《渺小一生》:但總之，次日他出現(xiàn)了

　 And he begins to say something else, but as he does, the elevator doors close—and he is left alone at last.

之后他又開(kāi)口說(shuō)些別的。正當(dāng)此時(shí)，電梯門(mén)關(guān)上了——終于只剩他一個(gè)人了。

　 3

3

　 HE DIDN’T BEGIN it consciously, he really didn’t, and yet when he comprehends what he is doing, he doesn’t stop it, either. It is the middle of November, and he is getting out of the pool after his morning swim, and as he’s lifting himself up on the metal bars that Richard had had installed around the pool to help him get in and out of his wheelchair, the world disappears.

他不是刻意開(kāi)始的，真的不是。然而當(dāng)他理解自己在做什么的時(shí)候，他也沒(méi)有停止。那是十一月中，某天他晨泳完要爬出泳池，拉著理查德沿泳池安裝的、協(xié)助他上下輪椅的鐵欄桿，要把自己往上抬起時(shí)，整個(gè)世界消失了。

　 When he wakes again, it’s only ten minutes later. One moment it was six forty-five a.m., and he was pulling himself up; the next it is six fifty-five a.m., and he is prone on the black rubber floor, his arms reaching forward for the chair, his torso leaving a wet splotch on the ground. He groans, moving into a sitting position, and waits until the room rights itself again, before attempting—and this time, succeeding—to hoist himself up.

他再度醒來(lái)時(shí)，才過(guò)了十分鐘。這一刻是早晨6點(diǎn)45分，他正拉著自己往上；下一刻就是6點(diǎn)55分，他趴在泳池邊的黑色橡膠地墊上，雙臂往前伸向輪椅，軀干在地板上留下一塊濕濕的印記。他呻吟著，挪動(dòng)著坐起身，等到整個(gè)房間轉(zhuǎn)正，才試著把自己拖上去。這回他成功了。

　 The second time comes a few days later. He has just gotten home from the office, and it is late. Increasingly, he has begun to feel as if Rosen Pritchard supplies him with his very energy, and once he leaves its premises, so too does his strength: the moment Mr. Ahmed shuts the back door of the car, he is asleep, and he doesn’t wake until he is delivered to Greene Street. But as he walks into the dark, quiet apartment that night, he is overcome by a sense of displacement, one so debilitating that for a moment he stops, blinking and confused, before he moves to the sofa in the living room and lies down. He means to just rest, just for a few minutes, just until he can stand again, but when he opens his eyes next it is day, and the living room is gray with light.

第二次發(fā)作是幾天后。他剛從辦公室回到家，當(dāng)時(shí)很晚了。最近他越來(lái)越覺(jué)得羅森·普理查德為他提供所有的精力，只要一離開(kāi)事務(wù)所，他就失去了力氣：艾哈邁德先生關(guān)上后車(chē)門(mén)的那一刻，他就立刻睡著，一路睡到格林街才醒來(lái)。但那天晚上，當(dāng)他走進(jìn)那間黑暗、安靜的公寓里，忽然被一種錯(cuò)置感壓垮，整個(gè)人虛弱得停下來(lái)，眨著眼睛，覺(jué)得很困惑，之后才走到起居室的沙發(fā)躺下來(lái)。他本來(lái)只想休息一下，過(guò)幾分鐘就站起來(lái)，但等到他再度睜開(kāi)眼睛，已經(jīng)是次日了，整個(gè)起居室充滿了灰白的天光。

　 The third time is Monday morning. He wakes before his alarm, and although he is lying down, he feels everything around and within him roiling, as if he is a bottle half filled with water set adrift on an ocean of clouds. In recent weeks, he hasn’t had to drug himself at all on Sundays: he gets home from dinner with JB on Saturday, and climbs into bed, and only wakes when Richard comes to find him the next day. When Richard doesn’t come—as he hadn’t this Sunday; he and India are visiting her parents in New Mexico—he sleeps through the entire day, through the entire night. He dreams of nothing, and nothing wakes him.

第三次是星期一早晨。他在鬧鐘響起之前就醒了。雖然他躺在床上，卻感覺(jué)周?chē)腕w內(nèi)的一切都在翻攪，好像他是一瓶裝得半滿的水，飄浮在一片云海間。最近幾個(gè)星期，他星期天根本不必吃安眠藥：星期六和杰比吃完晚餐回來(lái)后，一爬上床就睡著，直到理查德次日來(lái)找他才會(huì)醒來(lái)。如果理查德不來(lái)的話（就像這個(gè)星期天，他陪印蒂亞回新墨西哥州的娘家），他就睡掉一整天，睡掉一整夜。他什么都不會(huì)夢(mèng)到，也不會(huì)中途醒來(lái)。

　 He knows what is happening, of course: he isn’t eating enough. He hasn’t been for months. Some days he eats very little—a piece of fruit; a piece of bread—and some days he eats nothing at all. It isn’t as if he has decided to stop eating—it is simply that he is no longer interested, that he no longer can. He isn’t hungry, so he doesn’t eat.

