白噪音(White Noise) (英文版)作者:唐·德里罗(Don DeLillo)-第4部分

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　　〃No。〃
　　〃Extraordinary。　I　have　to　love　it。〃
　　The　three　of　us　left　together；　trying　to　maneuver　our　shopping　carts　between　the　paperback　books　scattered　across　the　entrance。　Murray　wheeled　one　of　our　carts　into　the　parking　lot　and　then　helped　us　heave　and　push　all　our　double…bagged　merchandise　into　the　back　of　the　station　wagon。　Cars　entered　and　exited。　The　policewoman　in　her　zippered　minicab　scouted　the　area　for　red　flags　on　the　parking　meters。　We　added　Murray's　single　lightweight　bag　of　white　items　to　our　load　and　headed　across　Elm　in　the　direction　of　his　rooming　house。　It　seemed　to　me　that　Babette　and　I；　in　the　mass　and　variety　of　our　purchases；　in　the　sheer　plenitude　those　crowded　bags　suggested；　the　weight　and　size　and　number；　the　familiar　package　designs　and　vivid　lettering；　the　giant　sizes；　the　family　bargain　packs　with　Day…Glo　sale　stickers；　in　the　sense　of　replenishment　we　felt；　the　sense　of　well…being；　the　security　and　contentment　these　products　brought　to　some　snug　home　in　our　souls—it　seemed　we　had　achieved　a　fullness　of　being　that　is　not　known　to　people　who　need　less；　expect　less；　who　plan　their　lives　around　lonely　walks　in　the　evening。
　　Murray　took　Babette's　hand　on　leaving。
　　〃I'd　ask　you　to　visit　my　room　but　it's　too　small　for　two　people　unless　they're　prepared　to　be　intimate。〃
　　Murray　is　able　to　produce　a　look　that　is　sneaky　and　frank　at　the　same　time。　It　is　a　look　that　gives　equal　credence　to　disaster　and　lecherous　success。　He　says　that　in　the　old　days　of　his　urban　entanglements　he　believed　there　was　only　one　way　to　seduce　a　woman；　with　clear　and　open　desire。　He　took　pains　to　avoid　self…depreciation；　self…mockery；　ambiguity；　irony；　subtlety；　vulnerability；　a　civilized　world…weariness　and　a　tragic　sense　of　history—　the　very　things；　he　says；　that　are　most　natural　to　him。　Of　these　he　has　allowed　only　one　element；　vulnerability；　to　insert　itself　gradually　into　his　program　of　straightforward　lust。　He　is　trying　to　develop　a　vulnerability　that　women　will　find　attractive。　He　works　at　it　consciously；　like　a　man　in　a　gym　with　weights　and　a　mirror。　But　his　efforts　so　far　have　produced　only　this　half　sneaky　look；　sheepish　and　wheedling。
　　He　thanked　us　for　the　lift。　We　watched　him　walk　toward　the　lopsided　porch；　propped　with　cinder　blocks；　where　a　man　in　a　rocker　stared　into　space。
　　6
　　Heinrich's　hairline　is　beginning　to　recede。　I　wonder　about　this。　Did　his　mother　consume　some　kind　of　gene…piercing　substance　when　she　was　pregnant？　Am　I　at　fault　somehow？　Have　I　raised　him；　unwittingly；　in　the　vicinity　of　a　chemical　dump　site；　in　the　path　of　air　currents　that　carry　industrial　wastes　capable　of　producing　scalp　degeneration；　glorious　sunsets？　（People　say　the　sunsets　around　here　were　not　nearly　so　stunning　thirty　or　forty　years　ago。）　Man's　guilt　in　history　and　in　the　tides　of　his　own　blood　has　been　plicated　by　technology；　the　daily　seeping　falsehearted　death。
　　The　boy　is　fourteen；　often　evasive　and　moody；　at　other　times　disturbingly　pliant。　I　have　a　sense　that　his　ready　yielding　to　our　wishes　and　demands　is　a　private　weapon　of　reproach。　Babette　is　afraid　he　will　end　up　in　a　barricaded　room；　spraying　hundreds　of　rounds　of　automatic　fire　across　an　empty　mall　before　the　SWAT　teams　e　for　him　with　their　heavy…barreled　weapons；　their　bullhorns　and　body　armor。
