白噪音(White Noise) (英文版)作者:唐·德里罗(Don DeLillo)-第36章

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　fingers；　old　belts　and　neckties。　I　came　upon　stacks　of　student　reports；　broken　rods　for　the　seats　of　director's　chairs。　I　threw　these　away。　I　threw　away　every　aerosol　can　that　didn't　have　a　top。
　　The　gas　meter　made　a　particular　noise。
　　That　night　on　TV　I　saw　newsfilm　of　policemen　carrying　a　body　bag　out　of　someone's　backyard　in　Bakersville。　The　reporter　said　two　bodies　had　been　found；　more　were　believed　buried　in　the　same　yard。　Perhaps　many　more。　Perhaps　twenty　bodies；　thirty　bodies—　no　one　knew　for　sure。　He　swept　an　arm　across　the　area。　It　was　a　big　backyard。
　　The　reporter　was　a　middle…aged　man　who　spoke　clearly　and　strongly　and　yet　with　some　degree　of　intimacy；　conveying　a　sense　of　frequent　contact　with　his　audience；　of　shared　interests　and　mutual　trust。　Digging　would　continue　through　the　night；　he　said；　and　the　station　would　cut　back　to　the　scene　as　soon　as　developments　warranted。　He　made　it　sound　like　a　lover's　promise。
　　Three　nights　later　I　wandered　into　Heinrich's　room；　where　the　TV　set　was　temporarily　located。　He　sat　on　the　floor　in　a　hooded　sweatshirt；　watching　live　coverage　of　the　same　scene。　The　backyard　was　floodlit；　men　with　picks　and　shovels　worked　amid　mounds　of　dirt。　In　the　foreground　stood　the　reporter；　bareheaded；　in　a　sheepskin　coat；　in　a　light　snow；　giving　an　update。　The　police　said　they　had　solid　information；　the　diggers　were　methodical　and　skilled；　the　work　had　been　going　on　for　over　seventy…two　hours。　But　no　more　bodies　had　been　found。
　　The　sense　of　failed　expectations　was　total。　A　sadness　and　emptiness　hung　over　the　scene。　A　dejection；　a　sorry　gloom。　We　felt　it　ourselves；　my　son　and　I；　quietly　watching。　It　was　in　the　room；　seeping　into　the　air　from　pulsing　streams　of　electrons。　The　reporter　seemed　at　first　merely　apologetic。　But　as　he　continued　to　discuss　the　absense　of　mass　graves；　he　grew　increasingly　forlorn；　gesturing　at　the　diggers；　shaking　his　head；　almost　ready　to　plead　with　us　for　sympathy　and　understanding。　I　tried　not　to　feel　disappointed。
　　30
　　In　the　dark　the　mind　runs　on　like　a　devouring　machine；　the　only　thing　awake　in　the　universe。　I　tried　to　make　out　the　walls；　the　dresser　in　the　corner。　It　was　the　old　defenseless　feeling。　Small；　weak；　deathbound；　alone。　Panic；　the　god　of　woods　and　wilderness；　half　goat。　I　moved　my　head　to　the　right；　remembering　the　clock…radio。　I　watched　the　numbers　change；　the　progression　of　digital　minutes；　odd　to　even。　They　glowed　green　in　the　dark。
　　After　a　while　I　woke　up　Babette。　Warm　air　came　rising　from　her　body　as　she　shifted　toward　me。　Contented　air。　A　mixture　of　forgetfulness　and　sleep。　Where　am　I；　who　are　you；　what　was　I　dreaming？
　　〃We　have　to　talk；〃　I　said。
　　She　mumbled　things；　seemed　to　fend　off　some　hovering　presence。　When　I　reached　for　the　lamp；　she　gave　me　a　backhand　punch　in　the　arm。　The　light　went　on。　She　retreated　toward　the　radio；　covering　her　head　and　moaning。
　　〃You　can't　get　away。　There　are　things　we　have　to　talk　about。　I　want　access　to　Mr。　Gray。　I　want　the　real　name　of　Gray　Research。〃
　　All　she　could　do　was　moan；　〃No。〃
　　〃I'm　reasonable　about　this。　I　have　a　sense　of　perspective。　No　huge　hopes　or　expectations。　I　only　want　to　check　it　out；　give　it　a　try。　I　don't　believe　in　magical　objects。　I　only　say；　'Let　me　try；　let　me　see。'　I've　been　lying　here　for　hours　practically　paralyzed。　I'm　drenched　in　sweat。　Feel　my　chest；　Babette。〃
　　〃Five　more　minutes。　I　need　to　sleep。〃
　　〃Feel。　Give　me　your　hand。　See　how　wet。〃
　　〃We　all　sweat；〃　she　said。　〃What　is　sweat？〃
　　〃There　are　rivulets　here。〃
　　〃You　want　to　ingest。　No　good；　Jack。〃
　　〃All　I　ask　is　a　few　minutes　alone　with　Mr。　Gray；　to　find　out　if　I　qualify。〃
