Going Nuclear. Stephen Hart

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СКАЧАТЬ of Illinois. “Hell, no, we won’t go,” chanted a long-haired young man through a bullhorn. He stood on the steps of the building waving two fingers back and forth in the air as his voice carried over the crowd. A newspaper photographer dropped to one knee and snapped his picture. Soon most of the students were shouting the phrase with the young man, many extending two fingers above their own heads to form their own peace signs. As Arthur observed the enthusiastic demonstrators, the homemade signs, the long hair flowing in the breeze, he was warmed by their apparent solidarity and sense of purpose—young people united against the egotistic insanity of the older generation, young people determined to make a better world.

      As he continued to survey the scene, Arthur suddenly spotted an unexpected but familiar face, Joshua Taylor, a wiry young black man who, like Arthur, was working on a PhD in physical chemistry. Arthur wondered what someone like Joshua was doing at the peace rally. Joshua had always impressed Arthur as more or less apolitical, the quintessential lab rat, dedicated to working dutifully on his thesis and not much else.

      Suddenly, a contingent of six campus policemen stomped menacingly up the steps to the leader, grabbed the bullhorn from his hand, and ordered the crowd to disperse. The photographer took more pictures. “Leave the area now,” one of the policemen ordered mechanically. “Leave the area now.”

      “Go to hell,” Joshua shouted as the crowd began to fall silent.

      “Go to hell,” more voices echoed, followed by cheers and applause. At that point, one of the policemen, a heavyset young man, pointed his billy club at Joshua, said something to a superior, and then started wading through the demonstrators in Joshua’s direction. Arthur also started to work his way toward Joshua, who stood defiantly in place with both arms crossed in front of him.

      “You’re coming with me!” the policeman cried out as he latched onto one of Joshua’s arms.

      “Why?” Arthur yelled, arriving at the same time. “He has a right to be here.”

      “Stay out of this,” Joshua snapped at Arthur. He then turned to the policeman, jerked his arm free and shouted, “Fuck you, pig. I’m not going anywhere.” The policeman immediately raised his club to crack Joshua’s head, but before he could, Arthur, acting on impulse, body checked the policeman, knocking him to the ground. As the two young men stared at the stunned officer, who was still on his back, Joshua yelled urgently, “Let’s get out of here” and began pushing his way through the crowd. Arthur followed closely, struggling to get past the maddeningly inert students. Finally able to pick up the pace a bit, Arthur glanced back and saw that the policeman was now scrambling to his feet and would soon be in hot pursuit.

      “Let’s go,” Arthur shouted, pushing at Joshua’s back. Once they cleared the crowd completely, they broke into a dead run across campus. Arthur looked back again and saw that the policeman had indeed taken up the chase.

      “The chemistry building,” Joshua shouted over his shoulder, veering in that direction. To Arthur, this made no sense. He couldn’t see running to a place where they could both be easily identified, despite the fact that it was Friday afternoon and the building would be largely vacant. Conceding to the immediacy of the situation, however, Arthur simply followed Joshua’s lead, sprinting two more blocks before slowing down to dash up the front steps and into the building. As the main entrance door closed behind them, Arthur looked back once again. The policeman had fallen farther behind but was still after them, gulping for air as he ran. Arthur and Joshua walked hurriedly down the hallway to a set of stairs, then darted up one flight to an office that Joshua shared with two other grad students. Panting heavily, Joshua slipped his key into the office door, gave it a turn, and waved Arthur in. “Leave the lights off,” Joshua gasped, closing the door behind them. “Sit down on the floor.”

      Arthur rested his back against a wall as Joshua locked the door and sat down next to him. “Let’s see that pig find us now,” Joshua said, grinning. Arthur nodded, grateful for the chance to catch his breath. After several minutes of silence, they heard the policeman’s footsteps stalking the hall.

      “You have to come out sometime,” the policeman yelled, slamming his club against a door several offices down. He passed Joshua’s office, then slammed his club on the door of the next office. “You might as well come out. I know you’re here.”

      As the policeman’s footsteps faded, Arthur wiped his forehead with his hand, shifted his weigh, and began to speak. But as he did, Joshua raised a finger to his lips. After a bit longer, however, Joshua cocked his head to one side, then whispered, “Okay, I think he’s gone.”

      “Probably is,” Arthur replied softly. “I haven’t heard anything since he passed by.”

      “Yeah, but I think we’d better plan on laying low for a while,” Joshua said as he fumbled in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a joint and a book of matches. “Might as well relax a little, though. This is Panama Red, some primo shit by way of San Francisco.” He lit the joint, took a hit, then passed it to Arthur.

      Arthur took a long drag. “I think you’re right,” he said as he released the smoke. “That cop looked pissed. He’ll probably be waiting for us at the door all night.”

      “Yeah,” Joshua said, laughing. “Fucking pigs.” He took the joint back from Arthur.

      “They didn’t have any right to interfere with that demonstration,” Arthur asserted, shaking his head.

      “Where I come from, they don’t have the right to pull half the shit they pull, but they do it anyway. Of course, you probably don’t have any idea of what I’m talking about. Growing up for you was probably a piece of fucking cake.” Joshua took a hit and passed the joint back to Arthur.

      “Are you kidding? I would have had it made if the only thing I had to worry about was the police.” Arthur took another hit. “I grew up in the military. My old man was a hard-core officer in the Army. Talk about some deep shit.” He passed the joint back to Joshua.

      “Hell, you don’t know what deep shit is. Have you ever been put down on the sidewalk and cuffed and searched just because of the way you look? Have you ever had a friend shot by the police just because he showed a bad attitude?” After a long drag, Joshua passed the joint to Arthur.

      “No. But I know something about attitude. When I was a kid, I couldn’t disagree with my old man or even look him in the eye wrong without worrying about getting slapped across the face. And he had a razor strap that he liked to use, too. We had to say ‘yes sir’ and ‘no sir’ to adults, and we had room inspection every morning: shined shoes, made bed, everything.” Arthur took a hit and passed the joint back to Joshua.

      “Room inspection and shined shoes. How the hell did you survive?” Joshua laughed and shook his head.

      “It may not sound like much, but it was.”

      “So what were you doing at the demonstration today then, rebelling against your old man?”

      “No. I was just watching. I think the war is a big mistake, and I was glad to see people doing something about it. What about you?”

      “I needed to be there, needed to participate. It’s important to me to do everything I can to obstruct that fucking war.”

      “Why?”

      “Because it’s so blatantly racial,” Joshua shot back.

      “What do you mean?”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