Bear v. Shark (3 page)

The question is simple, as are most profound questions.

Given a relatively level playing field — i.e., water deep enough so that a Shark could maneuver proficiently, but shallow enough so that a Bear could stand and operate with its characteristic dexterity — who would win in a fight between a Bear and a Shark?

You should know by now: The Normans of America are going to Las Vegas for The Sequel: Darwin’s Duel, Surf against Turf, Lungs v. Gills in the Neon Desert for All the Marbles.

Mrs. Norman and the two boys, Matthew and Curtis, are awake. They’re getting ready, it’s pretty exciting.

Mrs. Norman’s electronic mail message says, “This is going to be fun!” It (the electronic message) says, “Don’t forget to pack underwear and a toothbrush.”

Mrs. Norman comes downstairs. Her posture is remarkable, it’s something she’s worked on. She says to Mr. Norman, “How was your day?”

Mr. Norman says, “What?”

Mrs. Norman says, “Oh.”

She says, “How did you sleep?”

Mr. Norman says, “There was an interesting program last night on the Great Wall of China. Turns out it’s technically a hologram. It’s the largest man-made hologram.”

Mrs. Norman says, “What do you mean by technically?”

Mr. Norman says, “You mind if I turn up the birds?”

Mrs. Norman says, “I dreamed that I found a turtle and I knew I had a CD stuck in him but I couldn’t figure out how to get it out. It was so frustrating because I knew the CD was inside there, it was that Mall Sonatas one I like so much. Inside the turtle.”

Matthew, the older boy, comes downstairs. Colorful sharks circle his pajamas and lunge at fat lazy seals. He has cut off the sleeves, apparently with dull scissors or a knife.

Mr. Norman checks the Internet for the weather. He wants to check the weather on the Television, too. He asks Matthew to turn the Television to the weather network.

Matthew sighs and says, “Which one?”

Mr. Norman says, “The one on the staircase.”

Matthew says, “Not which Television, which weather network?”

Mr. Norman says, “How many are there?”

Matthew scowls. It’s a difficult age. Or maybe something is wrong with him. Or maybe this is just normal. He says, “There’s the Weather Network and there’s Weather Network Plus and there’s Extreme Weather.”

Mrs. Norman is sitting right-angled in the kitchen Net Nook, printing a course map and checking the weather on the Internet. She says, “There’s also Weather Europe.”

Mr. Norman says, “What’s the difference?”

Matthew says, “Weather Europe is not a part of our cable package.”

Curtis appears downstairs with a briefcase.

Mrs. Norman says, “Cable package.”

Mr. Norman says, “Just put it on the Weather Network.”

Matthew says, “I’ve said it so many times and I’ll say it again. The Weather Network Plus is better.”

Mr. Norman says, “Why is it better?”

Matthew says, “What it is is more up-to-the-minute and complete.”

Mr. Norman says, “More complete than twenty-four hours a day?”

Matthew says, “It has more weather.”

Mrs. Norman says, “I wonder why they even have the Weather Network anymore.”

Curtis says, “Extreme Weather has this thing where they show you the weather from the weather’s perspective. It looks awesome.”

Mr. Norman says, “Put it on Weather Network Plus.”

Matthew says, “I have no idea what channel that is.”

Mrs. Norman (in the Net Nook) says, “Just a sec, I’ll check our local cable listings for details.”

