Mapping the limits of the soul 3B: Pearl Harbor
Today I rolled down to Pearl Harbor. Our boat (home for the next six weeks) is berthed down there. As a green-card weilding alien, they let me in. Serious security. Very serious.
San Diego is a military town in a lot of ways. It has a major naval presence. But this is different. There are underground access points to the base and its weird subterranean secrets all over the place (including outside the base). There are bunkers everywhere. The old Dole Pineapple Factory, now a mall (although strangely, eerily deserted), has fallout shelters in it.
When you are in Pearl Harbor, you are in the middle of a tangible extension of American Imperial Power. Pearl Harbor is a steel naval fist sitting in the middle of the Pacific, reaching west.
And everybody knows, and that knowledge is in the air here on the base.
And so, if a war against the US comes, here will be one of the places where the hammer falls.
I have visions of pineapple packers running for shelters, and coconuts falling from the trees to explosive concussions.