白噪音(White Noise) (英文版)作者:唐·德里罗(Don DeLillo)-第50部分

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　　〃What　about　potassium？　I　came　here　in　the　first　place　because　my　potassium　was　way　above　normal　limits。〃
　　〃We　don't　do　potassium。〃
　　〃Good。〃
　　〃Good。　The　last　thing　I'm　supposed　to　tell　you　is　take　the　envelope　to　your　doctor。　Your　doctor　knows　the　symbols。〃
　　〃So　that's　it　then。　Good。〃
　　〃Good；〃　he　said。
　　I　found　myself　shaking　his　hand　warmly。　Minutes　later　I　was　out　on　the　street。　A　boy　walked　splay…footed　across　a　public　lawn；　nudging　a　soccer　ball　before　him。　A　second　kid　sat　on　the　grass；　taking　off　his　socks　by　grabbing　the　heels　and　yanking。　How　literary；　I　thought　peevishly。　Streets　thick　with　the　details　of　impulsive　life　as　the　hero　ponders　the　latest　phase　in　his　dying。　It　was　a　partially　cloudy　day　with　winds　diminishing　toward　sunset。
　　That　night　I　walked　the　streets　of　Blacksmith。　The　glow　of　blue…eyed　TVs。　The　voices　on　the　touch…tone　phones。　Far　away　the　grandparents　huddle　in　a　chair；　eagerly　sharing　the　receiver　as　carrier　waves　modulate　into　audible　signals。　It　is　the　voice　of　their　grandson；　the　growing　boy　whose　face　appears　in　the　snapshots　set　around　the　phone。　Joy　rushes　to　their　eyes　but　it　is　misted　over；　infused　with　a　sad　and　plex　knowing。　What　is　the　young…　？　ster　saying　to　them？　His　wretched　plexion　makes　him　unhappy？　He　wants　to　leave　school　and　work　full…time　at　Foodland；　bagging　groceries？　He　tells　them　he　likes　to　bag　groceries。　It　is　the　one　thing　in　life　he　finds　satisfying。　Put　the　gallon　jugs　in　first；　square　off　the　six…packs；　double…bag　the　heavy　merch。　He　does　it　well；　he　has　the　knack；　he　sees　the　items　arranged　in　the　bag　before　he　touches　a　thing。　It's　like　Zen；　gramma。　I　snap　out　two　bags；　fit　one　inside　the　other。　Don't　bruise　the　fruit；　watch　the　eggs；　put　the　ice　cream　in　a　freezer　bag。　A　thousand　people　pass　me　every　day　but　no　one　ever　sees　me。　I　like　it；　gramma；　it's　totally　un…threatening；　it's　how　I　want　to　spend　my　life。　And　so　they　listen　sadly；　loving　him　all　the　more；　their　faces　pressed　against　the　sleek　Trimline；　the　white　Princess　in　the　bedroom；　the　plain　brown　Rotary　in　granddad's　paneled　basement　hideaway。　The　old　gentleman　runs　a　hand　through　his　thatch　of　white　hair；　the　woman　holds　her　folded　specs　against　her　face。　Clouds　race　across　the　westering　moon；　the　seasons　change　in　somber　montage；　going　deeper　into　winter　stillness；　a　landscape　of　silence　and　ice。　Your　doctor　knows　the　symbols。
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　　The　long　walk　started　at　noon。　I　didn't　know　it　would　turn　into　a　long　walk。　I　thought　it　would　be　a　miscellaneous　meditation；　Murray　and　Jack；　half　an　hour's　campus　meander。　But　it　became　a　major　afternoon；　a　serious　looping　Socratic　walk；　with　practical　consequences。
　　I　met　Murray　after　his　car　crash　seminar　and　we　wandered　along　the　fringes　of　the　campus；　past　the　cedar…shingled　condominiums　set　in　the　trees　in　their　familiar　defensive　posture—a　cluster　of　dwellings　blending　so　well　with　the　environment　that　birds　kept　flying　into　the　plate…glass　windows。
　　〃You're　smoking　a　pipe；〃　I　said。
　　Murray　smiled　sneakily。
　　〃It　looks　good。　I　like　it。　It　works。〃
　　He　lowered　his　eyes；　smiling。　The　pipe　had　a　long　narrow　stem　and　cubical　bowl。　It　was　pale　brown　and　resembled　a　highly　disciplined　household　implement；　perhaps　an　Amish　or　Shaker　antique。　I　wondered　if　he'd　chosen　it　to　match　his　somewhat　severe　chin　whiskers。　A　tradition　of　stern　virtue　seemed　to　hover　about　his　gestures　and　expressions。
