白噪音(White Noise) (英文版)作者:唐·德里罗(Don DeLillo)-第21章

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　　Make　no　mistake。　I　take　these　children　seriously。　It　is　not　possible　to　see　too　much　in　them；　to　overindulge　your　casual　gift　for　the　study　of　character。　It　is　all　there；　in　full　force；　charged　waves　of　identity　and　being。　There　are　no　amateurs　in　the　world　of　children。
　　Heinrich　stood　in　a　corner　of　the　room；　taking　up　his　critical…observer　position。　I　gave　Murray　his　coffee　and　was　about　to　leave　when　I　glanced　in　passing　at　the　TV　screen。　I　paused　at　the　door；　looked　more　closely　this　time。　It　was　true；　it　was　there。　I　hissed　at　the　others　for　silence　and　they　swiveled　their　heads　in　my　direction；　baffled　and　annoyed。　Then　they　followed　my　gaze　to　the　sturdy　TV　at　the　end　of　the　bed。
　　The　face　on　the　screen　was　Babette's。　Out　of　our　mouths　came　a　silence　as　wary　and　deep　as　an　animal　growl。　Confusion；　fear；　astonishment　spilled　from　our　faces。　What　did　it　mean？　What　was　she　doing　there；　in　black　and　white；　framed　in　formal　borders？　Was　she　dead；　missing；　disembodied？　Was　this　her　spirit；　her　secret　self；　some　two…dimensional　facsimile　released　by　the　power　of　technology；　set　free　to　glide　through　wavebands；　through　energy　levels；　pausing　to　say　good…bye　to　us　from　the　fluorescent　screen？
　　A　strangeness　gripped　me；　a　sense　of　psychic　disorientation。　It　was　her　all　right；　the　face；　the　hair；　the　way　she　blinks　in　rapid　twos　and　threes。　I'd　seen　her　just　an　hour　ago；　eating　eggs；　but　her　appearance　on　the　screen　made　me　think　of　her　as　some　distant　figure　from　the　past；　some　ex…wife　and　absentee　mother；　a　walker　in　the　mists　of　the　dead。　If　she　was　not　dead；　was　I？　A　two…syllable　infantile　cry；　ba…ba；　issued　from　the　deeps　of　my　soul。
　　All　this　pressed　in　seconds。　It　was　only　as　time　drew　on；　normalized　itself；　returned　to　us　a　sense　of　our　surroundings；　the　room；　the　house；　the　reality　in　which　the　TV　set　stood—it　was　only　then　that　we　understood　what　was　going　on。
　　Babette　was　teaching　her　class　in　the　church　basement　and　it　was　being　televised　by　the　local　cable　station。　Either　she　hadn't　known　there　would　be　a　camera　on　hand　or　she　preferred　not　to　tell　us；　out　of　embarrassment；　love；　superstition；　whatever　causes　a　person　to　wish　to　withhold　her　image　from　those　who　know　her。
　　With　the　sound　down　low　we　couldn't　hear　what　she　was　saying。　But　no　one　bothered　to　adjust　the　volume。　It　was　the　picture　that　mattered；　the　face　in　black　and　white；　animated　but　also　flat；　distanced；　sealed　off；　timeless。　It　was　but　wasn't　her。　Once　again　I　began　to　think　Murray　might　be　on　to　something。　Waves　and　radiation。　Something　leaked　through　the　mesh。　She　was　shining　a　light　on　us；　she　was　ing　into　being；　endlessly　being　formed　and　reformed　as　the　muscles　in　her　face　worked　at　smiling　and　speaking；　as　the　electronic　dots　swarmed。
　　We　were　being　shot　through　with　Babette。　Her　image　was　projected　on　our　bodies；　swam　in　us　and　through　us。　Babette　of　electrons　and　photons；　of　whatever　forces　produced　that　gray　light　we　took　to　be　her　face。
