白噪音(White Noise) (英文版)作者:唐·德里罗(Don DeLillo)-第7章
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〃I don't know； Murray。〃
〃It's obvious；〃 he said。
He asked me why I'd chosen this year in particular to learn German； after so many years of slipping past the radar。 I told him there was a Hitler conference scheduled for next spring at the College…on…the…Hill。 Three days of lectures； workshops and panels。 Hitler scholars from seventeen states and nine foreign countries。 Actual Germans would be in attendance。
At home Denise placed a moist bag of garbage in the kitchen pactor。 She started up the machine。 The ram stroked downward with a dreadful wrenching sound； full of eerie feeling。 Children walked in and out of the kitchen； water dripped in the sink； the washing machine heaved in the entranceway。 Murray seemed engrossed in the incidental mesh。 Whining metal； exploding bottles； plastic smashed flat。 Denise listened carefully； making sure the mangling din contained the correct sonic elements； which meant the machine was operating properly。
Heinrich said to someone on the phone； 〃Animals mit incest all the time。 So how unnatural can it be？〃
Babette came in from running； her outfit soaked through。 Murray walked across the kitchen to shake her hand。 She fell into a chair； scanned the room for Wilder。 I watched Denise make a mental parison between her mother's running clothes and the wet bag she'd dumped in the pactor。 I could see it in her eyes； a sardonic connection。 It was these secondary levels of life； these extrasensory flashes and floating nuances of being； these pockets of rapport forming unexpectedly； that made me believe we were a magic act； adults and children together； sharing unaccountable things。
〃We have to boil our water；〃 Steffie said。
〃Why？〃
〃It said on the radio。〃
〃They're always saying boil your water；〃 Babette said。 〃It's the new thing； like turn your wheel in the direction of the skid。 Here es Wilder now。 I guess we can eat。〃
The small child moved in a swaying gait； great head wagging； and his mother made faces of delight； happy and outlandish masks； watching him approach。
〃Neutrinos go right through the earth；〃 Heinrich said into the telephone。
〃Yes yes yes；〃 said Babette。
9
They had to evacuate the grade school on Tuesday。 Kids were getting headaches and eye irritations； tasting metal in their mouths。 A teacher rolled on the floor and spoke foreign languages。 No one knew what was wrong。 Investigators said it could be the ventilating system； the paint or varnish； the foam insulation； the electrical insulation； the cafeteria food； the rays emitted by microputers； the asbestos fireproofing； the adhesive on shipping containers； the fumes from the chlorinated pool； or perhaps something deeper； finer…grained； more closely woven into the basic state of things。
Denise and Steffie stayed home that week as men in Mylex suits and respirator masks made systematic sweeps of the building with infrared detecting and measuring equipment。 Because Mylex is itself a suspect material； the results tended to be ambiguous and a second round of more rigorous detection had to be scheduled。
The two girls and Babette； Wilder and I went to the supermarket。 Minutes after we entered； we ran into Murray。 This was the fourth or fifth time I'd seen him in the supermarket； which was roughly the number of times I'd seen him on campus。 He clutched Babette by the left bicep and sidled around her； appearing to smell her hair。
〃A lovely dinner；〃 he said； standing directly behind her。 〃I like to cook myself； which doubles my appreciation of someone who does it well。〃
〃e any time；〃 she said； turning in an effort to find him。
We moved together into the ultra…cool interior。 Wilder sat in the shopping cart trying to grab items off the shelves as we went by。 It occurred to me that he was too old and too big to be sitting in supermarket carts。 I also wondered why his vocabulary seemed to be stalled at twenty…five words。
〃I'm happy to be here；〃 Murray said。
〃In Blacksmith？〃
〃In Blacksmith； in the supermarket； in the rooming house； on the Hill。 I feel I'm learning important things every day。 Death； disease； afterlife； outer space。 It's all much clearer here。 I can think and see。〃
We moved into the generic food area and Murray paused with his plastic basket to probe among the white cartons and jars。 I wasn't sure I understood what he was talking about。 What did he mean； much clearer？ He could think and see what？