　　〃Why　can't　we　be　intelligent　about　death？〃　I　said。
　　〃It's　obvious。〃
　　〃It　is？〃
　　〃Ivan　Ilyich　screamed　for　three　days。　That's　about　as　intelligent　as　we　get。　Tolstoy　himself　struggled　to　understand。　He　feared　it　terribly。〃
　　〃It's　almost　as　though　our　fear　is　what　brings　it　on。　If　we　could　learn　not　to　be　afraid；　we　could　live　forever。〃
　　〃We　talk　ourselves　into　it。　Is　that　what　you　mean？〃
　　〃I　don't　know　what　I　mean。　I　only　know　I'm　just　going　through　the　motions　of　living。　I'm　technically　dead。　My　body　is　growing　a　nebulous　mass。　They　track　these　things　like　satellites。　All　this　as　a　result　of　a　byproduct　of　insecticide。　There's　something　artificial　about　my　death。　It's　shallow；　unfulfilling。　I　don't　belong　to　the　earth　or　sky。　They　ought　to　carve　an　aerosol　can　on　my　tombstone。〃
　　〃Well　said。〃
　　What　did　he　mean；　well　said？　I　vanted　him　to　argue　with　me；　raise　my　dying　to　a　higher　level；　make　me　feel　better。
　　〃Do　you　think　it's　unfair？〃　he　said。
　　〃Of　course　I　do。　Or　is　that　a　trite　answer？〃
　　He　seemed　to　shrug。
　　〃Look　how　I've　lived。　Has　my　life　been　a　mad　dash　for　pleasure？　Have　I　been　hellbent　on　self…destruction；　using　illegal　drugs；　driving　fast　cars；　drinking　to　excess？　A　little　dry　sherry　at　faculty　parties。　I　eat　bland　foods。〃
　　〃No；　you　don't。〃
　　He　puffed　seriously　on　his　pipe；　his　cheeks　going　hollow。　We　walked　in　silence　for　a　while。
　　〃Do　you　think　your　death　is　premature？〃　he　said。
　　〃Every　death　is　premature。　There's　no　scientific　reason　why　we　can't　live　a　hundred　and　fifty　years。　Some　people　actually　do　it；　according　to　a　headline　I　saw　at　the　supermarket。〃
　　〃Do　you　think　it's　a　sense　of　inpleteness　that　causes　you　the　deepest　regret？　There　are　things　you　still　hope　to　acplish。　Work　to　be　done；　intellectual　challenges　to　be　faced。〃
　　〃The　deepest　regret　is　death。　The　only　thing　to　face　is　death。　This　is　all　I　think　about。　There's　only　one　issue　here。　I　want　to　live。〃
　　〃From　the　Robert　Wise　film　of　the　same　name；　with　Susan　Hayward　as　Barbara　Graham；　a　convicted　murderess。　Aggressive　jazz　score　by　Johnny　Mandel。〃
　　I　looked　at　him。
　　〃So　you're　saying；　Jack；　that　death　would　be　just　as　threatening　even　if　you'd　acplished　all　you'd　ever　hoped　to　acplish　in　your　life　and　work。〃
　　〃Are　you　crazy？　Of　course。　That's　an　elitist　idea。　Would　you　ask　a　man　who　bags　groceries　if　he　fears　death　not　because　it　is　death　but　because　there　are　still　some　interesting　groceries　he　would　like　to　bag？〃
　　〃Well　said。〃
　　〃This　is　death。　I　don't　want　it　to　tarry　awhile　so　I　can　write　a　monograph。　I　want　it　to　go　away　for　seventy　or　eighty　years。〃
　　〃Your　status　as　a　doomed　man　lends　your　words　a　certain　prestige　and　authority。　I　like　that。　As　the　time　nears；　I　think　you'll　find　that　people　will　be　eager　to　hear　what　you　have　to　say。　They　will　seek　you　out。〃
　　〃Are　you　saying　this　is　a　wonderful　opportunity　for　me　to　win　friends？〃
　　〃I'm　saying　you　can't　let　down　the　living　by　slipping　into　self…pity　and　despair。　People　will　depend　on　you　to　be　brave。　What　people　look　for　in　a　dying　friend　is　a　stubborn　kind　of　gravel…voiced　nobility；　a　refusal　to　give　in；　with　moments　of　indomitable　humor。　You're　growing　in　prestige　even　as　we　speak。　You're　creating　a　hazy　light　about　your　own　body。　I　have　to　like　it。〃
