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"
It
could
n't
be
done
,
"
I
said
through
a
dry
mouth
.
But
their
hands
were
tied
behind
them
,
all
right
.
I
could
n't
seem
to
take
my
eyes
away
from
that
.
"
It
could
.
If
they
wanted
to
bad
enough
,
David
,
they
could
.
"
"
But
why
?
"
"
I
think
you
know
why
.
Not
any
of
the
tourists
,
the
summer
people-like
that
guy
Miller-but
there
are
people
from
around
here
who
could
make
a
pretty
decent
guess
.
"
The
Arrowhead
Project
?
"
Ollie
said
,
"
I
stand
by
one
of
those
registers
all
day
long
and
I
hear
a
lot
.
All
this
spring
I
've
been
hearing
things
about
that
damned
Arrowhead
thing
,
none
of
it
good
.
The
black
ice
on
the
lakes
-
"
I
thought
of
Bill
Giosti
leaning
in
my
window
,
blowing
warm
alcohol
in
my
face
.
Not
just
atoms
,
but
different
atoms
.
Now
these
bodies
hanging
from
that
overhead
pipe
.
The
cocked
heads
.
The
dangling
shoes
.
The
tongues
protruding
like
summer
sausages
.
I
realized
with
fresh
horror
that
new
doors
of
perception
were
opening
up
inside
.
New
?
Not
so
.
Old
doors
of
perception
.
The
perception
of
a
child
who
has
not
yet
learned
to
protect
itself
by
developing
the
tunnel
vision
that
keeps
out
ninety
percent
of
the
universe
.
Children
see
everything
their
eyes
happen
upon
,
hear
everything
in
their
ears
'
range
.
But
if
life
is
the
rise
of
consciousness
(
as
a
crewel-work
sampler
my
wife
made
in
high
school
proclaims
)
,
then
it
is
also
the
reduction
of
input
.
Terror
is
the
widening
of
perspective
and
perception
.
The
horror
was
in
knowing
I
was
swimming
down
to
a
place
most
of
us
leave
when
we
get
out
of
diapers
and
into
training
pants
.
I
could
see
it
on
Ollie
's
face
,
too
.
When
rationality
begins
to
break
down
,
the
circuits
of
the
human
brain
can
overload
.
Axons
grow
bright
and
feverish
.
Hallucinations
turn
real
:
the
quicksilver
puddle
at
the
point
where
perspective
makes
parallel
lines
seem
to
intersect
is
really
there
;
the
dead
walk
and
talk
;
a
rose
begins
to
sing
.
