白噪音(White Noise) (英文版)作者:唐·德里罗(Don DeLillo)-第3部分

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　　I　crossed　the　high　school　lawn　and　walked　to　the　rear　of　the　building　and　toward　the　small　open　stadium。　Babette　was　running　up　the　stadium　steps。　I　sat　across　the　field　in　the　first　row　of　stone　seats。　The　sky　was　full　of　streaking　clouds。　When　she　reached　the　top　of　the　stadium　she　stopped　and　paused；　putting　her　hands　to　the　high　parapet　and　leaning　into　it　to　rest　diagonally。　Then　she　turned　and　walked　back　down；　breasts　chugging。　The　wind　rippled　her　oversized　suit。　She　walked　with　her　hands　on　her　hips；　fingers　spread。　Her　face　was　tilted　up；　catching　the　cool　air；　and　she　didn't　see　me。　When　she　reached　the　bottom　step　she　turned　to　face　the　seats　and　did　some　kind　of　neck　stretching　exercise。　Then　she　started　running　up　the　steps。
　　Three　times　she　ascended　the　steps；　walked　slowly　down。　There　was　no　one　around。　She　worked　hard；　hair　floating；　legs　and　shoulders　working。　Every　time　she　reached　the　top　she　leaned　into　the　wall；　head　down；　upper　body　throbbing。　After　the　last　descent　I　met　her　at　the　edge　of　the　playing　field　and　embraced　her；　putting　my　hands　inside　the　sweatband　of　her　gray　cotton　pants。　A　small　plane　appeared　over　the　trees。　Babette　was　moist　and　warm；　emitting　a　creaturely　hum。
　　She　runs；　she　shovels　snow；　she　caulks　the　tub　and　sink。　She　plays　word　games　with　Wilder　and　reads　erotic　classics　aloud　in　bed　at　night。　What　do　I　do？　I　twirl　the　garbage　bags　and　twist…tie　them；　swim　laps　in　the　college　pool。　When　I　go　walking；　joggers　e　up　soundlessly　behind　me；　appearing　at　my　side；　making　me　jump　in　idiotic　fright。　Babette　talks　to　dogs　and　cats。　I　see　colored　spots　out　of　the　corner　of　my　right　eye。　She　plans　ski　trips　that　we　never　take；　her　face　bright　with　excitement。　I　walk　up　the　hill　to　school；　noting　the　whitewashed　stones　that　line　the　driveways　of　newer　homes。
　　Who　will　die　first？
　　This　question　es　up　from　time　to　time；　like　where　are　the　car　keys。　It　ends　a　sentence；　prolongs　a　glance　between　us。　I　wonder　if　the　thought　itself　is　part　of　the　nature　of　physical　love；　a　reverse　Darwinism　that　awards　sadness　and　fear　to　the　survivor。　Or　is　it　some　inert　element　in　the　air　we　breathe；　a　rare　thing　like　neon；　with　a　melting　point；　an　atomic　weight？　I　held　her　in　my　arms　on　the　cinder　track。　Kids　came　running　our　way；　thirty　girls　in　bright　shorts；　an　improbable　bobbing　mass。　The　eager　breathing；　the　overlapping　rhythms　of　their　footfalls。　Sometimes　I　think　our　love　is　inexperienced。　The　question　of　dying　bees　a　wise　reminder。　It　cures　us　of　our　innocence　of　the　future。　Simple　things　are　doomed；　or　is　that　a　superstition？　We　watched　the　girls　e　round　again。　They　were　strung　out　now；　with　faces　and　particular　gaits；　almost　weightless　in　their　craving；　able　to　land　lightly。
　　The　Airport　Marriott；　the　Downtown　Travelodge；　the　Sheraton　Inn　and　Conference　Center。
　　On　our　way　home　I　said；　〃Bee　wants　to　visit　at　Christmas。　We　can　put　her　in　with　Steffie。〃
　　〃Do　they　know　each　other？〃
　　'They　met　at　Disney　World。　It'll　be　all　right。〃
　　〃When　were　you　in　Los　Angeles？〃
　　〃You　mean　Anaheim。〃
　　〃When　were　you　in　Anaheim？〃
　　〃You　mean　Orlando。　It's　almost　three　years　now。〃
　　〃Where　was　I？〃　she　said。
