白噪音(White Noise) (英文版)作者:唐·德里罗(Don DeLillo)-第49章

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　best；　which　figures　from　the　past　were　the　plain　fools；　which　the　ic　heroes。　Gleanings　from　another　life　poured　out　of　her。　The　cadences　of　her　speech　changed；　took　on　a　rural　tang。　The　words　changed；　the　references。　This　was　a　girl　who'd　helped　her　father　sand　and　finish　old　oak；　heave　radiators　up　from　the　floorboards。　His　carpenter　years；　his　fling　with　motorcycles；　his　biceps　tattoo。
　　〃You're　getting　string…beany；　daddy。　Finish　those　potatoes。　There's　more　on　the　stove。〃
　　And　Vernon　would　say　to　me；　〃Her　mother　made　the　worst　french　fries　you　could　ever　hope　to　eat。　Like　french　fries　in　a　state　park。〃　And　then　he'd　turn　to　her　and　say；　〃Jack　knows　the　problem　I　have　with　state　parks。　They　don't　move　the　heart。〃
　　We　moved　Heinrich　down　to　the　sofa　and　gave　Vernon　his　room。　It　was　unnerving　to　find　him　in　the　kitchen　at　seven　in　the　morning；　at　six；　at　whatever　grayish　hour　Babette　or　I　went　down　to　make　coffee。　He　gave　the　impression　he　was　intent　on　outfoxing　us；　working　on　our　guilt；　showing　us　that　no　matter　how　little　sleep　we　got；　he　got　less。
　　〃Tell　you　what；　Jack。　You　get　old；　you　find　out　you're　ready　for　something　but　you　don't　know　what　it　is。　You're　always　getting　prepared。　You're　bing　your　hair；　standing　by　the　window　looking　out。　I　feel　like　there's　some　little　fussy　person　whisking　around　me　all　the　time。　That's　why　I　jumped　in　the　car　and　drove　headlong　all　this　way。〃
　　〃To　break　the　spell；〃　I　said。　〃To　get　away　from　routine　things。　Routine　things　can　be　deadly；　Vern；　carried　to　extremes。　I　have　a　friend　who　says　that's　why　people　take　vacations。　Not　to　relax　or　find　excitement　or　see　new　places。　To　escape　the　death　that　exists　in　routine　things。〃
　　〃What　is　he；　a　Jew？〃
　　〃What's　that　got　to　do　with　it？〃
　　〃Your　roof　gutter's　sagging；〃　he　told　me。　〃You　know　how　to　fix　that；　don't　you？〃
　　Vernon　liked　to　hang　around　outside　the　house；　waiting　for　garbagemen；　telephone　repairmen；　the　mail　carrier；　the　afternoon　newsboy。　Someone　to　talk　to　about　techniques　and　procedures。　Sets　of　special　methods。　Routes；　time　spans；　equipment。　It　tightened　his　grip　on　things；　learning　how　work　was　done　in　areas　outside　his　range。
　　He　liked　to　tease　the　kids　in　his　deadpan　way。　They　answered　his　bantering　remarks　reluctantly。　They　were　suspicious　of　all　relatives。　Relatives　were　a　sensitive　issue；　part　of　the　murky　and　plex　past；　the　divided　lives；　the　memories　that　could　be　refloated　by　a　word　or　a　name。
　　He　liked　to　sit　in　his　tortured　hatchback；　smoking。
　　Babette　would　watch　from　a　window；　managing　to　express　love；　worry；　exasperation　and　despair；　hope　and　gloom；　more　or　less　simultaneously。　Vernon　had　only　to　shift　his　weight　to　arouse　in　her　a　series　of　extreme　emotions。
　　He　liked　to　mingle　with　shopping　mall　crowds。
　　〃I'm　counting　on　you　to　tell　me；　Jack。〃
　　〃Tell　you　what？〃
　　〃You're　the　only　person　I　know　that's　educated　enough　to　give　me　the　answer。〃
　　〃The　answer　to　what？〃
　　〃Were　people　this　dumb　before　television？〃
