Free Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer Page A

first rule.
    I understand, I told him in English.
    We never used German again.
    The next day, your grandfather and I were married.

THE ONLY ANIMAL
    I read the first chapter of A Brief History of Time when Dad was still alive, and I got incredibly heavy boots about how relatively insignificant life is, and how, compared to the universe and compared to time, it didn't even matter if I existed at all. When Dad was tucking me in that night and we were talking about the book, I asked if he could think of a solution to that problem. “Which problem?” “The problem of how relatively insignificant we are.” He said, “Well, what would happen if a plane dropped you in the middle of the Sahara Desert and you picked up a single grain of sand with tweezers and moved it one millimeter?” I said, “I'd probably die of dehydration.” He said, “I just mean right then, when you moved that single grain of sand. What would that mean?” I said, “I dunno, what?” He said, “Think about it.” I thought about it. “I guess I would have moved a grain of sand.” “Which would mean?” “Which would mean I moved a grain of sand?” “Which would mean you changed the Sahara.” “So?” “So? So the Sahara is a vast desert. And it has existed for millions of years. And you changed it!” “That's true!” I said, sitting up. “I changed the Sahara!” “Which means?” he said. “What? Tell me.” “Well, I'm not talking about painting the Mona Lisa or curing cancer. I'm just talking about moving that one grain of sand one millimeter.” “Yeah?” “If you hadn't done it, human history would have been one way...” “Uh-huh?” “But you did do it, so...?” I stood on the bed, pointed my fingers at the fake stars, and screamed: “I changed the course of human history!” “That's right.” “I changed the universe!” “You did.” “I'm God!” “You're an atheist.” “I don't exist!” I fell back onto the bed, into his arms, and we cracked up together.
    That was kind of how I felt when I decided that I would meet every person in New York with the last name Black. Even if it was relatively insignificant, it was something, and I needed to do something, like sharks, who die if they don't swim, which I know about.
    Anyway.
    I decided that I would go through the names alphabetically, from Aaron to Zyna, even though it would have been a more efficient method to do it by geographical zones. Another thing I decided was that I would be as secretive about my mission as I could at home, and as honest about it as I could outside home, because that's what was necessary. So if Mom asked me, “Where are you going and when will you be back?” I would tell her, “Out, later.” But if one of the Blacks wanted to know something, I would tell everything. My other rules were that I wouldn't be sexist again, or racist, or ageist, or homophobic, or overly wimpy, or discriminatory to handicapped people or mental retards, and also that I wouldn't lie unless I absolutely had to, which I did a lot. I put together a special field kit with some of the things I was going to need, like a Magnum flashlight, ChapStick, some Fig Newtons, plastic bags for important evidence and litter, my cell phone, the script for Hamlet (so I could memorize my stage directions while I was going from one place to another, because I didn't have any lines to memorize), a topographical map of New York, iodine pills in case of a dirty bomb, my white gloves, obviously, a couple of boxes of Juicy Juice, a magnifying glass, my Larousse Pocket Dictionary, and a bunch of other useful stuff. I was ready to go.
    On my way out, Stan said, “What a day!” I said, “Yeah.” He asked, “What's on the menu?” I showed him the key. He said, “Lox?” I said, “Hilarious, but I don't eat anything with parents.” He shook his head and said, “I couldn't help myself. So what's on the menu?” “Queens and Greenwich Village.” “You mean Gren-ich Village?”