　　〃It's　going　to　rain　tonight。〃
　　〃It's　raining　now；〃　I　said。
　　〃The　radio　said　tonight。〃
　　I　drove　him　to　school　on　his　first　day　back　after　a　sore　throat　and　fever。　A　woman　in　a　yellow　slicker　held　up　traffic　to　let　some　children　cross。　I　pictured　her　in　a　soup　mercial　taking　off　her　oilskin　hat　as　she　entered　the　cheerful　kitchen　where　her　husband　stood　over　a　pot　of　smoky　lobster　bisque；　a　smallish　man　with　six　weeks　to　live。
　　〃Look　at　the　windshield；〃　I　said。　〃Is　that　rain　or　isn't　it？〃
　　〃I'm　only　telling　you　what　they　said。〃
　　〃Just　because　it's　on　the　radio　doesn't　mean　we　have　to　suspend　belief　in　the　evidence　of　our　senses。〃
　　〃Our　senses？　Our　senses　are　wrong　a　lot　more　often　than　they're　right。　This　has　been　proved　in　the　laboratory。　Don't　you　know　about　all　those　theorems　that　say　nothing　is　what　it　seems？　There's　no　past；　present　or　future　outside　our　own　mind。　The　so…called　laws　of　motion　are　a　big　hoax。　Even　sound　can　trick　the　mind。　Just　because　you　don't　hear　a　sound　doesn't　mean　it's　not　out　there。　Dogs　can　hear　it。　Other　animals。　And　I'm　sure　there　are　sounds　even　dogs　can't　hear。　But　they　exist　in　the　air；　in　waves。　Maybe　they　never　stop。　High；　high；　high…pitched。　ing　from　somewhere。〃
　　〃Is　it　raining；〃　I　said；　〃or　isn't　it？〃
　　〃I　wouldn't　want　to　have　to　say。〃
　　〃What　if　someone　held　a　gun　to　your　head？〃
　　〃Who；　you？〃
　　〃Someone。　A　man　in　a　trenchcoat　and　smoky　glasses。　He　holds　a　gun　to　your　head　and　says；　'Is　it　raining　or　isn't　it？　All　you　have　to　do　is　tell　the　truth　and　I'll　put　away　my　gun　and　take　the　next　flight　out　of　here。'〃
　　〃What　truth　does　he　want？　Does　he　want　the　truth　of　someone　traveling　at　almost　the　speed　of　light　in　another　galaxy？　Does　he　want　the　truth　of　someone　in　orbit　around　a　neutron　star？　Maybe　if　these　people　could　see　us　through　a　telescope　we　might　look　like　we　were　two　feet　two　inches　tall　and　it　might　be　raining　yesterday　instead　of　today。〃
　　〃He's　holding　the　gun　to　your　head。　He　wants　your　truth。〃
　　〃What　good　is　my　truth？　My　truth　means　nothing。　What　if　this　guy　with　the　gun　es　from　a　planet　in　a　whole　different　solar　system？　What　we　call　rain　he　calls　soap。　What　we　call　apples　he　calls　rain。　So　what　am　I　supposed　to　tell　him？〃
　　〃His　name　is　Frank　J。　Smalley　and　he　es　from　St。　Louis。〃
　　〃He　wants　to　know　if　it's　raining　now；　at　this　very　minute？〃
　　〃Here　and　now。　That's　right。〃
　　〃Is　there　such　a　thing　as　now？　'Now'　es　and　goes　as　soon　as　you　say　it。　How　can　I　say　it's　raining　now　if　your　so…called　'now'　bees　'then'　as　soon　as　I　say　it？〃
　　〃You　said　there　was　no　past；　present；　or　future。〃
　　〃Only　in　our　verbs。　That's　the　only　place　we　find　it。〃
　　〃Rain　is　a　noun。　Is　there　rain　here；　in　this　precise　locality；　at　whatever　time　within　the　next　two　minutes　that　you　choose　to　respond　to　the　question？〃
　　〃If　you　want　to　talk　about　this　precise　locality　while　you're　in　a　vehicle　that's　obviously　moving；　then　I　think　that's　the　trouble　with　this　discussion。〃
　　〃Just　give　me　an　answer；　okay；　Heinrich？〃
　　〃The　best　I　could　do　is　make　a　guess。〃
　　〃Either　it's　raining　or　it　isn't；〃　I　said。
　　〃Exactly。　That's　my　whole　point。　You'd　be　guessing。　Six　of　one；　half　dozen　of　the　other。〃
　　〃But　you　see　it's　raining。〃
　　〃You　see　the　sun　moving　across　the　sky。　But　is　the　sun　moving　across　the　sky　or　is　the　earth　turning？〃
　　〃I　don't　accept　the　analogy。〃
