
Could that be it? Its very far away. Last remaining strength now, ought to get there by nightfall. OW! My back! Its been two days since you were this upright. That has to be it. It's shimmering. It appears again. F**k you God, is this some kind of a sick joke. Bloody heat haze. I want to see it. I want to think its there.
Well, its something to head for. Cant be much more than 3 or 4 miles away. Its man made. Will you make it? Just the effort of knowing there is something there makes you feel weak.
Maureen, the kids, I never said goodbye to them properly. Down at Heathrow, that bomb scare, huge queues for check in whisked through Customs, such a crush of people, had to run to catch the plane. Wanted to say goodbye properly. Arseholes. Working late the night before for that wanker of a boss. Could've been with Maureen. Saying goodbye. I'm going to die before I get to this thing and I couldn't even say goodbye to my kids. Whoever you are I hope you get blown up by your own bomb. I hope it takes your legs off. If I get back I'm going to bomb that stinking company. I'll see the kids more often in prison than working for those c**ts. Its not getting any nearer. Must have been dragging myself along all day.
What was that song? 'I've been through the desert on a horse with no name, it felt good to keep out of the rain'. Who was it by? Someone with a sick sense of humour. 4000 miles in a plane to this country and I cant walk 4 miles in less than a day. 'Have a nice day now' Gods Country. Wide open spaces and 2 dollars to the pound. 'Its a chance of a lifetime, get out and see the place, it's only for a fortnight'. Maureen's been good to me, putting up with these wild excursions. Climbing in Scotland in January, that time when me and the boys sailed to France and nearly got killed by a ferry in the fog. Always home to Maureen. Somewhere to go. A man needs a rock to cling to. She doesn't know how bloody patient she'll have to be this time around. Little Jane was meant to start school the week after I got back. She wont be able to come home and tell Dad about her first day. If I could find the bloke that sold me that water I'd make him drink every stinking dieseley drop of it. Even now though I wish I'd bought some with me. I could drink Diesel right now.
It's getting nearer. Back to the present. Here and Now boys here and now. Where did that pop in from? That was a crap book. Must've been. Whets here and now got? bloody feet and a stomach like a walnut. Crawling to the shade of that thing to die quietly. What the f**k is that thing?
Something concrete. A cake. Rubber. Delirious. Christian Rock Group. Its a Rock, full of Christians. It's the bloody 2001 monolith. Is this what is feels like to go mad? 2001. A space oddity. Ha! That was the Emu Broadcasting company version. Rod Hull must have been quite lonely. Turning up to things with Emu in a box. Poor sod. 2001. I'm going to Heaven via a wormhole in space. 'What do you think you're doing Dave?' F**k off and mind your own business c**t.
It's some kind of vending machine. Why did someone dump it out here? Some film crew couldn't take it away on the truck? They do things big in America. Why shouldn't some documentary crew not need their own soft drinks? Christ this is mental. This is f**king mental. It's not rusty. How can I get inside it? If there's nothing there at least I can get some shade. Why am I being so calm about this? Good Grief.
Still got some change in my pocket. Why did I keep that? Was I going to find a phone? Dollar coins, good idea. That was 100 years ago. That 4 x 4 is probably spinning , head spinning. Come on hand, put it in the bloody slot. Keep missing. Talk to your hand. Its your friend. Come on. Just f**king get it in the hole! I've bloody well come this far.
OK, so it's broken. Or something. Its quiet out here. That coin sounded like it was dropping down a well. Something to look forward to. I cant go further. Do Something damm you!
Bingo. Shouting at things always makes them work better.
Liquid. I'll bother about what it is later.
Smells like puke, blimey this is delicious. It's liquid. I'm alive. I'm still alive!
....Stomach cramps. Nausea. Nausea.
100 miles away across
the mountains
'Tunnel six fiver
niner security breached. Tunnel six fiver niner security breached. Tunnel
cap probe reports signal condition yellow. Sir'
'Follow procedure
43, sound general alert'
Procedure 43. Prepare
silo number 4. Activate launch key.
'Silo 4 open, disconnect
supply feeds'
'Supply feeds are
disconnected'
'Seal all tunnels'
'Tunnels sealed'
'Enter launch key'
'Launch successful. Tracking on nine. Condition blue.'
The first stage is jettisoned at 10 miles altitude. Mach 2.
Mach 3. With a cargo of atomic death. Bullet the blue sky.
Target in sight. This rocket has an onboard electronic brain worth 1 million dollars costing years of hard work. Careers and dreams were built on the development of the brain, families raised on the income generated by working on it. Vacations in Florida for scientists, programmers, military personnel. All that work and care. And here it is. Performing excellently. Right on target. Only got to work the one time. But it must work.
A plane? A plane! By god! A plane!
'Alex dear, we're all
packed'
'I could do with this
vacation! Come here, give us a kiss'
'It's lovely to see
you again. You've been working so hard.... Come on kids! In the back!'
'Mom! Roy keeps making
faces at me!'
'Stop it now. Your dad
didn't work all winter at the base to have you two fight on our first
vacation'
'It's beautiful Jane,
It's the most perfect piece of machinery we've built'
'Sure honey, but it's
holiday time now, can we forget about the base for a while?'
'OK dear, sorry.
You know how it's been. And not being allowed to talk about it...
Hey Roy! Is your door shut?'
'Daddy, can we go to
Disneyland?'
Maureen!
Jane! Malcolm! Mum! Dad! Oh god. Oh my god......
One kilogram of uranium
can yield more than 10500 times the energy of an equivalent amount of gas.
Oil and coal release even less. Britain alone still has enough atomic
weapons to eradicate life on this planet. So do France and China.
Russia and the USA have even more. The money spent on the arms race in
Britain each year during the cold war could have funded the National Health
Service 100 times over.
Still, never mind eh? The cold War wasn't all bad surely? We did our bit for The West, didn't get overrun by communism, and learned how to make a fallout shelter from doors and mattresses. And think of all the jobs it provided. Are you sick and tired of being lied to by our leaders? Ever wanted to get hold of a politician and smash their face in? Break their legs? Kick the sh*t out of them till they scream out for mercy and tell them that this is what it's like for all the ordinary people who you send to war. And keep kicking them in the face until someone else takes over. And make them into scapegoats just like they do to minorities for years so that ordinary people would be too busy fighting each other to realise what scum are running the world. Because this is what they want to do to you and me. And being paid more and speaking at the UN and getting voted in through good marketing doesn't EVER give them the monopoly on the truth. They want to milk us for every thing we've got and then try to get us to kill each other in phony wars to take our minds off things. We must never let our guard down against politicians in any country, even for a second. There is no need for ordinary working people to point weapons at each other. The people in power find it necessary. The rich people. The weapons dealers. The sh*ts that design the bombs and blame the politicians when they get used. We can do something about this sorry situation if we all stick together. THEY want you and me to fight, we ordinary people don't want to fight each other, so lets STOP taking orders from governments NOW.
(c) N Brown 2000, email me with offers of money, death threats and sexual
favours at nb@nme.com
