Yet more old stuff

Spring '03. Not my best writings, perhaps. And perhaps I posted it here somewhere already, in which case, silly me, but, who cares.


A clear, windy summer day in the wastelands, there’s nothing out of the usual here. Important-looking people in official suits and military attire gathered here at the testing grounds, inspecting the device. The technicians are giving it the last test runs, adjusting this and that, seeing to it that nothing goes wrong this time. Finally satisfied, they all get in their vehicles and drive off to the safety of the bunkers, some distance upwind. In the bunkers, the white suits were doing some final adjustments to their equipment, pushing buttons, adjusting screens, and saying things the visitors didn’t much understand. Finally, it looked like the countdown could, at last, begin.



As the sun goes down, the wind speed picks up and a few people start saying that the test should be postponed a bit, the wind is too strong and might blow the sand to a settlement downwind, perhaps even contaminating it. Others say the wind is just fine and further delay would just cause them to lose time and money. The argument quickly ceases and the countdown begins. Ten minutes to go. The time ticks the seconds away, painfully slow at first, faster and faster as the time of the final test approaches. And finally, it seems as rapid and unstoppable as an avalanche. Three minutes…Two and a half…One…


Far away, in a settlement downwind, a boy asks his mother to let him go chase the wind outside a bit. His mother is reluctant at first – the wind has picked up now, carrying sand and occasional pieces of trash with it – but looking at her son’s eager face, she lets him go. A minute, to lace the shoes – he isn’t too good at it yet, twenty seconds to run down the stairs and out the front door.


Three, two, one… A bright flash on the monitors makes the observers close their eyes for a brief moment, then the earth rumbles and shakes and a distant roar is heard, and the crazy howling of the wind. The lights flicker, the monitors go static. The show’s over, champagne is opened, congratulations everyone, blah, blah…


A minute to get to the open field, and then he runs against the wind, the sand blowing in his face; runs against it with hands open wide.