Steffie took my hand and we walked past the fruit bins； an area that extended about forty…five yards along one wall。 The bins were arranged diagonally and backed by mirrors that people accidentally punched when reaching for fruit in the upper rows。 A voice on the loudspeaker said： 〃Kleenex Softique； your truck's blocking the entrance。〃 Apples and lemons tumbled in twos and threes to the floor when someone took a fruit from certain places in the stacked array。 There were six kinds of apples； there were exotic melons in several pastels。 Everything seemed to be in season； sprayed； burnished； bright。 People tore filmy bags off racks and tried to figure out which end opened。 I realized the place was awash in noise。 The toneless systems； the jangle and skid of carts； the loudspeaker and coffee…making machines； the cries of children。 And over it all； or under it all； a dull and unlocatable roar； as of some form of swarming life just outside the range of human apprehension。
〃Did you tell Denise you were sorry？〃
〃Maybe later；〃 Steffie said。 〃Remind me。〃
〃She's a sweet girl and she wants to be your older sister and your friend if you'll let her。〃
〃I don't know about friend。 She's a little bossy； don't you think？〃
〃Aside from telling her you're sorry； be sure to give her back her Physicians' Desk Reference。〃
〃She reads that thing all the time。 Don't you think that's weird？〃
〃At least she reads something。〃
〃Sure； lists of drugs and medicines。 And do you want to know why？〃
〃Why？〃
〃Because she's trying to find out the side effects of the stuff that Baba uses。〃
〃What does Baba use？〃
〃Don't ask me。 Ask Denise。〃
〃How do you know she uses anything？〃
〃Ask Denise。〃
〃Why don't I ask Baba？〃
〃Ask Baba；〃 she said。
Murray came out of an aisle and walked alongside Babette； just ahead of us。 He took a twin roll of paper towels out of her cart and smelled it。 Denise had found some friends and they went up front to look at the paperback books in spindly racks； the books with shiny metallic print； raised letters； vivid illustrations of cult violence and windswept romance。 Denise was wearing a green visor。 I heard Babette tell Murray she'd been wearing it fourteen hours a day for three weeks now。 She would not go out without it； would not even leave her room。 She wore it in school； when there was school； wore it to the toilet； the dentist's chair； the dinner table。 Something about the visor seemed to speak to her； to offer wholeness and identity。
〃It's her interface with the world；〃 Murray said。
He helped Babette push her loaded cart。 I heard him say to her； 〃Tibetans believe there is a transitional state between death and rebirth。 Death is a waiting period； basically。 Soon a fresh womb will receive the soul。 In the meantime the soul restores to itself some of the divinity lost at birth。〃 He studied her profile as if to detect a reaction。 〃That's what I think of whenever I e in here。 This place recharges us spiritually； it prepares us； it's a gateway or pathway。 Look how bright。 It's full of psychic data。〃
My wife smiled at him。
〃Everything is concealed in symbolism； hidden by veils of mystery and layers of cultural material。 But it is psychic data； absolutely。 The large doors slide open； they close unbidden。 Energy waves； incident radiation。 All the letters and numbers are here； all the colors of the spectrum； all the voices and sounds； all the code words and ceremonial phrases。 It is just a question of deciphering； rearranging； peeling off the layers of unspeakability。 Not that we would want to； not that any useful purpose would be served。 This is not Tibet。 Even Tibet is not Tibet anymore。〃
He studied her profile。 She put some yogurt in her cart。
〃Tibetans try to see death for what it is。 It is the end of attachment to things。 This simple truth is hard to fathom。 But once we stop denying death； we can proceed calmly to die and then go on to experience uterine rebirth or Judeo…Christian afterlife or out…of…body experience or a trip on a UFO or whatever we wish to call it。 We can do so with clear vision； without awe or terror。 We don't have to cling to life artificially； or to death for that matter。 We simply walk toward the sliding doors。 Waves and radiation。 Look how well…lighted everything is。 The place is sealed off； self…contained。 It is timeless。 Another reason why I think of Tibet。 Dying is an art in Tibet。 A priest walks in； sits down； tells the weeping relatives to get out and has the room sealed。 Doors； windows sealed。 He has serious business to see to。 Chants； numerology； horoscopes； recitations。 Here we don't die； we shop。 But the difference is less marked than you think。〃
He was almost whispering now and I tried to get up closer without ra
