THE ATOMIC QUESTION

                       "Ah professor! You're just the man I wanted tom see." the young man managed to declare in slightly slurred words. He was seated on a plastic Pepsi crate, with his eyes out of focus and half closed with rum.
                     Nevertheless he made an effort to appear perfectly sober. At least that was what he thought, while the professor doubted its validity. The man had been a former English student before he went to the States as a wetback; almost died in the Arizona desert, was saved by a cousin who took him to D.C., where he made his misfortune. That is to say he managed to pay back the coyote who had brought him there, after mortgaging everything he had and was almost solvent again...but...It took him five years where he began to work construction during the day and wash dishes at a pizza parlor at night. That was only the b beginning, for later he took on two more jobs and never slept and somehow he survived. Then he returned to find his wife with another man, his children grown and dispersed. In short, nothing was the same as before and there was nothing he could do about it. He said he thought the States had chewed him up and spit him out again. He had nothing left, so he took to drink.
                    Now he was seated on a broken, plastic Pepsi case, which was red in color, matching his eyes and puffy cheeks. If there was life there it was stagnant and yet he persisted to inquire:
                      "Professor I have the most respect for you because you were my teacher. Could you please answer me one question?"
                    These words were clearly enunciated which surprised everyone there, for he seemed determined to regain his composure, in order to formulate this all important inquiry. There were two other people, seated in plastic chairs, who were not quite as drunk as he was, but remained intent at listening to him with with almost mystic awe. After all he had gone to the States and survived, where that was just a dream for them. One was an older man and the other a young Maya, who had a face carved out of stone.
                    The professor remained quiet as he stood in front of the wooden counter and ordered his portion of rum for the day. He was familiar with drunks and their reasons for being so, but was interested in finding out what this question might be.
                     "My question professor, after all I have gone through in the States, is simply...what would happen if they dropped an atomic bomb there?" he blurted out, in defiance of insipid stupidity, with spittle emanating from his mouth.
                      "That would be the end of the world." the young Maya volunteered, without hesitation.
                      "That's obvious," the old man agreed.
                      "I don't want to hear your talk! Did I ask you that question? I asked the professor who was my English teacher, before I went to los United! So; what do you say professor?" he demanded, divorced from his former life and swaying on the Pepsi case, first forward and then backward, as though retracing the misfortune that had brought him there. That was the last conscious moment before he went crashing to the floor, achieving oblivion.
                   The professor left, after he finished his drink, without uttering a word. Apparently it was not necessary, for even speculation was banal, considering such an atomic question.