Books > Bear v. Shark >

Excerpts

Chapter 3: Ohms and Amperes

A wife (Mrs. Norman) and two boys all asleep upstairs.

We got ourselves a quiet house. This suburban house is completely and blessedly silent.

One thinks of wind-kissed meadows. One thinks of bomb shelters.

The house is completely silent, except only for those trifling noises against which we recognize and understand the very idea of silence, the rustle and pulse that we might say define silence, yes, bring it into existence and lock it into a paired opposition that confers meaning and context.

The silent house: silent, that is, except for the chemical hum of the central air-conditioning, except for the hiss of dehumidifiers, except for the Babelic chatter of Televisions.

Silent but for the synthetic pulse of coaxial cables, converters, underground fiber-optic lines. The crackle and pop of electricity, currency, frequency -- the ohms and amperes, watts and volts.

All silent except for the thud of the Land Swaps & Divorces against vinyl siding, except for the clicking of the hard drive, the murmuring of Web site authors -- Charles Lindbergh deniers, child pornographers, auctioneers, insomniacs, quilters, Captains of Industry, professors of Canadian Literature.

Except for the gunshots, the sirens, the gunshots, the choppers.

Except for bear banter, shark schlock.

Except for the inexorable grind of continental plates miles below the earth's surface.

Miles?

Silent except for the utopian drone of the Vibra-Dream Plus and the sweet, sweet morning songs of electric birds installed in the imitation dogwoods in the backyard of Mr. Norman's suburban cable-ready home.

Fax, scanner, cell phone.

You shoot a bear so many times and it still doesn't die.

The house is completely silent when Mr. Norman awakes.

Copyright © 2001 by Chris Bachelder