Time stands still at noon on Thursday. Buzzworm sees the second hands on his watches freeze and notices that every radio station was “holding their notes, their words, their voices, their dead air” (119). Some stations are filled with “dead air like a dead hum, a buzz: the eternal buzz” (119). Then, just as suddenly, time starts again.

News of poisoned oranges begins to come over the airwaves. The story develops rapidly in the first 22 minutes of reporting. The FDA is investigating the situation; it seems that the oranges are spiked with unknown chemicals, “Possibly extra vitamins. Possibly alcohol. Possibly marijuana. Possibly Prozac” (120). At the same time, Buzzworm hears talk shows singing the praises of oranges and vitamin C. Buzzworm thinks of Margarita: She was peeling an orange when she died. He remembers her giving him the imported orange the last time he saw her; he gave this to the young man whose body he visited in the morgue.

Buzzworm knows the LAPD is occupied with the situation on the freeway; they are more concerned with catching unhoused people who leave the new encampment. Meanwhile, oranges are quickly becoming a new contraband substance.