　　The　kids　were　flushed　with　excitement　but　I　felt　a　certain　disquiet。　I　tried　to　tell　myself　it　was　only　television—whatever　that　was；　however　it　worked—and　not　some　journey　out　of　life　or　death；　not　some　mysterious　separation。　Murray　looked　up　at　me；　smiling　in　his　sneaky　way。
　　Only　Wilder　remained　calm。　He　watched　his　mother；　spoke　to　her　in　half…words；　sensible…sounding　fragments　that　were　mainly　fabricated。　As　the　camera　pulled　back　to　allow　Babette　to　demonstrate　some　fine　point　of　standing　or　walking；　Wilder　approached　the　set　and　touched　her　body；　leaving　a　handprint　on　the　dusty　surface　of　the　screen。
　　Then　Denise　crawled　up　to　the　set　and　turned　the　volume　dial。　Nothing　happened。　There　was　no　sound；　no　voice；　nothing。　She　turned　to　look　at　me；　a　moment　of　renewed　confusion。　Heinrich　advanced；　fiddled　with　the　dial；　stuck　his　hand　behind　the　set　to　adjust　the　recessed　knobs。　When　he　tried　another　channel；　the　sound　boomed　out；　raw　and　fuzzy。　Back　at　the　cable　station；　he　couldn't　raise　a　buzz　and　as　we　watched　Babette　finish　the　lesson；　we　were　in　a　mood　of　odd　misgiving。　But　as　soon　as　the　program　ended；　the　two　girls　got　excited　again　and　went　downstairs　to　wait　for　Babette　at　the　door　and　surprise　her　with　news　of　what　they'd　seen。
　　The　small　boy　remained　at　the　TV　set；　within　inches　of　the　dark　screen；　crying　softly；　uncertainly；　in　low　heaves　and　swells；　as　Murray　took　notes。
　　II　The　Airborne　Toxic　Event
　　21
　　After　a　night　of　dream…lit　snows　the　air　turned　clear　and　still。　There　was　a　taut　blue　quality　in　the　January　light；　a　hardness　and　confidence。　The　sound　of　boots　on　packed　snow；　the　contrails　streaked　cleanly　in　the　high　sky。　Weather　was　very　much　the　point；　although　I　didn't　know　it　at　first。
　　I　turned　into　our　street　and　walked　past　men　bent　over　shovels　in　their　driveways；　breathing　vapor。　A　squirrel　moved　along　a　limb　in　a　flowing　motion；　a　passage　so　continuous　it　seemed　to　be　its　own　physical　law；　different　from　the　ones　we've　learned　to　trust。　When　I　was　halfway　down　the　street　I　saw　Heinrich　crouched　on　a　small　ledge　outside　our　attic　window。　He　wore　his　camouflage　jacket　and　cap；　an　outfit　with　plex　meaning　for　him；　at　fourteen；　struggling　to　grow　and　to　escape　notice　simultaneously；　his　secrets　known　to　us　all。　He　looked　east　through　binoculars。
　　I　went　around　back　to　the　kitchen。　In　the　entranceway　the　washer　and　dryer　were　vibrating　nicely。　I　could　tell　from　Babette's　voice　that　the　person　she　was　talking　to　on　the　phone　was　her　father。　An　impatience　mixed　with　guilt　and　apprehension。　I　stood　behind　her；　put　my　cold　hands　to　her　cheeks。　A　little　thing　I　liked　to　do。　She　hung　up　the　phone。
　　〃Why　is　he　on　the　roof？〃
　　〃Heinrich？　Something　about　the　train　yards；〃　she　said。　〃It　was　on　the　radio。〃
　　〃Shouldn't　I　get　him　down？〃
　　〃Why？〃
　　〃He　could　fall。〃
　　〃Don't　tell　him　that。〃
　　〃Why　not？〃
　　〃He　thinks　you　underestimate　him。〃
　　〃He's　on　a　ledge；〃　I　said。　'There　must　be　something　I　should　be　doing。〃
　　'The　more　you　show　concern；　the　closer　he'll　go　to　the　edge。〃