　　One　night　I　heard　a　voice　and　thought　he　was　moaning　in　his　sleep。　I　put　on　my　robe；　went　into　the　hall；　realized　the　sound　came　from　the　TV　set　in　Denise's　room。　I　went　in　and　turned　off　the　set。　She　was　asleep　in　a　drift　of　blankets；　books　and　clothes。　On　an　impulse　I　went　quietly　to　the　open　closet；　pulled　the　light　cord　and　peered　inside；　looking　for　the　Dylar　tablets。　I　closed　the　door　against　my　body；　which　was　half　in；　half　out　of　the　closet。　I　saw　a　great　array　of　fabrics；　shoes；　toys；　games　and　other　objects。　I　poked　around；　catching　an　occasional　trace　of　some　childhood　redolence。　Clay；　sneakers；　pencil　shavings。　The　bottle　might　be　in　an　abandoned　shoe；　the　pocket　of　some　old　shirt　wadded　in　a　corner。　I　heard　her　stir。　I　went　still；　held　my　breath。
　　〃What　are　you　doing？〃　she　said。
　　〃Don't　worry；　it's　only　me。〃
　　〃I　know　who　it　is。〃
　　I　kept　on　looking　through　the　closet；　thinking　this　would　make　me　appear　less　guilty。
　　〃I　know　what　you're　looking　for；　too。〃
　　〃Denise；　I've　had　a　recent　scare。　I　thought　something　awful　was　about　to　happen。　It　turned　out　I　was　wrong；　thank　goodness。　But　there　are　lingering　effects。　I　need　the　Dylar。　It　may　help　me　solve　a　problem。〃
　　I　continued　to　rummage。
　　〃What's　the　problem？〃
　　〃Isn't　it　enough　for　you　to　know　that　a　problem　exists？　I　wouldn't　be　here　otherwise。　Don't　you　want　to　be　my　friend？〃
　　〃I　am　your　friend。　I　just　don't　want　to　be　tricked。〃
　　'There's　no　question　of　tricking。　I　just　need　to　try　the　medication。　There　are　four　tablets　left。　I'll　take　them　and　that'll　be　the　end　of　it。〃
　　The　more　casual　the　voice；　the　better　my　chances　of　reaching　her。
　　〃You　won't　take　them。　You'll　give　them　to　my　mother。〃
　　〃Let's　be　clear　about　one　thing；〃　I　said　like　a　high　government　official。　〃Your　mother　is　not　a　drug　addict。　Dylar　is　not　that　kind　of　medication。〃
　　〃What　is　it　then？　Just　tell　me　what　it　is。〃
　　Something　in　her　voice　or　in　my　heart　or　in　the　absurdity　of　the　moment　allowed　me　to　consider　the　possibility　of　answering　her　question。　A　breakthrough。　Why　not　simply　tell　her？　She　was　responsible；　able　to　gauge　the　implications　of　serious　things。　I　realized　Babette　and　I　had　been　foolish　all　along；　keeping　the　truth　from　her。　The　girl　would　embrace　the　truth；　know　us　better；　love　us　more　deeply　in　our　weakness　and　fear。
　　I　went　and　sat　at　the　end　of　the　bed。　She　watched　me　carefully。　I　told　her　the　basic　story；　leaving　out　the　tears；　the　passions；　the　terror；　the　horror；　my　exposure　to　Nyodene　D。；　Babette's　sexual　arrangement　with　Mr。　Gray；　our　argument　over　which　of　us　feared　death　more。　I　concentrated　on　the　medication　itself；　told　her　everything　I　knew　about　its　life　in　the　gastrointestinal　tract　and　the　brain。
　　The　first　thing　she　mentioned　was　the　side　effects。　Every　drug　has　side　effects。　A　drug　that　could　eliminate　fear　of　death　would　have　awesome　side　effects；　especially　if　it　is　still　in　a　trial　stage。　She　was　right；　of　course。　Babette　had　spoken　of　outright　death；　brain　death；　left　brain　death；　partial　paralysis；　other　cruel　and　bizarre　conditions　of　the　body　and　mind。