　　We　walked　down　the　middle　of　a　steep　and　winding　street。　There　was　no　one　around。　The　houses　here　were　old　and　looming；　set　above　narrow　stone　stairways　in　partial　disrepair。
　　〃Do　you　believe　love　is　stronger　than　death？〃
　　〃Not　in　a　million　years。〃
　　〃Good；〃　he　said。　〃Nothing　is　stronger　than　death。　Do　you　believe　the　only　people　who　fear　death　are　those　who　are　afraid　of　life？〃
　　〃That's　crazy。　pletely　stupid。〃
　　〃Right。　We　all　fear　death　to　some　extent。　Those　who　claim　otherwise　are　lying　to　themselves。　Shallow　people。〃
　　〃People　with　their　nicknames　on　their　license　plates。〃
　　〃Excellent；　Jack。　Do　you　believe　life　without　death　is　somehow　inplete？〃
　　〃How　could　it　be　inplete？　Death　is　what　makes　it　inplete。〃
　　〃Doesn't　our　knowledge　of　death　make　life　more　precious？〃
　　〃What　good　is　a　preciousness　based　on　fear　and　anxiety？　It's　an　anxious　quivering　thing。〃
　　'True。　The　most　deeply　precious　things　are　those　we　feel　secure　about。　A　wife；　a　child。　Does　the　specter　of　death　make　a　child　more　precious？〃
　　〃No。〃
　　〃No。　There　is　no　reason　to　believe　life　is　more　precious　because　it　is　fleeting。　Here　is　a　statement。　A　person　has　to　be　told　he　is　going　to　die　before　he　can　begin　to　live　life　to　the　fullest。　True　or　false？〃
　　〃False。　Once　your　death　is　established；　it　bees　impossible　to　live　a　satisfying　life。〃
　　〃Would　you　prefer　to　know　the　exact　date　and　time　of　your　death？〃
　　〃Absolutely　not。　It's　bad　enough　to　fear　the　unknown。　Faced　with　the　unknown；　we　can　pretend　it　isn't　there。　Exact　dates　would　drive　many　to　suicide；　if　only　to　beat　the　system。〃
　　We　crossed　an　old　highway　bridge；　screened　in；　littered　with　sad　and　faded　objects。　We　followed　a　footpath　along　a　creek；　approached　the　edge　of　the　high　school　playing　field。　Women　brought　small　children　here　to　play　in　the　long…jump　pits。
　　〃How　do　I　get　around　it？〃　I　said。
　　〃You　could　put　your　faith　in　technology。　It　got　you　here；　it　can　get　you　out。　This　is　the　whole　point　of　technology。　It　creates　an　appetite　for　immortality　on　the　one　hand。　It　threatens　universal　extinction　on　the　other。　Technology　is　lust　removed　from　nature。〃
　　〃It　is？〃
　　〃It's　what　we　invented　to　conceal　the　terrible　secret　of　our　decaying　bodies。　But　it's　also　life；　isn't　it？　It　prolongs　life；　it　provides　new　organs　for　those　that　wear　out。　New　devices；　new　techniques　every　day。　Lasers；　masers；　ultrasound。　Give　yourself　up　to　it；　Jack。　Believe　in　it。　They'll　insert　you　in　a　gleaming　tube；　irradiate　your　body　with　the　basic　stuff　of　the　universe。　Light；　energy；　dreams。　God's　own　goodness。〃
　　〃I　don't　think　I　want　to　see　any　doctors　for　a　while；　Murray；　thanks。〃
　　〃In　that　case　you　can　always　get　around　death　by　concentrating　on　the　life　beyond。〃
　　〃How　do　I　do　that？〃
　　〃It's　obvious。　Read　up　on　reincarnation；　transmigration；　hyperspace；　the　resurrection　of　the　dead　and　so　on。　Some　gorgeous　systems　have　evolved　from　these　beliefs。　Study　them。〃
　　〃Do　you　believe　in　any　of　these　things？〃
　　〃Millions　of　people　have　believed　for　thousands　of　years。　Throw　in　with　them。　Belief　in　a　second　birth；　a　second　life；　is　practically　universal。　This　must　mean　something。〃
　　〃But　these　gorgeous　systems　are　all　so　different。〃
　　〃Pick　one　you　like。〃
　　〃But　you　make　it　sound　like　a　convenient　fantasy；　the　worst　kind　of　self…delusion。〃
　　Again　he　seemed　to　shrug。　'Think　of　the　great　poetry；　the　music　and　dance　and　ritual　that　spring　forth　from　our　aspiring　to