　　〃He'll　think　you　want　to　kill　him。〃
　　〃But　that's　crazy。　I'd　be　crazy。　How　can　I　kill　him？〃
　　〃He'll　know　I　told　you　about　the　motel。〃
　　〃The　motel　is　over　and　done。　I　can't　change　the　motel。　Do　I　kill　the　only　man　who　can　relieve　my　pain？　Feel　under　my　arms　if　you　don't　believe　me。〃
　　〃He'll　think　you're　a　husband　with　a　grudge。〃
　　〃The　motel　is　frankly　small　grief。　Do　I　kill　him　and　feel　better？　He　doesn't　have　to　know　who　I　am。　I　make　up　an　identity；　I　invent　a　context。　Help　me；　please。〃
　　〃Don't　tell　me　you　sweat。　What　is　sweat？　I　gave　the　man　my　word。〃
　　In　the　morning　we　sat　at　the　kitchen　table。　The　clothes　dryer　was　running　in　the　entranceway。　I　listened　to　the　tapping　sound　of　buttons　and　zippers　as　they　struck　the　surface　of　the　drum。
　　〃I　already　know　what　I　want　to　say　to　him。　I'll　be　descriptive；　clinical。　No　philosophy　or　theology。　I'll　appeal　to　the　pragmatist　in　him。　He's　bound　to　be　impressed　by　the　fact　that　I'm　actually　scheduled　to　die。　This　is　frankly　more　than　you　could　claim。　My　need　is　intense。　I　believe　he'll　respond　to　this。　Besides；　he'll　want　another　crack　at　a　live　subject。　That's　the　way　these　people　are。〃
　　〃How　do　I　know　you　won't　kill　him？〃
　　〃You're　my　wife。　Am　I　a　killer？〃
　　〃You're　a　man；　Jack。　We　all　know　about　men　and　their　insane　rage。　This　is　something　men　are　very　good　at。　Insane　and　violent　jealousy。　Homicidal　rage。　When　people　are　good　at　something；　it's　only　natural　that　they　look　for　a　chance　to　do　this　thing。　If　I　were　good　at　it；　I　would　do　it。　It　happens　I'm　not。　So　instead　of　going　into　homicidal　rages；　I　read　to　the　blind。　In　other　words　I　know　my　limits。　I　am　willing　to　settle　for　less。〃
　　〃What　did　I　do　to　deserve　this？　This　is　not　like　you。　Sarcastic；　mocking。〃
　　〃Leave　it　alone；〃　she　said。　〃Dylar　was　my　mistake。　I　won't　let　you　make　it　yours　as　well。〃
　　We　listened　to　the　tap　and　scratch　of　buttons　and　zipper　tabs。　It　was　time　for　me　to　leave　for　school。　The　voice　upstairs　remarked：　〃A　California　think…tank　says　the　next　world　war　may　be　fought　over　salt。〃
　　All　afternoon　I　stood　by　the　window　in　my　office；　watching　the　Observatory。　It　was　growing　dark　when　Winnie　Richards　appeared　at　the　side　door；　looked　both　ways；　then　began　moving　in　a　wolf…trot　along　the　sloping　turf。　I　hurried　out　of　my　office　and　down　the　stairs。　In　seconds　I　was　out　on　a　cobbled　path；　running。　Almost　at　once　I　experienced　a　strange　elation；　the　kind　of　bracing　thrill　that　marks　the　recovery　of　a　lost　pleasure。　I　saw　her　turn　a　corner　in　a　controlled　skid　before　she　disappeared　behind　a　maintenance　building。　I　ran　as　fast　as　I　could；　cutting　loose；　cutting　into　the　wind；　running　chest　out；　head　high；　my　arms　pumping　hard。　She　reappeared　at　the　edge　of　the　library；　an　alert　and　stealthy　figure　moving　beneath　the　arched　windows；　nearly　lost　to　the　dusk。　When　she　drew　near　the　steps　she　suddenly　accelerated；　going　full　tilt　from　what　was　almost　a　standing　start。　This　was　a　deft　and　lovely　maneuver　that　I　was　able　to　appreciate　even　as　it　put　me　at　a　disadvantage。　I　decided　to　cut　behind　the　library　and　pick　her　up　on　the　long　straight　approach　to　the　chemistry　labs。　Briefly　I　ran　alongside　the　members　of　the　lacrosse　team　as　they　charged　off　a　field　after　practice。　We　ran　step　for　step；　the　players　waving　their　sticks　in　a　ritualized　manner　and　chanting　something　I　couldn't　understand。　When　I　reached　the　broad　path　I　was　gasping　for　breath。　Winnie　was　nowhere　in　sight。　I　ran　through　the　faculty　parking　lot；　past　the　starkly　modern　chapel；　around　the　administration　building。　The　wind　was　audible　now；　creaking　in　the　high　bare　branches。　I　ran　to　the　east；　changed　my　mind；　stood　looking　around；　removed　my　glasses　to　peer。　I　wanted　to　run；　I　was　willing　to　run。　I　would　run　as　far　as　I　could；　run　through　the　night；　run　to　forget　why　I　was　running。　After　some　moments　I　saw　a　figure　loping　up　a　hill　at　the　edge　of　the　campus。　It　had　to　be　her。　I　started　running　again；　knowing　she　was　too　far　away；　would　disappear　over　the　crest　of　the　hill；　would　not　resurface　for　weeks。　I　put　everything　I　had　into　a　final　climbing　burst；　charging　over　concrete；　grass；　then　gravel；　lungs　burning　in　my　chest；　a　heaviness　in　my　legs　that　seemed　the　very　pull　of　the　earth；　its　most　intimate　and　telling　judgment；　the　law　of　falling　bodies。
