Read Online This is the Way the World Ends by James Morrow - Free Book Online

by the early sixties missile gap that did not exist.” ’
    ‘I am George Paxton,’ the tomb inscriber stated calmly, deliberately, ‘and I would appreciate it if you would let me speak. Nadine Covington said you have a scopas suit for my daughter. If she was mistaken, then—’
    ‘Mistaken? No, I’m the one who’s mistaken. It’s the mercury we use to cure our felt. Makes me mistaken. Crazy as well. The doctors say there’s no cure, because I’ve used it on the felt, but I feel cured, I really do, never cured more felt or felt more cured. Mrs Covington, did you say? Oh, yes, a sterling woman, sterling. You could serve tea off her. The old girl and I have a lot in common. One nose. Two eyes. Black blood. We have always been with you, waiting to get in. Of course I have a suit for you, George. Let me dig it out. Meanwhile, have some wine.’
    ‘I don’t see any wine.’
    ‘There isn’t any.’
    The MAD Hatter vanished behind velvet drapes, returning almost instantaneously with a child-size scopas suit, one unlike any George had ever seen.
    The material was golden, silky, and phosphorescent, bathing the shop in a bright, boiling-butter glow. The boots and gloves suggested vulcanized jade. George pulled off his mitten and touched a sleeve. Warm milk.
    ‘This is the only one I shall ever make,’ said the Hatter. ‘I raised the caterpillars myself – fed them on vitriol and metal shavings so they’d put out tough silk. It takes a hefty fabric to get through a thermonuclear exchange, George. They were marvelous caterpillars. They smoked hookahs and sat on mushroom clouds.’
    When Theophilus flopped the luminous invention on the counter, George thought he saw golden sparks.
    ‘Is it as good as an Eschatological?’ he asked warily.
    ‘Better. It actually works.’
    ‘Then why don’t you make more?’
    ‘That will be obvious once you read the contract.’
    ‘I thought it was free!’
    ‘If you want the suit, you must sign the sales contract.’ The Hatter reached behind the counter, drawing out a crisp, rattly sheaf of printed paper and a fountain pen. ‘Here,’ he said, sliding the paper toward George. ‘Put your John Hancock, or the founding father of your choice, on the line.’
    Sales Contract
BY AFFIXING MY NAME to this agreement, which entitles me to receive one scopas suit free of charge, I hereby confess to my complicity in the nuclear arms race.
I, THE SIGNATORY, AM FULLY AWARE that the prevalence of these suits emboldens our society’s leaders to pursue a policy of nuclear brinksmanship.
I AM FURTHERMORE AWARE that these suits are a public opiate, numbing our society to the dangers inherent in the following: the failure of the STABLE agreements to constrain meaningfully the arsenals of the superpowers; the ongoing refinement of the MARCH Plan for waging a limited nuclear war; the refusal of the current administration to adopt a no-first-use policy regarding theater nuclear forces; and the continued deployment by the United States and the Soviet Union of first-strike intercontinental ballistic missiles with multiple warheads.
Signed:_______________
    ‘I don’t understand this,’ said George.
    ‘Just sign it.’
    ‘ “Complicity.” That means . . . ?’
    ‘Partnership in wrongdoing.’
    ‘Sounds like I could go to jail .’
    ‘Well, you might go to jail anyway. I mean, suppose you woke up tomorrow morning and murdered somebody. They’d surely put you in jail.’
    ‘STABLE agreements. You said they were the Strategic, Tactical, and . . . Anti-something.’
    ‘Anti-Ballistic Limitation and Equalization. Hey, George, if you don’t want the suit, I’ll give it to somebody who does.’
    ‘MARCH Plan. Moderate Attacks—’
    ‘ Modulated Attacks in Response to Counterforce Hostilities. Just another war-winning strategy. Old wine in new bottles. Don’t worry about it. Sign.’
    ‘ “No-first-use,” it says.’
    ‘As opposed to no-second-use, no-third-use, no-seventeenth-use . . .