　　〃You're　so　sure　that's　rain。　How　do　you　know　it's　not　sulfuric　acid　from　factories　across　the　river？　How　do　you　know　it's　not　fallout　from　a　war　in　China？　You　want　an　answer　here　and　now。　Can　you　prove；　here　and　now；　that　this　stuff　is　rain？　How　do　I　know　that　what　you　call　rain　is　really　rain？　What　is　rain　anyway？〃
　　〃It's　the　stuff　that　falls　from　the　sky　and　gets　you　what　is　called　wet。〃
　　〃I'm　not　wet。　Are　you　wet？〃
　　〃All　right；〃　I　said。　〃Very　good。〃
　　〃No；　seriously；　are　you　wet？〃
　　〃First…rate；〃　I　told　him。　〃A　victory　for　uncertainty；　randomness　and　chaos。　Science's　finest　hour。〃
　　〃Be　sarcastic。〃
　　〃The　sophists　and　the　hairsplitters　enjoy　their　finest　hour。〃
　　〃Go　ahead；　be　sarcastic；　I　don't　care。〃
　　Heinrich's　mother　lives　in　an　ashram　now。　She　has　taken　the　name　Mother　Devi　and　runs　the　business　end　of　things。　The　ashram　is　located　on　the　outskirts　of　the　former　copper…smelting　town　of　Tubb；　Montana；　now　called　Dharamsalapur。　The　usual　rumors　abound　of　sexual　freedom；　sexual　slavery；　drugs；　nudity；　mind　control；　poor　hygiene；　tax　evasion；　monkey…worship；　torture；　prolonged　and　hideous　death。
　　I　watched　him　walk　through　the　downpour　to　the　school　entrance。　He　moved　with　deliberate　slowness；　taking　off　his　camouflage　cap　ten　yards　from　the　doorway。　At　such　moments　I　find　I　love　him　with　an　animal　desperation；　a　need　to　take　him　under　my　coat　and　crush　him　to　my　chest；　keep　him　there；　protect　him。　He　seems　to　bring　a　danger　to　him。　It　collects　in　the　air；　follows　him　from　room　to　room。　Babette　bakes　his　favorite　cookies。　We　watch　him　at　his　desk；　an　unpainted　table　covered　with　books　and　magazines。　He　works　well　into　the　night；　plotting　chess　moves　in　a　game　he　plays　by　mail　with　a　convicted　killer　in　the　penitentiary。
　　It　was　warm　and　bright　the　next　day　and　students　on　the　Hill　sat　on　lawns　and　in　dorm　windows；　playing　their　tapes；　sunbathing。　The　air　was　a　reverie　of　wistful　summer　things；　the　last　languorous　day；　a　chance　to　go　bare…limbed　once　more；　smell　the　mown　clover。　I　went　into　the　Arts　Duplex；　our　newest　building；　a　winged　affair　with　a　facade　of　anodized　aluminum；　sea…green；　cloud…catching。　On　the　lower　level　was　the　movie　theater；　a　sloped　and　dark…carpeted　space　with　two　hundred　plush　seats。　I　sat　in　shallow　light　at　the　end　of　the　first　row　and　waited　for　my　seniors　to　arrive。
　　They　were　all　Hitler　majors；　members　of　the　only　class　I　still　taught；　Advanced　Nazism；　three　hours　a　week；　restricted　to　qualified　seniors；　a　course　of　study　designed　to　cultivate　historical　perspective；　theoretical　rigor　and　mature　insight　into　the　continuing　mass　appeal　of　fascist　tyranny；　with　special　emphasis　on　parades；　rallies　and　uniforms；　three　credits；　written　reports。
　　Every　semester　I　arranged　for　a　screening　of　background　footage。　This　consisted　of　propaganda　films；　scenes　shot　at　party　congresses；　outtakes　from　mystical　epics　featuring　parades　of　gymnasts　and　mountaineers—a　collection　I'd　edited　into　an　impressionistic　eighty…minute　documentary。　Crowd　scenes　predominated。　Close…up　jostled　shots　of　thousands　of　people　outside　a　stadium　after　a　Goebbels　speech；　people　surging；　massing；　bursting　through　the　traffic。　Halls　hung　with　swastika　banners；　with　mortuary　wreaths　and　death's…head　insignia。　Ranks　of　thousands　of　flagbearers　arrayed　before　columns　of　frozen　light；　a　hundred　and　thirty　antiaircraft　searchlights　aimed　straight　up—a　scene　that　resembled　a　geometric　longing；　the　formal　notation　of　some　powerful　mas