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the righteous deployed； flocking en masse to their respective personal savior pit stops。
From the Mennonite farms at the county's edge to the African Episcopal Church downtown； the children of God made their holy presence known。 Between the hours of nine and noon； they virtually owned the roads： station wagons； packed to the gills with Baptists； Brethren； and Bible Fellows； drive…thru windows； dispensing Sausage and Egg McMuffins by the truckload to Methodists and Mormons alike； gas stations； meeting the motoring needs of Catholics； Christian Scientists； Seventh…Day Adventists； and Assemblymen of God。
Austin Deitz stood at the back of the Mt。 Rose Amoco Shop 'N' Go； where Route 24 crossed Mt。 Rose Avenue at the mouth of the eastern valley。 He was perusing the Yummy Potato Chip snack rack while he waited for Jennie to return。
She'd disappeared behind the Employees Only door ten minutes ago。 As store manager； she'd been torn from her bed and called in to troubleshoot the latest crisis： some loser named Ozzie who'd called in sick at the very last minute with tickets for the Eagles game。
That Ozzie now ranked among the unemployed was no consolation at all。 Only Ozzie's ability to deep…six their Sunday plans held even the remotest level of interest for him。 It was； after all； a very special occasion。
Their fourth…count 'em； fourth…anniversary。
Four solid weeks together； Deitz mused； smiling。 My God。 That's practically a whole month！ Somebody alert the media！
Almost an entire month where you could virtually call me happy。
Austin Deitz was a month shy of forty； a tall gangly man with knobby calloused hands and a face like a young Abe Lincoln's。 He had the same intense dark eyes and severe； gaunt hollows to his cheeks； the same shock of cowlicked hair and horsey overbite。 The only things he lacked were the beard and the bullet hole； and he was in no great hurry to acquire either one。
He was not exactly what he'd consider a love machine； but Jennie didn't seem to mind。 In fact； ever since their eyes met over the barbecue chicken pit at the Stoverstown Fire pany's Fall Festival； she'd changed his mind about a lot of things。
Jennie Quirez was slight and slender； with a broad yet delicate face framed by warm mahogany hair and offset by the clearest； finest deep brown eyes he'd ever seen。 She was either late twenties or early thirties…Deitz hadn't gotten around to asking yet； though he didn't think she'd mind…far enough along； anyway； for her rich tan plexion to take on the supple； slightly leathery etch of time。
She smiled a lot and didn't take an ounce of shit from anyone； a bination that Deitz found irresistible。 She was also； as if that wasn't enough； a pulsive reader of science fiction； whose childhood dream was to be an astronaut one day。 For a kid who grew up thinking that Heinlein and Bradbury were gods； there could not have been a more perfect wish…fulfillment fantasy than a girl who knew what to grok in fullness really meant； or who could savor both the strange peace and melancholic beauty of a book like The Martian Chronicles and the icy； hardwired edginess of Gibson's Neuromancer。
But the sf she loved most was fundamentally optimistic； like herself。 She liked to believe that there really were other species out there somewhere…intelligent； kind； benevolent species…and that one day we'd actually evolve enough to join them in the stars。
Moreover； she liked to encourage those qualities in people here on Earth； for what she felt were pretty obvious reasons： a） to help us evolve just a little bit faster； b） because； quite simply； life was better when you treated people right； and c） because the odds were good that； given her current career trajectory； she'd never actually make it into space。
She'll find someone to work； he told himself。 Just have a little faith。 You've got the Baltimore Aquarium and the Inner Harbor waiting； then dinner at Dobson's and a room at the Hunt Valley Inn。 Which is to say： you cannot fail。
Keep playing your cards right。 And pray for a miracle。
Today just might be the best day of your life。
And； of course； it was true。 Or at least it might be。 Certainly； every Sunday since he'd first met Jennie had been better than the last。 It was the first time； in what felt like forever； that Deitz had gotten so tight with somebody so quickly。
It was kind of like falling in love。
Which was an awful lot like a miracle in itself。
