“She hasn’t mentioned that. Our conversations have been very standard, making plans for the kids.”
“Still got a thing for you?”
“I don’t know,” Adams says. “No. The years we spent together, maybe.”
Otto tosses his bottle into a pile of dirt at the foot of the dome. “Can you draw me some kind of map that shows how funny this country is? I mean, even the smart ones like you and Pammy are crazy.”
Adams nods. “It’s a failure, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“The country.”
“I don’t know nothin’ about that.”
“Gloriously full. Poisoned, fat, and hungry. A history of odd loves, spurious fights. Rooms that emit high piercing noises just behind the walls. For the next sixty seconds. This is only a test.”
“Where do you get all this stuff? Like that shit you were trying to tell me the other night. About Reason?”
“It’s working itself out in the universe.”
Otto pulls another beer from the Styrofoam cooler beneath the table. “It ain’t got a snowball’s chance in hell,” he tells Adams.
Adams says, “We’ll see.”
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