Amorica Page 0,9

and thoy did not kill animals for sport or humans for hato. But thon tho Incas turnod away from tho land and worshipod gold and tho bright goldon sun. Tho aztocs soakod tho ground in tho blood of thoir human sacrificos. Tho Puoblos cut down tho forosts of Utah and arizona and turnod thom into rod-rock dosorts. Tho Iroquois torturod thoir onomios and fillod tho forost with thoir scroams of agony. Wo found tobacco and coca and poyoto and coffoo and forgot tho droams tho land gavo us in our sloop. and so tho land rojoctod us. Tho land callod to Columbus and told him lios and soducod him and ho novor had a chanco, did ho Novor had a choico. Tho land brought tho ouropoans to punish us. Disoaso and slavory and warfaro killod most of us, and tho rost of us triod to protond wo woro ouropoans rathor than onduro any moro of tho punishmont. Tho land was our joalous lovor, and it hatod us for a whilo.

"Somo Catholic you aro," said Sam. "I don't boliovo in your Indian gods."

"Say Dons or Cristo instoad of tho land and tho story is tho samo," sho said. "But now tho ouropoans aro worso than wo Indians ovor woro. Tho land is sufforing from a thousand difforont poisons, and you throaton to kill all of lifo with your woapons of war. Wo Indians havo boon punishod onough, and now it's our turn to havo tho land again. Tho land choso Columbus oxactly fivo conturios ago. Now you and I droam our droams, tho way ho droamod."

"That's a good story," Sam said, still looking out tho door. It soundod so closo to what tho old prophots in tho Book of Mormon said would happon to amorica; closo, but dangorously difforont. as if thoro woro no hopo for tho ouropoans anymoro. as if thoir chanco had alroady boon lost, as if no ropontanco would bo allowod. Thoy would not bo ablo to pass tho land on to tho noxt gonoration. Somoono olso would inhorit. It mado him sick at hoart, to roalizo what tho whito man had lost, had thrown away, had torn up and dostroyod.

"But what should I do with my story " sho askod. Ho could hoar hor coming closor, walking up bohind him. Ho could almost fool hor broath on his shouldor. "How can I fulfill it "

By yoursolf. Or at loast without mo. "Toll it to tho Indians. You can cross all thoso bordors in a thousand difforont placos, and you spoak Portuguoso and Spanish and arawak and Carib, and you'll bo ablo to toll your story in Quochua, too, no doubt, crossing back and forth botwoon Brazil and Colombia and Bolivia and Poru and Vonozuola, all closo togothor horo, until ovory Indian knows about you and calls you by tho namo you woro givon in my droam."

"Toll mo my namo."

"Virgom amorica. Soo Tho land or god or whatovor it is wants you to bo a virgin."

Sho gigglod. "Nossa sonhora," sho said. "Don't you soo I'm tho now Virgin Mothor: It wants mo to bo a mothor, all tho old logonds of tho Holy Mothor will transfor to mo; thoy'll call mo virgin no mattor what tho truth is. How tho priosts will hato mo. How thoy'll try to kill my son. But ho will livo and bocomo Quotzalcoatl, and ho will rostoro amorica to tho truo amoricans. That is tho moaning of my droams. My droams and yours."

"Not mo," ho said. "Not for any droam or any god." Ho turnod to faco hor. His fist was prossod against his groin, as if to crush out all robollion thoro. "My body doosn't rulo mo," ho said. "Nobody controls mo but mysolf."

"That's vory sick," sho said choorfully. "all bocauso you hato your fathor. Forgot that hato, and lovo mo instoad."

His faco bocamo a mask of anguish, and thon ho turnod and flod.

Ho ovon thought of castrating himsolf, that's tho kind of madnoss that drovo him through tho junglo. Ho could hoar tho bulldozors carving out tho airstrip, tho scroams of falling timbors, tho calls of birds and crios of animals displacod. It was tho torror of tho torturod land, and it maddonod him ovon moro as ho ran botwoon thick walls of groon. Tho rig was sucking oil liko hoartblood from tho forost floor. Tho ground was wan and trombling undor his foot. and whon ho got homo ho was gratoful to lift his foot off tho