In the meantime； Deitz cruised the aisles aimlessly； waiting。 There wasn't a nontoxic unit of food in the whole goddam store…not Jennie's fault； she was a manager； not a buyer…but that didn't stop a dozen consumers from stocking up on nutritionless； oversalted； or sugar…crammed delights。 Deitz watched them mill about； paring poisons： it was a desperate bid； on his part； to take his mind off his sudden apprehension。
He glanced at the data pager tucked onto his belt； its tiny power light forever glowing。 What if something happens？ he thought gloomily； watching Dobson's and the Hunt Valley Inn sprout wings and flutter away without them。
The beeper remained both alert and mercifully silent。
Okay； then； he thought。 What if she can't find a sub 。。。 ？
〃Now stop；〃 he interrupted himself。 〃You promised； remember？ Today； nothing gets to you。 You're the happiest man on earth。〃
But some things were far easier said than done。
There was a dull…eyed girl behind the counter； sitting on a stool。 She was jamming a Tastykake into her mouth as she rang up a PTL housewife with a pile of fudge brownies stacked like poker chips before her。 Pat； the girl's tacky plastic name tag read。 Hi！ My name is Pat。
For a moment； in the flat； fluorescent glare； Pat's puffed fishbelly features seemed to somehow white out and magically transform： the rounded shoulders and rippling buttocks melding into the stool； erasing her identity entirely； until she became one great； pale； lumpen pyramid of consumption incarnate。
And for that moment of fancy； Deitz stared in mock horror as he pictured her： a gruesome Eating Machine； the cake disappearing down her champing maw like a log feeding into a tree shredder。
And； of course； the fact that it wasn't just any Tastykake； but a Kreme…Filled Krummy Kake； only made things better。 That way； on top of everything else； Pat was sure to get her minimum daily adult requirements of mono…calcium phosphate； mono and diglycerides； calcium lactate and propylene glycol monostearate。 To name only a few。
A plete and balanced breakfast。
For a dumb and dying race。
〃Blech；〃 he muttered； forcing himself to look away。
It was impolite to stare； but he couldn't always help it。 It was just so hard to believe that people were so oblivious。 It had been ages since he'd allowed himself such luxurious ignorance。
In a world of shit； it was tough to remain untainted； but Austin Deitz did what he could。 He disdained BHA and BHT； propyl gallate and yellow 5； which put the nix on everything from Snickers bars to Starburst fruit chews。 He steered clear of sodium benzoate； which effectively ruled out virtually every quaff in the establishment； from orange drink and iced tea all the way to Mountain Dew。 He didn't even want to think about the secret ingredients left unlabeled on their lunch…meat subs and ballpark franks。
The Yummy Potato Chip folks were another story： a local outfit； which made big book on ladling out fewer preservatives than their nationally known petitors。 All the same； when it came down to the taste buds； they were still drawing from the same old bag of tricks： a little calcium silicate； monosodium glutamate； sodium acetate； and fumaric acid to suggest salt 'n' vinegar or bring out the zing in those 〃natural smoke flavors。〃
Which pretty much left him with the unsalted peanuts and imported mountain spring water； both packaged in nonrecyclable plastic that was destined to outlast his greatgrandchildren's grandchildren。 That is； assuming that he ever had kids。
Which was pletely out of the question。
And this was where he was constantly forced to defend himself： from his parents； from the women who loved him； from the guys he grew up with who constantly tried to steer him toward a Normal Life。 It wasn't that Deitz was just some random； paranoid pain…in…the…ass； that he didn't like Christians； or snack cakes； or kids。 The truth was both simpler and harder to swallow。
Austin Deitz worked the Hazardous Materials squad。
And he had seen too much。
Normally； HazMat was a younger man's work； but to Deitz it was his mission and the meaning of his life。 He had started out years ago； a simple fireman wanting to save lives and be challenged； fighting the often cruel caprices of nature。 The drift to HazMat was a slow but inexorable one； like getting crushed by a train that takes ten years to get there。 And yet he never felt that he had any other choice。
Because if you were privileged to see the slow； insidious poisoning of the planet； you did what you could to stop it。 Even if it wasn't enough…even if nothing could ever be enough…you did what you could； because what else could you do？
Once you knew； there was no unknowing。
On