" The desert frightens me, I think. It looks too much like the seventh circle of hell. I'm afraid of damnation."
"Why?"
"Why?" Evelyn repeated, peering at Ann from behind her hand. She lay back again and closed her eyes. "I don't know. I've always supposed everyone is."
"Well, they're not. I, for instance, am a hell of a lot more frightened of being saved." Evelyn chuckled.
"I'm serious," Ann protested. "Virtue smells to me of rotting vegetation. Here you burn or freeze. Either way it's clean."
"Sterile," Evelyn said and felt the word a laceration of her own flesh. "I wonder. It's fertility that's a dirty word for me."
"Is it?"
"Yes, I'm terrified of giving in, of justifying my own existence by means of simple reproduction. So many people do or try to. And there are the children, so unfulfilling after all. And they grow up to do nothing but reproduce children who will reproduce, everyone so busy reproducing that there's no time to produce anything. But it's such a temptation. It seems so natural — another dirty word for me. What's the point?"
"You'd have the human race die out?"
"No. We'll multiply in spite of ourselves always. We'll populate the desert. One day there will be little houses and docks all along this shore, signs of our salvation."
"What would you have us do instead?" Evelyn asked.
"Accept damnation," Ann said. "It has its power and its charm. And it's real."
"So we should all get jobs in gambling casinos."
"We all do," Ann said, her voice amused. "What do you think the University of California is? It's just a minor branch of the Establishment. The only difference is that it has to be subsidized."
"Are you talking nonsense on purpose?"
"No, I'm serious."
"You think nothing has any value?"
"No, I think everything has value, absolute value, a child, a house, a day's work, the sky. But nothing will save us. We were never meant to be saved."
"What were we meant for then?"
"To love the whole damned world," Ann said…
"I live in the desert of the heart," Evelyn said quietly, "I can't love the whole damned world." 'Love me, Evelyn.' 'I do. "
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"Why?"
"Why?" Evelyn repeated, peering at Ann from behind her hand. She lay back again and closed her eyes. "I don't know. I've always supposed everyone is."
"Well, they're not. I, for instance, am a hell of a lot more frightened of being saved." Evelyn chuckled.
"I'm serious," Ann protested. "Virtue smells to me of rotting vegetation. Here you burn or freeze. Either way it's clean."
"Sterile," Evelyn said and felt the word a laceration of her own flesh. "I wonder. It's fertility that's a dirty word for me."
"Is it?"
"Yes, I'm terrified of giving in, of justifying my own existence by means of simple reproduction. So many people do or try to. And there are the children, so unfulfilling after all. And they grow up to do nothing but reproduce children who will reproduce, everyone so busy reproducing that there's no time to produce anything. But it's such a temptation. It seems so natural — another dirty word for me. What's the point?"
"You'd have the human race die out?"
"No. We'll multiply in spite of ourselves always. We'll populate the desert. One day there will be little houses and docks all along this shore, signs of our salvation."
"What would you have us do instead?" Evelyn asked.
"Accept damnation," Ann said. "It has its power and its charm. And it's real."
"So we should all get jobs in gambling casinos."
"We all do," Ann said, her voice amused. "What do you think the University of California is? It's just a minor branch of the Establishment. The only difference is that it has to be subsidized."
"Are you talking nonsense on purpose?"
"No, I'm serious."
"You think nothing has any value?"
"No, I think everything has value, absolute value, a child, a house, a day's work, the sky. But nothing will save us. We were never meant to be saved."
"What were we meant for then?"
"To love the whole damned world," Ann said…
"I live in the desert of the heart," Evelyn said quietly, "I can't love the whole damned world." 'Love me, Evelyn.' 'I do." style="width:100%;margin:20px 0;"/>