　　My　daughter　Bee；　from　my　marriage　to　Tweedy　Browner；　was　just　starting　seventh　grade　in　a　Washington　suburb　and　was　having　trouble　readjusting　to　life　in　the　States　after　two　years　in　South　Korea。　She　took　taxis　to　school；　made　phone　calls　to　friends　in　Seoul　and　Tokyo。　Abroad　she'd　wanted　to　eat　ketchup　sandwiches　with　Trix　sticks。　Now　she　cooked　fierce　sizzling　meals　of　scallion　bushes　and　baby　shrimp；　monopolizing　Tweedy's　restaurant…quality　range。
　　That　night；　a　Friday；　we　ordered　Chinese　food　and　watched　television　together；　the　six　of　us。　Babette　had　made　it　a　rule。　She　seemed　to　think　that　if　kids　watched　television　one　night　a　week　with　parents　or　stepparents；　the　effect　would　be　to　de…glamorize　the　medium　in　their　eyes；　make　it　wholesome　domestic　sport。　Its　narcotic　undertow　and　eerie　diseased　brain…sucking　power　would　be　gradually　reduced。　I　felt　vaguely　slighted　by　this　reasoning。　The　evening　in　fact　was　a　subtle　form　of　punishment　for　us　all。　Heinrich　sat　silent　over　his　egg　rolls。　Steffie　became　upset　every　time　something　shameful　or　humiliating　seemed　about　to　happen　to　someone　on　the　screen。　She　had　a　vast　capacity　for　being　embarrassed　on　other　people's　behalf。　Often　she　would　leave　the　room　until　Denise　signaled　to　her　that　the　scene　was　over。　Denise　used　these　occasions　to　counsel　the　younger　girl　on　toughness；　the　need　to　be　mean　in　the　world；　thick…skinned。
　　It　was　my　own　formal　custom　on　Fridays；　after　an　evening　in　front　of　the　TV　set；　to　read　deeply　in　Hitler　well　into　the　night。
　　On　one　such　night　I　got　into　bed　next　to　Babette　and　told　her　how　the　chancellor　had　advised　me；　back　in　1968；　to　do　something　about　my　name　and　appearance　if　I　wanted　to　be　taken　seriously　as　a　Hitler　innovator。　Jack　Gladney　would　not　do；　he　said；　and　asked　me　what　other　names　I　might　have　at　my　disposal。　We　finally　agreed　that　I　should　invent　an　extra　initial　and　call　myself　J。　A。　K。　Gladney；　a　tag　I　wore　like　a　borrowed　suit。
　　The　chancellor　warned　against　what　he　called　my　tendency　to　make　a　feeble　presentation　of　self。　He　strongly　suggested　I　gain　weight。　He　wanted　me　to　〃grow　out〃　into　Hitler。　He　himself　was　tall；　paunchy；　ruddy；　jowly；　big…footed　and　dull。　A　formidable　bination。　I　had　the　advantages　of　substantial　height；　big　hands；　big　feet；　but　badly　needed　bulk；　or　so　he　believed—an　air　of　unhealthy　excess；　of　padding　and　exaggeration；　hulking　massive…ness。　If　I　could　bee　more　ugly；　he　seemed　to　be　suggesting；　it　would　help　my　career　enormously。
　　So　Hitler　gave　me　something　to　grow　into　and　develop　toward；　tentative　as　I　have　sometimes　been　in　the　effort。　The　glasses　with　thick　black　heavy　frames　and　dark　lenses　were　my　own　idea；　an　alternative　to　the　bushy　beard　that　my　wife　of　the　period　didn't　want　me　to　grow。　Babette　said　she　liked　the　series　J。　A。　K。　and　didn't　think　it　was　attention…getting　in　a　cheap　sense。　To　her　it　intimated　dignity；　significance　and　prestige。
　　I　am　the　false　character　that　follows　the　name　around。
　　5
　　Let's　enjoy　these　aimless　days　while　we　can；　I　told　myself；　I　fearing　some　kind　of　deft　acceleration。
　　At　breakfast；　Babette　read　all　our　horoscopes　aloud；　using　her　storytelling　voice。　I　tried　not　to　listen　when　she　got　to　mine；　although　I　think　I　wanted　to　listen；　I　think　I　sought　some　clues。
　　After　dinner；　on　my　way　upstairs；　I　heard　the　TV　say：　〃Let's　sit　half　lotus　and　think　about　our　spines。〃