　　〃I　know　that　but　I　still　have　to　get　him　down。〃
　　〃Coax　him　back　in；〃　she　said。　〃Be　sensitive　and　caring。　Get　him　to　talk　about　himself。　Don't　make　sudden　movements。〃
　　When　I　got　to　the　attic　he　was　already　back　inside；　standing　by　the　open　window；　still　looking　through　the　glasses。　Abandoned　possessions　were　everywhere；　oppressive　and　soul…worrying；　creating　a　weather　of　their　own　among　the　exposed　beams　and　posts；　the　fiberglass　insulation　pads。
　　〃What　happened？〃
　　'The　radio　said　a　tank　car　derailed。　But　I　don't　think　it　derailed　from　what　I　could　see。　I　think　it　got　rammed　and　something　punched　a　hole　in　it。　There's　a　lot　of　smoke　and　I　don't　like　the　looks　of　it。〃
　　〃What　does　it　look　like？〃
　　He　handed　me　the　binoculars　and　stepped　aside。　Without　climbing　onto　the　ledge　I　couldn't　see　the　switching　yard　and　the　car　or　cars　in　question。　But　the　smoke　was　plainly　visible；　a　heavy　black　mass　hanging　in　the　air　beyond　the　river；　more　or　less　shapeless。
　　〃Did　you　see　fire　engines？〃
　　〃They're　all　over　the　place；〃　he　said。　〃But　it　looks　to　me　like　they're　not　getting　too　close。　It　must　be　pretty　toxic　or　pretty　explosive　stuff；　or　both。〃
　　〃It　won't　e　this　way。〃
　　〃How　do　you　know？〃
　　〃It　just　won't。　The　point　is　you　shouldn't　be　standing　on　icy　ledges。　It　worries　Baba。〃
　　〃You　think　if　you　tell　me　it　worries　her；　I'll　feel　guilty　and　not　do　it。　But　if　you　tell　me　it　worries　you；　I'll　do　it　all　the　time。〃
　　〃Shut　the　window；〃　I　told　him。
　　We　went　down　to　the　kitchen。　Steffie　was　looking　through　the　brightly　colored　mail　for　coupons；　lotteries　and　contests。　This　was　the　last　day　of　the　holiday　break　for　the　grade　school　and　high　school。　Classes　on　the　Hill　would　resume　in　a　week。　I　sent　Heinrich　outside　to　clear　snow　from　the　walk。　I　watched　him　stand　out　there；　utterly　still；　his　head　turned　slightly；　a　honed　awareness　in　his　stance。　It　took　me　a　while　to　realize　he　was　listening　to　the　sirens　beyond　the　river。
　　An　hour　later　he　was　back　in　the　attic；　this　time　with　a　radio　and　highway　map。　I　climbed　the　narrow　stairs；　borrowed　the　glasses　and　looked　again。　It　was　still　there；　a　slightly　larger　accumulation；　a　towering　mass　in　fact；　maybe　a　little　blacker　now。
　　〃The　radio　calls　it　a　feathery　plume；〃　he　said。　〃But　it's　not　a　plume。〃
　　〃What　is　it？〃
　　〃Like　a　shapeless　growing　thing。　A　dark　black　breathing　thing　of　smoke。　Why　do　they　call　it　a　plume？〃
　　〃Air　time　is　valuable。　They　can't　go　into　long　tortured　descriptions。　Have　they　said　what　kind　of　chemical　it　is？〃
　　〃It's　called　Nyodene　Derivative　or　Nyodene　D。　It　was　in　a　movie　we　saw　in　school　on　toxic　wastes。　These　videotaped　rats。〃
　　〃What　does　it　cause？〃
　　'The　movie　wasn't　sure　what　it　does　to　humans。　Mainly　it　was　rats　growing　urgent　lumps。〃
　　〃That's　what　the　movie　said。　What　does　the　radio　say？〃
　　〃At　first　they　said　skin　irritation　and　sweaty　palms。　But　now　they　say　nausea；　vomiting；　shortness　of　breath。〃
　　〃This　is　human　nausea　we're　talking　about。　Not　rats。〃
　　〃Not　rats；〃　he　said。
　　I　gave　him　the　binoculars。
　　〃Well　it　won't　e　this　way。〃
　　〃How　do　you　know？〃　he　said。
　　〃I　j