The point being: Watching Television used to be a distinct and bounded activity, like bowling or extreme virtual snowboarding. You were not doing it and then you were doing it. Likewise, you were doing it and then you were not doing it. On, off. Off, on. 0, 1. Binary: simple, discrete, delineated. You turned it on to watch and you turned it off when you were finished. When you were finished, you turned it off. Seems so strange now. That one-inch heavy plastic border around the screen, everyone thought it was a nonpermeable membrane. It would have been silly to suggest otherwise. But here’s the thing: as the images on the screen kept getting brighter, sharper, clearer, the Television Set’s plastic border kept getting fuzzier, blurrier, more ill-defined. The spilled images shimmered and danced in American parlors. Television became, gradually, nondiscrete. Watching Television became, gradually, nonbinary. TV got tangled up in our lives, and there was no untangling. Our lives, which are on continuously (until they are off). You don’t turn a life on and off, off and on, on and off. Likewise with a TV, which is bound to life inseparably, inextricably. You wouldn’t (and couldn’t) turn it off even if you could. And you can’t — because there is no off switch, because the Televisions are built into the walls of homes, because they are in stores and restaurants, mounted in the corners above your booth, spilling pixels into your porridge. And most of all, because they are there (and on) even when they are not there. Did you ever see that one episode of
American Nightmare
where the insane guy wants to turn off his Television? And there’s no off switch and there’s no cord to pull out? And he’s going crazy, running around, screaming? It’s spooky, kind of, but it’s also hilarious. He’s running around with this wild look and finally he gets a gun and he stands in front of the big screen and he fires a shot right into it. And we’re at floor level looking up at the screen — the crazy guy’s screen — and we see it like explode and we hear something fall to the ground and then we see the crazy guy’s foot twitching at the bottom right of our screen. Through our screen we see his exploded screen and his foot. And when the cops come later, they find the guy on the floor with a single bullet through his head. That’s a cool one.

Mr. Norman staring at the Television on the staircase. Red arrows and blue arrows battle for meteorological supremacy. Clouds and decimal points race along coastlines. Happy yellow suns, happier and yellower than real suns, are scattered across a map. The suns have smiley faces, even though they are leaving burn marks in the earth.

There is a thunderstorm warning, a heat advisory, a wind alert, a smog watch, a pollen alarm, a low-pressure trough, an Appalachian wedge, a hurricane stage three. There is weather
everywhere
. Weather is assaulting this defenseless planet and it’s like nobody gives a damn.

In the top right corner of the Television is a small box tuned to a different channel. Picture in picture: Extreme Weather’s award-winning weathermentary,
Tsunami Tsurvival!
Slow-motion footage of a piece of rice slicing through a car door.

Mrs. Norman walks by. She says, “Interesting footage.”

Damn right, it’s unbelievable footage, we’re talking never-before-seen footage. Mr. Norman is pretty interested in the footage, but there’s Matthew staring, impassive, unimpressed. Something’s not right.

Sometimes Mr. Norman has the vague feeling that Matthew is gay. He thinks he would be OK with his son’s homosexuality, just fine. When the time comes he would have a talk with him.

Mr. Norman might say, “Son, I’m straight but not narrow.”

He would say, “Matty, hate is NOT a family value.”

He might add, “I’m glad we had this talk. Celebrate diversity.”

Mr. Norman says, “I think it’s raining.”

Curtis, the younger boy, whose scholastic efforts have earned the Normans this trip to Las Vegas, a pudgy child, unathletic, unequivocally pro-Bear, a good kid, friendly, outgoing, not much of a reader, a pretty decent PlayMax Extreme Death Match player, says, “What?”

Mr. Norman says, “I think it’s raining.” To himself he adds, “Gay pride.”

Sedge Kellerman, the weather guy, says, “The Bear Index (BI) refers to how hot a bear would be at this temperature.”

Picture in picture: Asian youngsters whistling through a school-yard like bullets. Pretty stock footage.

Curtis says, “No, I was just outside putting the satellite dish on the Sport Utility Vehicle. It’s threatening, but it’s not raining.”

Mr. Norman says, “But look at this satellite photo.”

Mrs. Norman, up from the Net Nook, stares at the Television on the staircase. She says, “That’s a satellite photo of Finland.”

Curtis (the younger boy) says, “Are they the Dutch?”

Mr. Norman says, “What is barometric pressure?”

Curtis says, “My teacher says the Dutch don’t have a culture anymore. It’s been taken away.”

Matthew says, “What I’m asking you is who would want the Dutch culture?”