　　That　night；　seconds　after　going　to　sleep；　I　seemed　to　fall　through　myself；　a　shallow　heart…stopping　plunge。　Jarred　awake；　I　stared　into　the　dark；　realizing　I'd　experienced　the　more　or　less　normal　muscular　contraction　known　as　the　myoclonic　jerk。　Is　this　what　it's　like；　abrupt；　peremptory？　Shouldn't　death；　I　thought；　be　a　swan　dive；　graceful；　white…winged　and　smooth；　leaving　the　surface　undisturbed？
　　Blue　jeans　tumbled　in　the　dryer。
　　We　ran　into　Murray　Jay　Siskind　at　the　supermarket。　His　basket　held　generic　food　and　drink；　nonbrand　items　in　plain　white　packages　with　simple　labeling。　There　was　a　white　can　labeled　CANNED　PEACHES。　There　was　a　white　package　of　bacon　without　a　plastic　window　for　viewing　a　representative　slice。　A　jar　of　roasted　nuts　had　a　white　wrapper　bearing　the　words　IRREGULAR　PEANUTS。　Murray　kept　nodding　to　Babette　as　I　introduced　them。
　　'This　is　the　new　austerity；〃　he　said。　〃Flavorless　packaging。　It　appeals　to　me。　I　feel　I'm　not　only　saving　money　but　contributing　to　some　kind　of　spiritual　consensus。　It's　like　World　War　HI。　Everything　is　white。　They'll　take　our　bright　colors　away　and　use　them　in　the　war　effort。〃
　　He　was　staring　into　Babette's　eyes；　picking　up　items　from　our　cart　and　smelling　them。
　　〃I've　bought　these　peanuts　before。　They're　round；　cubical；　pockmarked；　seamed。　Broken　peanuts。　A　lot　of　dust　at　the　bottom　of　the　jar。　But　they　taste　good。　Most　of　all　I　like　the　packages　themselves。　You　were　right；　Jack。　This　is　the　last　avant…garde。　Bold　new　forms。　The　power　to　shock。〃
　　A　woman　fell　into　a　rack　of　paperback　books　at　the　front　of　the　store。　A　heavyset　man　emerged　from　the　raised　cubicle　in　the　far　corner　and　moved　warily　toward　her；　head　tilted　to　get　a　clearer　sightline。　A　checkout　girl　said；　〃Leon；　parsley；〃　and　he　answered　as　he　approached　the　fallen　woman；　〃Seventy…nine。〃　His　breast　pocket　was　crammed　with　felt…tip　pens。
　　〃So　then　you　cook　at　the　rooming　house；〃　Babette　said。
　　〃My　room　is　zoned　for　a　hot　plate。　I'm　happy　there。　I　read　the　TV　listings；　I　read　the　ads　in　Ufologist　Today。　I　want　to　immerse　myself　in　American　magic　and　dread。　My　seminar　is　going　well。　The　students　are　bright　and　responsive。　They　ask　questions　and　I　answer　them。　They　jot　down　notes　as　I　speak。　It's　quite　a　surprise　in　my　life。〃
　　He　picked　up　our　bottle　of　extra…strength　pain　reliever　and　sniffed　along　the　rim　of　the　child…proof　cap。　He　smelled　our　honeydew　melons；　our　bottles　of　club　soda　and　ginger　ale。　Babette　went　down　the　frozen　food　aisle；　an　area　my　doctor　had　advised　me　to　stay　out　of。
　　〃Your　wife's　hair　is　a　living　wonder；〃　Murray　said；　looking　closely　into　my　face　as　if　to　municate　a　deepening　respect　for　me　based　on　this　new　information。
　　〃Yes；　it　is；〃　I　said。
　　〃She　has　important　hair。〃
　　〃I　think　I　know　what　you　mean。〃
　　〃I　hope　you　appreciate　that　woman。〃
　　〃Absolutely。〃
　　〃Because　a　woman　like　that　doesn't　just　happen。〃
　　〃I　know　it。〃
　　〃She　must　be　good　with　children。　More　than　that；　I'll　bet　she's　great　to　have　around　in　a　family　tragedy。　She'd　be　the　type　to　take　control；　show　strength　and　affirmation。〃
　　〃Actually　she　falls　apart。　She　fell　apart　when　her　mother　died。〃
　　〃Who　wouldn't？〃
　　〃She　fell　apart　when　Steffie　called　from　camp　with　a　broken　bone　in　her　hand。　We　had　to　drive　all　night。　I　found　myself　on　a　lumber　pany　road。　Babette　weeping。〃
　　〃Her　daughter；　far　away；　among　strangers；　in　pain。　Who　wouldn't？〃
　　〃Not　her　daughter。　My　daughter。〃
　　〃Not　even　her　own　daughter。〃
　　〃No。〃
　　〃Extraordinary。　I　have　to　love　it。〃
　　The　three　of　us　left　together；　trying　to　maneuver　our　shopping　carts