martinlivings | Tuesday's Ten Minute Tale

Okay, here 'tis. Thanks to

rabbit1080 for "thermonuclear",

chrisb74 for "rampaging nerds" and

shrydar for "brogues".

"Come Together"
(c) Martin Livings 18-3-2008

"Shoop... shoop..."

Is there any nicer term in the English language than "thermonuclear war"? I mean, take a close look at it. "Thermo" is like "thermal", nice and warm and snuggly. And "nuclear"? That's in reference to the nucleus, which is at the core of all things, wound up tight with atomic forces, safe, secure. Even "war" sounds a lot like "warm". I can't, off the top of my head, think of a cozier couple of words.

"Shoop... shoop..."

Someone's playing the new Beatles album on a portable record player. They say it's the last one. We don't mind. John Lennon's singing nonsense. It makes sense to us.

"Here come old flattop he come grooving up slowly,
He got joo-joo eyeball he one holy roller..."

We all feel the same way, here in the cold desert air. That's why we studied physics and chemistry in school, instead of playing football and basketball. Why we had pin-ups of Einstein and Oppenheimer instead of Hayworth and Page. All individuals, but slowly drawn together, to the warm center of the universe, like stars drifting towards a black hole, gradual, glacial, but inevitable.

"He got hair down to his knee,
Got to be a joker he just do what he please."

We built it ourselves. Each of us contributed a piece, built separately, independantly. None of us knew the others even existed, until tonight. All of us, drawn here to the desert in New Mexico. There are a couple of Scots here who've brought a home-made geiger counter, come all the way from Edinburgh, with brogues both in their voices and on their feet. Their wingtips click on the glassy, churned sand, and their device clicks as well, fast, very fast. Our heartbeats race in time.

"He wear no shoeshine he got toe-jam football,
He got monkey finger he shoot coca-cola..."

Each of us presents our part of the device in turn, barely a word spoken. Many wouldn't even have spoken English. There are asian faces, dark faces, pale faces. But our eyes are all the same, alight with an unspeakable excitement, buried deep inside us. A need to experience the universe first-hand, up close.

"He say 'I know you, you know me'..."

My part of the device is last. The detonator. I had no idea why I'd spent three years building it. Until now. The others look at me. I look at them, then at the completed bomb. There's no timer, no remote control. There's no need for one. There's just a switch.

"One thing I can tell you is you got to be free."

Everyone gathers around, completely silent now, faces gleaming in the cold, cold moonlight. Eyes on fire, in anticipation. Shaking, not from cold, but from sheer, near-orgasmic glee. Soon we'll no longer be alone. Soon we'll be one with the universe, all of us. Safe. Warm.

"Come together, right now,
Over me."

I press the button, and the cosmos embraces us.

Shoop.