Fallout

I think people who are against letting a Negro go to an all-white university probably think that Negroes shouldn’t go to college because they were once slaves. I think this is wrong because Negroes are not slaves anymore.

It is wrong for people to be against letting a Negro go to an all-white university because they think that Negroes shouldn’t go to college because they were once slaves. I think those people should think about how they would feel if Negroes had made white people slaves instead of the other way around. I don’t think white people would like it one bit if they wanted to go to an all-Negro college and weren’t allowed. The golden rule says we should do unto others as they would do unto us.

In conclusion, it is wrong for white people to be against letting a Negro go to an all-white university because they think that Negroes shouldn’t go to college because they were once slaves.

45

“The refuse can is almost full,” Dad says.

“So, what do you suggest, Herr Kapitän?” asks Mr. McGovern, as if he’s hoping maybe this could be another reason to reduce the number of mouths by two.

“Oh, am I still in charge?” Dad asks sarcastically.

“Suppose we just put the solid waste in it?” Mrs. Shaw asks.

Dad nods. “That’s what I was thinking.”

So now liquid waste goes directly into the drain on the floor. The men stand; the women squat. People don’t always hold up the blanket for privacy anymore. It takes too much energy. The men just turn their backs and go. Janet and Mrs. Shaw hold the blanket for Paula. Dad and Janet take Mom by the arms and help her to squat. Seeing people go now, I feel the way I used to feel when one of our neighbors’ dogs went. What’s the big deal?

Why was it ever a big deal?

Out of the blue, Mr. Shaw says, “We’re worse than animals. Animals only kill what they need for food. Humans kill for no reason.”

Eyes shift as we glance at one another. No one replies.

Dad tries the radio. “There’ve got to be others. Sooner or later, someone has to start broadcasting.”

“Powered by what?” Mr. McGovern sighs like parents do when their kids act stubbornly. “You think the power plants are still standing? And even if they are, you think the people who run them are still alive? And they’re just going to go back to work? What’s the point? To earn a salary? Who’s going to pay them? And even if someone did, what would they do with the money? Go to a store? There’s nothing to buy. No one’s going back to work, Richard. No one’s making anything. They’re all too busy just trying to survive.”

“The government made contingency plans,” Dad counters. “They stored food and gasoline. The army’ll get things going again.”

Mr. McGovern rolls his eyes. “You’ve been completely brainwashed. Do you have any idea how much food and fuel it takes to keep this country running? It doesn’t matter what the government has stored. Without a constant supply of new coal, oil, and natural gas, whatever they’ve got won’t last more than a month or two. So unless the army is going to start mining and drilling, and processing and refining, and transporting, and running power plants, it can’t possibly go back to the way it was.”

Nobody argues. Dad has his listening-and-thinking face on.

“And I’ll tell you something else,” Mr. McGovern continues. “Our power plants and refineries were probably the first things the Russians bombed. Just like their power plants and oil fields were the first things we bombed. And it’s not like we can rebuild whatever was damaged; anything that got a direct hit from a nuclear weapon will be radioactive for decades, if not centuries. So to have the energy we need means digging new mines and oil wells, as well as building new power plants. How long do you think that will take?”

Dad doesn’t answer.

“How long?” asks Sparky.

“Not in our lifetimes,” Mr. McGovern answers, still focusing on Dad. “Maybe now you can understand why some of us weren’t in a hurry to build bomb shelters.”