97 Citiesbuiltonsandarebynatureephemeral.Vegaswasnodifferent. Itwasalwaysakindofmiragethatyoucouldmoveinto.Thehotels playeditupbigintheolddaysbeforethetowngotuppityandbecame oneoftheworld’s“great”cities.Thinkaboutit.BeforeWynnwasthe Mirage, before Excalibur was the Dunes, before Paris was the Sahara, beforeMonteCarlowastheDesertInn,beforeVenetianwastheSands. Anyway,yougettheidea.Thetownknewitwasinthedesert.Thenitgot greedy,andsonoisyitdidn’thearthedesertwindsblowingtheirwarning .Itforgotwhowasboss. Movingtwoandahalfmillionpeopleintoamirageisprobablyabad idea.Whenthereareonlyfourmajorhighwaysinandoutofthatmirage, it’sprobablyaworseidea.Addtothatrailroadtrainscarryinghazardous wastesrunningbehindtheStriphotelsandthewholethingisareally lousyidea.Then,ofcourse,there’stheproblemofwater.Justforkicks addanucleartestsitenearbyandwholethingbecomesevengoofier than Dubai’sbuildingislandsintheocean.Theydidn’tlistentotheocean’s voiceanymorethanVegaslistenedtothedesert.Butthat’sanotherstory. Yet, insane as it seems, it worked until the butterfly that flaps its wingsinChinaandcausesatornadoinKansaswentintooverdriveand thelightsandeverythingelsewentoutinVegas.Talkaboutthebutterfly effect! The butterfly’s name was Hank, which is, I realize, a strange name forabutterfly,butitwasHankwhosetoffthechainofcircumstances thatleftsofewtolistentothewindsblowingthroughthecanyonsofthe emptycity. Oncehehadbeenacolorful,ifminor,characteraroundtown.When 4/18 FELICIA CAMPBELL 98 ♦ F E L I C I A C A M P B E L L thecolorfaded,whatwasleftofHankwasprettydismal.Asmall-time gamblerwhohadoutlivedbothhispalsandhisenvironment,hecombed hisfewremainingstrandsofreddishhairacrosshispatchinaneffort to conceal his baldness when shaving his head would have been the coolthingtodo.Hisgrizzledstubblewasfarfromcool.Hisshoulders stooped,hissportsjacketrodeupinback,sofaroutofstylethatitwas almostbackagain,andheincessantlymovedhisjawbackandforth.He peeredattheworldthroughgiantglassesthatmadehimlooklikeafly. Thestreetsinwhichhe’dfeltlikeaconqueringherowhentheglasses werenewnowmadehimfeellikeafly,thegigantichighriseslooming, readytoswathim.Hewaspissed,royallypissed. Therewasn’tajointleftontheStripordowntownthathecouldwalk intoasthoughheownedit.Hehadgraduallybeenedgedouttotherundown casinosonBoulderHighway,buteventheretheoldfacesinthepit hadbeenreplacedbyhipyoungoneswholookedrightthroughhim.He hadbecomeinvisible,which,hedimlyrealized,couldbeonehellofan advantageifyouplantobringdownamightycity. Intheafternoons,hereadthemorningnewspapersthathescrounged inthecoffeeshopswhereheatehislatebreakfastandbegantoformulate aplan.Heknewthetouristshadstayedawayindrovesafter9/11.The townhadbeenweird.Withalmostnoairorgroundtraffic, thesilence hadbeenpalpable.Theparkingtowersatthehotelswereemptyofall butafewoftheemployees’cars.Youcouldhavefired agunthroughthe casinopitsandnothitanybodybutafake-tannedpitboss,awhey-faced dealer,oraboredhookercarryingherstilettoheelsinherhand.Whathe neededwastocreatesomethinglikethatbutbetter,different,something thatwouldlastforever.Itwouldbehisrevenge,hismonument. Hefinally rememberedstoriestoldbyhisbuddyJCthatscientistsat the test site or the university or somewhere years ago had worked on creatinggermsormicrobesorsomethinglikethatthatwereimpervious toradiationandcouldneatlywipeoutanyofthepopulationleftafter anuclearattackormakenuking...