白噪音(White Noise) (英文版)作者:唐·德里罗(Don DeLillo)-第8章

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　　〃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　ramming　my　cart　into　Babette's。　I　wanted　to　hear　everything。
　　〃Supermarkets　this　large　and　clean　and　modern　are　a　revelation　to　me。　I　spent　my　life　in　small　steamy　delicatessens　with　slanted　display　cabinets　full　of　trays　that　hold　soft　wet　lumpy　matter　in　pale　colors。　High　enough　cabinets　so　you　had　to　stand　on　tiptoes　to　give　your　order。　Shouts；　accents。　In　cities　no　one　notices　specific　dying。　Dying　is　a　quality　of　the　air。　It's　everywhere　and　nowhere。　Men　shout　as　they　die；　to　be　noticed；　remembered　for　a　second　or　two。　To　die　in　an　apartment　instead　of　a　house　can　depress　the　soul；　I　would　imagine；　for　several　lives　to　e。　In　a　town　there　are　houses；　plants　in　bay　windows。　People　notice　dying　better。　The　dead　have　faces；　automobiles。　If　you　don't　know　a　name；　you　know　a　street　name；　a　dog's　name。　'He　drove　an　orange　Mazda。'
　　You　know　a　couple　of　useless　things　about　a　person　that　bee　major　facts　of　identification　and　cosmic　placement　when　he　dies　suddenly；　after　a　short　illness；　in　his　own　bed；　with　a　forter　and　matching　pillows