In Death Valley, the heat brought even the roadrunners to a stop. They stood arched to the sky with their beaks wide open, as if in a stupor, or indignant at what the sun was up to. The landscape blurred and undulated. People moved as if they were walking through glue. When a light breeze came in the afternoon, it stung their faces so badly they had to turn away from it. Water mains burst in the baking dirt, while the “cold” tap water came out of faucets the temperature of a Jacuzzi.