　　I　told　Denise　the　power　of　suggestion　could　be　more　important　than　side　effects。
　　〃Remember　how　you　heard　on　the　radio　that　the　billowing　cloud　caused　sweaty　palms？　Your　palms　got　sweaty；　didn't　they？　The　power　of　suggestion　makes　some　people　sick；　others　well；　it　may　not　matter　how　strong　or　weak　Dylar　is。　If　I　think　it　will　help　me；　it　will　help　me。〃
　　〃Up　to　a　point。〃
　　〃We　are　talking　about　death；〃　I　whispered。　〃In　a　very　real　sense　it　doesn't　matter　what　is　in　those　tablets。　It　could　be　sugar；　it　could　be　spice。　I　am　eager　to　be　humored；　to　be　fooled。〃
　　〃Isn't　that　a　little　stupid？〃
　　〃This　is　what　happens；　Denise；　to　desperate　people。〃
　　There　was　a　silence。　I　waited　for　her　to　ask　me　if　this　desperation　was　inevitable；　if　she　would　one　day　experience　the　same　fear；　undergo　the　same　ordeal。
　　Instead　she　said；　〃Strong　or　weak　doesn't　matter。　I　threw　the　bottle　away。〃
　　〃No；　you　didn't。　Where？〃
　　〃I　put　it　in　the　garbage　pactor。〃
　　〃I　don't　believe　you。　When　was　this？〃
　　〃About　a　week　ago。　I　thought　Baba　might　sneak　through　my　room　and　find　it。　So　I　decided　to　just　get　it　over　with。　Nobody　wanted　to　tell　me　what　it　was；　did　they？　So　I　threw　it　in　with　all　the　cans　and　bottles　and　other　junk。　Then　I　pacted　it。〃
　　〃Like　a　used　car。〃
　　〃Nobody　would　tell　me。　That's　all　they　had　to　do。　I　was　right　here　all　the　time。〃
　　〃It's　all　right。　Don't　worry。　You　did　me　a　favor。〃
　　〃About　eight　words　was　all　they　needed　to　say。〃
　　〃I'm　better　off　without　it。〃
　　〃It　wouldn't　have　been　the　first　time　they　tricked　me。〃
　　〃You're　still　my　friend；〃　I　said。
　　I　kissed　her　on　the　head　and　went　to　the　door。　I　realized　I　was　extremely　hungry。　I　went　downstairs　to　find　something　to　eat。　The　kitchen　light　was　on。　Vernon　was　sitting　at　the　table；　fully　dressed；　smoking　and　coughing。　The　ash　on　his　cigarette　was　an　inch　long；　beginning　to　lean。　It　was　a　habit　of　his；　letting　the　ash　dangle。　Babette　thought　he　did　it　to　induce　feelings　of　suspense　and　anxiety　in　others。　It　was　part　of　the　reckless　weather　in　which　he　moved。
　　〃Just　the　man　I　want　to　see。〃
　　〃Vern；　it's　the　middle　of　the　night。　Don't　you　ever　sleep？〃
　　〃Let's　go　out　to　the　car；〃　he　said。
　　〃Are　you　serious？〃
　　〃What　we　have　here　is　a　situation　we　ought　to　conduct　in　private。　This　house　is　full　of　women。　Or　am　I　wrong？〃
　　〃We're　alone　here。　What　is　it　you　want　to　talk　about？〃
　　〃They　listen　in　their　sleep；〃　he　said。
　　We　went　out　the　back　door　to　keep　from　waking　Heinrich。　I　followed　him　along　the　pathway　at　the　side　of　the　house　and　down　the　steps　to　the　driveway。　His　little　car　sat　in　the　dark。　He　got　behind　the　wheel　and　I　slid　in　next　to　him；　gathering　up　my　bathrobe　and　feeling　trapped　in　the　limited　space。　The　car　held　a　smell　like　some　dangerous　vapor　in　the　depths　of　a　body…and…fender　shop；　a　mixture　of　exhausted　metal；　flammable　rags　and　scorched　rubber。　The　upholstery　was　torn。　In　the　glow　of　a　street…lamp　I　saw　wires　dangling　from　the　dash　and　the　overhead　fixture。
　　〃I　want　you　to　have　this；　Jack。〃
　　〃Have　what？〃
　　〃I