js&cs.thebridge-第15部分
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osity； a precautionary pie…Father's Day gift from Gwen。 It encased his whole head and face； with just a little snap…on plate for his eyes； the kind of helmet only rice…burner riders thought was cool。 He hated it； but loved her for giving it to him。
Gary straddled the softtail； keyed it on； and kicked it over； the engine roared to life。 It thrummed between his legs； Gary felt instantly better； his head clear。
Fuck it； he shrugged。 Into each life； and all that shit。 If the gods of expectant fatherhood were with him； the sun would be shining when he got back。
Gary gunned the engine； eased out of the garage； and rode。
Right into the thick of it。
Twelve
The muter flight from Philly to Paradise sucked； and by ten thirty…five； despite her best efforts to remain in good cheer； Micki Bridges had pretty much exhausted her options。 She was too tired to read； too wired to sleep； and way too close to blowing chunks for her to sit back and enjoy the ride。
The turbulence； of course； was at the root of her distress。 Every sledgehammer thud against the little plane's fuselage helped inch her stomach a little higher up into her lungs。 She groaned as the plane lurched abruptly toward sea level； caught itself hard。
Soft laughter emanated from the curtained…off cockpit： the pilot and copilot； yocking it up。 She could barely hear it over the drone of the engines； but it dragged a nervous； involuntary smile to her lips。 〃Glad somebody's enjoying this；〃 she muttered to herself。
〃Sorry about that folks。〃 The tiny inter buzzed to life with the pilot's voice。 〃We're just passing through some rough air here； there's a little storm front moving by overhead。 Not to worry； though； estimated E。T。A。 in Paradise is approximately twenty…seven minutes。 So hang in there； and thank you for flying US Air。〃
Another thud rocked the plane。
〃Oh； great；〃 Micki moaned； trying to keep her digestive system moored。 Her long ebony hair； laced with premature gray； spilled over her face； she brushed it back and groaned some more。
Micki Bridges was a handsome woman； agelessly attractive； youthful and mature by turns； one could guess ten years to either side of her thirty…three years and not seem too far off the mark。 But now her riveting； deep…set eyes were etched with the shadow of fatigue； and nausea had leeched off some of the healthier tones from her naturally olive skin； leaving her a tad on the greenish side。
She was ing down from Amherst； straight off the New World Symposium on EcoHarmony； with no breakfast and very little sleep under her belt。 All in all； she was glad she'd gone。 It was a chance to throw support behind a worthy cause； get together with handfuls of people she admired； meet her public； promote her books； and network like crazy。 All expenses paid。
For four days； she had done just that。 The organizers had outdone themselves； securing everyone from John Denver to Jean Houston； Carl Sagan to Stewart Brand； with a sobering keynote speech by Bill 〃The End of Nature〃 McKibben。
The speakers were passionate。 The cause was just。
And； in the end； very little had really changed。
Because half the people in attendance had e to see the world saved for them； by famous stars and noted authors。 A large percentage had e to hawk their ecologically correct wares： the water purifiers and solar conversion kits and biodegradable； nonphosphate； lemon…fresh detergents for the modern New Age lifestyle。 A far smaller percentage had e in the hope of finding support for their own little homegrown save…the…world strata gems： each one grandiose； sweeping； and impossibly naive； and all structured so as to place themselves squarely at the imaginary helm of Spaceship Earth。
But the real problem； Micki mused； was the perennial problem with the New Age： in its boundless optimism； its proponents had a tendency to offer far too much； make extravagant claims and promises they could never in a million years live up to； thereby turning love of the Mother Earth into so much New Age snake oil。
The hype surrounding this show； for example； promised that monies earned would go straight into the environment； that important global transformational policies would be drafted and then implemented over the weekend； by the total Symposium membership； and indeed； that ordinary rank and file would get to actually hobnob with the famous； to share theories and pare notes with the finest minds on the planet。
The reality netted somewhat less Utopian results。 Operating costs of the convention ate up fully half of the money generated； the important policy…drafting decayed into pompous speechifying and political infighting。 And Utopia had a VIP lounge； after all； where the invisible line between prole and privileged was clearly drawn。 The average results ran somewhere between a lecture and a flat…out dog…and…pony show。