Curtis says, “Her gardener is a Dutch and he’s bitter and kind of hunched over and he says the culture has been sucked bloodless.”

Mrs. Norman is so upright she’s almost leaning backward.

Sedge says, “It looks like clear weather today for our pilots. It’s a good day for air strikes, Chuck.”

Mrs. Norman says, “Barometric pressure is how hard the sky is pressing down on us.”

Mr. Norman says, “But gravity is a constant. That’s one of Newton’s quips.”

The younger boy, Curtis, says, “It turns out that Newton may not really have gotten an apple shot off of his head.”

Mrs. Norman says, “Then what’s dew point?”

Mr. Norman’s older son (Matthew) says, “Wooden shoes and tulips and fjords? No thanks, you can have it.”

Chuck (Sedge’s co-anchor on the TWN Plus morning shift) says, “Good luck, boys. Come home with your shield or on it.”

Mr. Norman says, “Turns out the record high for today is only eighty-five.”

Matthew says, “Is that metric or what?”

Curtis says, “I think that’s Weather Europe, Dad.”

Sedge Kellerman says, “Now back to Gail at the Humidity Desk.”

Mrs. Norman checks the Internet. She says it turns out that the Dutch have worked hard to retain a thriving, vibrant culture.

Upstairs, a bright-toothed, square-jawed young man in a hooded raincoat shares a split screen with a button-cute Television Personality. They’re both going places, you can just see it.

She (Lee Ann Cordero) says, Let’s check in with Trevor Foxx out at the Singer Outdoor Pavilion. Well, Trevor, looks like you need gills out there.

All I want to know is, are these two doing it or not?

He (Trevor Foxx) says, Ha, ha. That’s right, Lee Ann.

Lee Ann says, Trevor, tell us what you’ve seen out there this morning. I mean, besides slanty rain.

Trevor Foxx says, Well, Lee Ann, an estimated crowd of 10,000 braved the wretched weather today to attend Reverend Marty Munson’s special address here at the Singer Outdoor Pavilion. Reverend Munson, who was paroled last week, spoke for about an hour, primarily about the importance of faith in today’s hectic world. He also urged the people to send their prayers to the families of the mudslide victims in Mexico City and to the refugees in Illinois.

Damn, you know they’re doing it. And they deserve one another, such beautiful people.

Lee Ann Cordero says, Trevor, did the Reverend appear to be in good health?

Trevor Foxx smiles.

Lee Ann Cordero says, Trevor?

Trevor Foxx smiles. Those
teeth
.

Lee Ann Cordero says, Trevor?

Trevor Foxx turns to his right. He says, Are we still on?

Lee Ann Cordero says, We appear to be having what we in the business call technical difficulties.

Trevor says, I guess not.

Lee Ann says, We’ll get this straightened out and get back to Trevor as soon as possible.

Trevor says, Gills, that’s real funny. Barbie sits on her big ass in that studio, while I’m in this goddamn monsoon. If I had cleavage like that, you think I’d keep getting passed over?

Maybe they were doing it at one time and are no longer doing it.

Trevor shrugs and then peers into the monitor, tilting his head sideways. He says, I wish I could grow sideburns. One side comes in fine, but the other side is like the fucking mange or something.

Lee Ann says, Thank you, Trevor, for that report.

Trevor Foxx looks back at the camera. He says, Lee Ann?

Lee Ann says, Trevor?

Trevor Foxx says, Lee Ann?

It’s pretty obvious they still have feelings for one another. You can’t help but pull for them.

Trevor Foxx says, Lee Ann, in a question-and-answer period after Reverend Munson’s talk, someone asked him if God is rooting for the bear or the shark. Reverend Munson drew a mixed and vocal response when he said that he had had plenty of time in the slammer to think about this question and he had decided that God loves all of his creatures equally — but just maybe He loves bears a little more.

Lee Ann says, Interesting, Trevor.

Trevor says, Back to you, Lee Ann.

Lee Ann says, Thanks, Trevor, and go get yourself some hot soup.