What Doesn't Kill Us by Scott Carney

Author:Scott Carney
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Rodale
Published: 2016-03-20T16:00:00+00:00

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1 Doctors define “overweight” as a body mass index, or BMI, of 25 or greater. A BMI of 30 or greater is considered obese.

2 Presumably, the mice that had their BAT activated through the chemical in Phillips’s laboratory spent a lot longer in the cold than what could be dealt with solely through insulation.

8

IT’S RAINING INSIDE

No one notices when the first drops of water begin to form on the ceiling. I am standing in the upstairs shower warming in a cascade of hot water after my morning dip in Hof’s ice-cold pool. The house is a brand new acquisition to the Iceman business and there are still a few kinks to work out. One of which is that the drain in the middle of the bathroom floor tends to get clogged with debris. As I stand there oblivious to the potential problem, water pools in the center of the room until it overflows a marble threshold tile and then spills out into the hallway. From there it follows the will of gravity, slipping between the cracks in the wood, and seeping into the space between the subfloor and downstairs ceiling. The soapy water collects in the cavity until it saturates the materials below.

When Hof bursts into the bathroom, my first thought is that he somehow knew I’d dared heat myself up in a shower, and that he is going to scold me until I turn the faucet to a temperature that will shock my nervous system into submission. Instead he yells at me in a mixture of Dutch and English before pushing me aside and turning off the knob. It is only my second day in Holland and I’ve already flooded his brand new house. I wrap myself in a towel and head down the staircase to survey the damage myself.

Hundreds of droplets hang precariously from the ceiling. Each slowly elongates until it grows too heavy and comes splashing down into the middle of his living room. They pepper the sofa, his guitar, and his television. Hof’s dog, Zina, barks happily at the impromptu rainstorm. There are three of us in the room: me, Hof, and a redheaded American acolyte named Anton Nicola who has just finished a recent winter training session in Poland. Together we push furniture out of the way and scrounge rags and towels from the bare closets to sop up the deluge. Minutes pass and if anything the storm just grows stronger. A knot forms in my stomach when I realized that the ceiling might collapse. It is all my fault, but when I look over at Hof he is standing in the middle of the torrent with his hands raised over his head. A broad smile beams across his face when he starts shouting.

“It’s a miracle! Can you believe it’s raining inside my house? What luck!” Hof dances amid the droplets, letting the water fall where it might like some sort of deranged rain god. It’s not the reaction I expect or that I would mete out to my own guest in the same situation.

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