　　How　surprised　I　was；　nearing　the　top　of　the　hill；　to　see　that　she　had　stopped。　She　wore　a　Gore…Tex　jacket　puffed　up　with　insulation　and　she　was　looking　to　the　west。　I　walked　slowly　toward　her。　When　I　cleared　a　row　of　private　homes　I　saw　what　it　was　that　had　made　her　pause。　The　edge　of　the　earth　trembled　in　a　darkish　haze。　Upon　it　lay　the　sun；　going　down　like　a　ship　in　a　burning　sea。　Another　postmodern　sunset；　rich　in　romantic　imagery。　Why　try　to　describe　it？　It's　enough　to　sáy　that　everything　in　our　field　of　vision　seemed　to　exist　in　order　to　gather　the　light　of　this　event。　Not　that　this　was　one　of　the　stronger　sunsets。　There　had　been　more　dynamic　colors；　a　deeper　sense　of　narrative　sweep。
　　〃Hi；　Jack。　I　didn't　know　you　came　up　here。〃
　　〃I　usually　go　to　the　highway　overpass。〃
　　〃Isn't　this　something？〃
　　〃It's　beautiful　all　right。〃
　　〃Makes　me　think。　It　really　does。〃
　　〃What　do　you　think　about？〃
　　〃What　can　you　think　about　in　the　face　of　this　kind　of　beauty？　I　get　scared；　I　know　that。〃
　　〃This　isn't　one　of　the　scarier　ones。〃
　　〃It　scares　me。　Boy；　look　at　it。〃
　　〃Did　you　see　last　Tuesday？　A　powerful　and　stunning　sunset。　I　rate　this　one　average。　Maybe　they're　beginning　to　wind　down。〃
　　〃I　hope　not；〃　she　said。　〃I'd　miss　them。〃
　　〃Could　be　the　toxic　residue　in　the　atmosphere　is　diminishing。〃
　　〃There's　a　school　of　thought　that　says　it's　not　residue　from　the　cloud　that　causes　the　sunsets。　It's　residue　from　the　microorganisms　that　ate　the　cloud。〃
　　We　stood　there　watching　a　surge　of　florid　light；　like　a　heart　pumping　in　a　documentary　on　color　TV。
　　〃Remember　the　saucer…shaped　pill？〃
　　〃Of　course；〃　she　said。　〃A　super　piece　of　engineering。〃
　　〃I　found　out　what　it's　designed　to　do。　It's　designed　to　solve　an　ancient　problem。　Fear　of　death。　It　encourages　the　brain　to　produce　fear…of…death　inhibitors。〃
　　〃But　we　still　die。〃
　　〃Everyone　dies；　yes。〃
　　〃We　just　won't　be　afraid；〃　she　said。
　　〃That's　right。〃
　　〃Interesting；　I　guess。〃
　　〃Dylar　was　designed　by　a　secret　research　group。　I　believe　some　of　these　people　are　psychobiologists。　I　wonder　if　you've　heard　rumors　of　a　group　working　secretly　on　fear　of　death。〃
　　〃I'd　be　the　last　to　hear。　No　one　can　ever　find　me。　When　they　do　find　me；　it's　to　tell　me　something　important。〃
　　〃What　could　be　more　important？〃
　　〃You're　talking　about　gossip；　rumors。　This　is　thin　stuff；　Jack。　Who　are　these　people；　where　is　their　base？〃
　　〃That's　why　I've　been　chasing　you。　I　thought　you'd　know　something　about　them。　I　don't　even　know　what　a　psychobiologist　is。〃
　　〃It's　a　catchall　sort　of　thing。　Interdisciplinary。　The　real　work　is　in　the　pits。〃
　　〃Isn't　there　anything　you　can　tell　me？〃
　　Something　in　my　voice　made　her　turn　to　look　at　me。　Winnie　was　barely　into　her　thirties　but　she　had　a　sane　and　practiced　eye　for　the　half…concealed　disasters　that　constitute　a　life。　A　narrow　face　partly　hidden　by　wispy　brown　ringlets；　eyes　bright　and　excited。　She　had　the　beaky　and　hollow…boned　look　of　a　great　wading　creature。　Small　prim　mouth。　A　smile　that　was　permanently　in　conflict　with　some　inner　stricture　against　the　seductiveness　of　humor。　Murray　told　me　once　he　had　a　crush　on　her；　found　her　physical　awkwardness　a　sign　of　an　intelligence　dev