The undercurrent of crushed hope was palpable。 Those naive enough to believe in a mystical Good Guys network…where they and their heroes labored side by side to solve the world's problems together…were inevitably in for some major disappointment。 Those who expected the quick fix were reminded that there were none； that the task of saving the Earth took nothing less than absolutely everyone； doing absolutely everything they could； every day for the rest of their lives。
And then maybe…just maybe…it would all work out。
By Sunday； it was clear to most that the world wasn't going to be saved this week； and certainly not this way。 In the process of trying to balm all those broken hearts and imploded ideals； Micki had used up every last ounce of energy； not to mention violating ninety…nine percent of her own very strict health regimen。
And then it was time to go 。。。
WHAM！ Micki's eyes snapped wide open。 Wa…WHAM！
There was a disorienting moment of total weightlessness； irrespective of gravity。 Freefall seemed to go on forever…a full ten feet； longer； in the space of a second…then SLAM！ steadied out and proceeded to shake； like the plane was a chew toy in a pit bull puppy's jaws。
She heard herself mewling； and shut herself up。
〃Oh dear god。〃 White…knuckle…clutching the arms of her seat。 〃Oh； please stop。〃 As the shaking continued。 〃Oh！〃 as they dropped again…WHAMWHAM buh buh BLAM！ BLAM！…and miraculously stabilized。
Leaving Micki with a moment to question her sanity； ask herself what the hell she was doing here。
The answer was simple。 She had e to see Gwen。 Put up with Gary。 And help usher their baby into the world。
In fact； she had planned this out months in advance； leaving virtually no margin for errors not endemic to the plan。 She had gotten up at six； checked out by six…thirty； then limoed the fifty…plus miles from Amherst to Hartford and hopped a marginally civilized DC…9 to Philly； only to find her angular frame wedged into the tiniest； least fortable seat this side of Midget Purgatory； puddle…jumping to Paradise on a US Air muter flight that only carried two of its maximum twelve…passenger payload。
The downgrade from jet to prop…power was bad enough。 She could deal with the flight that had brought her the three…thousand…plus miles from Oregon to Amherst because the plane was so damned big…Clipper Class in a 747 was like taking Amtrak at thirty…seven thousand feet。 And even in a smaller jet she could fool herself： hold her breath until they broke cloud cover and then while away the flight time studying the little seat…pocket cards； memorizing escape routes and how to best use her seat cushion as a flotation device。
A turbo…prop； however； was all business： there was simply no escaping the fact that she was flying； not…so…bravely going where no one in their right mind should ever have gone before； three thousand five hundred feet in the air in her itsy…bitsy seat right next to an aisle you couldn't even stand upright in while the pilot and copilot sniggered behind their dinky curtain； plotting air…speed vectors and crash coordinates and hoarding parachutes and she could see people the size of ants in their backyards； goddammit； and 。。。
If you're really that frightened； said the voice in her head； you could always make a circle。
Micki started； momentarily surprised。 She hated it when her spirit guide snuck up on her like that。 Even after five years of trance…channeling； it still gave her the willies sometimes。 〃What do you know？〃 she said aloud。 〃You're not even on this plane。 You're not even on the earth plane。〃 you're overreacting； Bob…Ramtha said calmly。
〃Overreacting！〃 she blurted。 〃Are you kidding？ You ever seen what happens to these things when they go down？ It's like a human Cuisinart！〃
You don't have to yell； Bob…Ramma chided。
Micki lowered her voice。 She looked behind her； the sole other passenger sat three rows back on the other side。 He was doughy； disheveled； a cheeky businessman with a full day's growth of scratchy beard； heading home at last。 He smiled at her uneasily and nodded。 Micki nodded and turned away。
〃Sorry； Bobba；〃 she amended to herself。 〃I'm just nervous； is all。 And my stomach's upset。〃
It's okay； the voice said。
〃No it's not；〃 Micki replied。 It was stupid。 Micki Bridges was blessed with a direct pipeline to the hereafter…a live internal audio feed to the Other Side…and she was still scared of dying。
The plane buffeted again； bouncing on the air currents like a numbered ping…pong ball in a Pennsylvania Lotto drawing。 She sucked wind sharply and held it； took the reins on her panic。
The storm front is pretty big； Bob…Ramtha said。 Micki nodded in affirmation。 From her vantage point； it extended as far as the eye could see： a solid wall of low； foreboding clouds blanketing the earth。 To the north； the air was purplish…gray with rain。 It wasn't apt to get much better in the twenty…odd minutes to e。
She thought about it； accepted it； sighed。 〃Make a circle； huh？〃 she said。
Couldn't hurt； Bob…Ramtha replied。
Micki smiled； his voice was soothing； and his advice had never been off the mark。 Bob…Ramtha was rare； as spirit entities went： he didn't make portentous proclamations； he didn't claim to be bosom buddies with the Almighty or to know the exact date the mothe
