I point out that he may have his etymology backward—the develop-

[120]

Ment of our language may have followed the religion and philosophy of the people, creating these connections after the fact.

"I believe instinctively," Bono says, "that if we follow logic all the way to the smallest point we will find God."

"In every grain of sand?" I ask.

"Exactly," Bono says as we settle the check. "As the seed has all the genetic information for the tree. As a cell contains more information than any computer chip."

Driving back through town, this Reli.Stu. seminar gets onto the topic of liberation theology, the radical brand of Catholicism practiced in some parts of Latin America that encouraged victims of dictatorship to take up arms against their oppressors. Bono says that when he and Ali were in Central America they journeyed one day into an area where they could feel the earth shaking from nearby artillery and at one point had shots fired over their heads. Ali is fearless; she insisted on forging ahead. Finally they came to a town. One the side of a building someone had spray-painted "Fuck Jesus."

Bono recoiled. So here on the front lines, this is what they think of liberation theology, here is how they have despaired of God's mercy, here is how they lost faith in the savior of their fathers. He expressed all that to his guide and showed him the blasphemy.

"Not Jesus Christ!" The guide told him. "Fuck Hey-zoos—he lives around the corner!"

We land back at the Sunset Marquis, where four kids are waiting outside with cameras and U2 albums. Bono walks over and says he appreciates their support and he's happy to sign autographs and pose for pictures after gigs, but he'd appreciate it if they didn't hang around for days on end outside his hotel, because it makes him feel like a celebrity and he's not a celebrity: he's a rock & roller.

"That sounds good, Bono," I say, "but if you're not a celebrity how do you explain these eight teenage girls charging down the street toward you?" Bono looks up just before he's engulfed in squeals and giggles.

I go back up to my room and find a notice to show up in a special Zoo medical room for my pre-Mexico injections. I drag myself up to the appointed suite where a dubious-looking doctor is instructing a line of Zoo people to bend over and drop their pants and roll up their sleeves. A long needle in the ass for hepatitis and a short needle in the arm for tetanus.

 [121]

There are all sorts of horror stories floated about the dysentery in Mexico. People say don't drink the water, don't even eat fruit or vegeta­bles washed in water. Edge says he's been warned not to shower. "Of course," he concedes, "that could add to the problem."

At suppertime I go off to visit T-Bone in a rented mansion where he's producing the first album for a San Francisco band called Counting Crows. I got a self-produced demo tape from them about a year ago and unlike every other such self-made demo, it was really good. I knew the A & R man who signed them and I knew he had wanted to put them in a house to make their first album rather than a studio. I was surprised to find out that's what T-Bone was working on and was happy for the chance to go by and eavesdrop. The mansion they've rented is one of those white elephants built for millions during the eighties gold rush to sell for millions more, but not made for people to live in. The pool is cracking and water is running down the side of the mountain, and there're low-hanging objects on which the band members bang their heads as they walk around. I have the good timing to arrive at supper-time, hang around up there for a while, and break the key off in the door of my rental car. By the time I get it replaced and make it back to the Marquis, Bono, Adam, and Larry have left for work.

No one can find the Edge, but progress at the TV studio continues cranking along. There are three rooms working now, in two different buildings. Larry and Adam are in one, overseeing nuances of the sound mix that no TV speaker will ever detect. They're listening to the moment before the band begins, separating and assigning levels to the white noise from the Zoo TV screens, the ambient crowd noise and the direct crowd noise. "There are three loud bursts of applause," Larry says. "The first when the lights go down, the second when people see the band, the third when they see Bono's silhouette."

During a quick coffee break Larry mentions Clinton's victory. "I'm excited," he says. "I think he has a chance to restore balance. That's my philosophy for this year: Balance." He then goes back to balancing the sound.

Bono is in the other room arguing with the producer, who to Bono's horror showed a rough cut of the program to Fox TV executives, who objected to the burning crosses in "Bullet the Blue Sky" and to the use of the words nigger and queer in Burroughs's monologue.

"This is one of America's greatest living writers!" Bono says. "If

[122]

they're going to censor him there's going to be real trouble! I'll pull the show. I thought this was being broadcast direct by satellite, I thought Fox was going to have no control over it."

Wearily, the producer explains to Bono that the show is being broad­cast by satellite in the rest of the world, but not in the U.S.; that Fox has every right, contractual and moral, to see the show before they air it; and they may yet exercise their right not to show it at all.

Bono walks out in the parking lot where he is delighted to see his long lost friend, the Edge. "Reg!" he cries in a loud, goofy voice as kids hanging on the corner do triple takes. "Where have you been?"

Edge says he went off to see Ronnie Wood play at a local club and ended up hanging with an actress who goes out with Ben Stiller, a TV comedian who does a nasty impersonation of Bono. "Tell him to stop making fun of me, Edge!" Bono cries. "Tell him glamorous people have feelings too!"

They go back inside, where Larry is objecting to a sampled bit from a news broadcast that refers to a serial killer striking again. "It's obviously being played for a joke," Larry says, "and I don't feel right about that."

Edge reaches over and grabs Larry's arm and says, "It's true, he doesn't feel right."

The producer—really turning on the Hollywood hyperbole, leans forward and insists, "The important thing is it makes you feel something."

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