當(dāng)然，他知道這是怎么回事：他吃得不夠多。好幾個(gè)月都是這樣了。有些日子他吃得非常少，只吃一片水果、一片面包，有些日子完全沒(méi)吃。他沒(méi)有決定停止進(jìn)食，純粹是再也沒(méi)有興趣吃，吃不下了。他不餓，所以就不吃。

　 That Monday, though, he does. He gets up, he totters downstairs. He swims, but poorly, slowly. And then he comes back upstairs, he makes himself breakfast. He sits and eats it, staring into the apartment, the newspapers folded on the table beside him. He opens his mouth, he inserts a forkful of food, he chews, he swallows. He keeps his movements mechanical, but suddenly he thinks of how grotesque a process it is, putting something into his mouth, moving it around with his tongue, swallowing down the saliva-clotted plug of it, and he stops. Still, he promises himself: I will eat, even if I don’t want to, because I am alive and this is what I am to do. But he forgets, and forgets again.

不過(guò)那個(gè)星期一，他吃了東西。起床后，踉蹌地下樓游泳，但是游得很辛苦、很慢。接著他回到樓上，給自己做早餐，然后坐下來(lái)吃。他邊吃邊瞪著公寓，折起的報(bào)紙放在旁邊的桌上。他張開(kāi)嘴巴，放進(jìn)一口食物，咀嚼，吞咽。他保持機(jī)械化的動(dòng)作，但忽然間想到這個(gè)過(guò)程有多怪誕：把東西放進(jìn)嘴里、用舌頭攪拌、咽下那一整團(tuán)黏著口水的食物，于是他停下?？墒撬€是向自己承諾：我會(huì)吃的，即使我不想吃，因?yàn)槲疫€活著，就要吃東西。但是他一忘再忘。

　 And then, two days later, something happens. He has just come home, so exhausted that he feels soluble, as if he is evaporating into the air, so insubstantial that he feels made not of blood and bone but of vapor and fog, when he sees Willem standing before him. He opens his mouth to speak to him, but then he blinks and Willem is gone, and he is teetering, his arms stretched before him.

接著，兩天后，有事情發(fā)生了。他才剛到家，累到覺(jué)得自己好像是可溶解的物質(zhì)，仿佛他整個(gè)人就要蒸發(fā)掉，虛無(wú)到宛如自己不是由血和骨頭，而是由蒸氣和煙霧構(gòu)成的，此時(shí)他看到威廉站在他面前。他張嘴要跟威廉說(shuō)話，但他眨了眨眼，威廉就不見(jiàn)了。他搖搖晃晃，雙臂往前伸。

　 “Willem,” he says aloud into the empty apartment. “Willem.” He closes his eyes, as if he might conjure him that way, but Willem doesn’t reappear.

“威廉，”他對(duì)著空蕩的公寓說(shuō)，“威廉。”他閉上眼睛，仿佛這樣就可以召喚他，但威廉沒(méi)再出現(xiàn)。

　 The next day, however, he does. He is once again at home. It is once again night. He has once again not eaten anything. He is lying in bed, he is staring into the dark of the room. And there, abruptly, is Willem, shimmery as a hologram, the edges of him blurring with light, and although Willem isn’t looking at him—he is looking elsewhere, looking toward the doorway, looking so intently that he wants to follow Willem’s sightline, to see what Willem sees, but he knows he mustn’t blink, he mustn’t turn away, or Willem will leave him—it is enough to see him, to feel that he in some way still exists, that his disappearance might not be a permanent state after all. But finally, he has to blink, and Willem vanishes once more.

但總之，次日他出現(xiàn)了。這回又是在家，也是在夜里，而且他又是一整天沒(méi)吃飯。他躺在床上，望著一片黑暗。突然間，威廉就在那里，像立體投影般透著微光，邊緣發(fā)亮而模糊。威廉沒(méi)在看他——他看著別的地方，朝著門(mén)口，看起來(lái)很專注，他想跟隨威廉的視線，瞧瞧威廉正在看什么，但他知道自己不能眨眼，不能別開(kāi)眼睛，否則威廉就會(huì)離開(kāi)他。不過(guò)能夠看到他，感覺(jué)到他依然以某種方式存在，感覺(jué)到他的消失或許不是永遠(yuǎn)的，這樣就足夠了。但最后，他不得不眨眼，于是威廉又不見(jiàn)了。

　 However, he isn’t too upset, because now he knows: if he doesn’t eat, if he can last to the point just before collapse, he will begin having hallucinations, and his hallucinations might be of Willem. That night he falls asleep contented, the first time he has felt contentment in nearly fifteen months, because now he knows how to recall Willem; now he knows his ability to summon Willem is within his control.

總之他沒(méi)有太難過(guò)，因?yàn)楝F(xiàn)在他明白了：如果他不吃東西，撐到快昏倒的那一刻，他就會(huì)開(kāi)始產(chǎn)生幻覺(jué)，而他的幻覺(jué)中可能會(huì)有威廉。那天夜里他滿足地睡著了，是近十五個(gè)月來(lái)第一次覺(jué)得滿足，因?yàn)楝F(xiàn)在他知道如何召喚威廉，知道自己可以控制召喚威廉的能力。

　 He cancels his appointment with Andy so he can stay home and experiment. This is the third consecutive Friday he hasn’t seen Andy. Since that night at the restaurant, the two of them have been polite with each other, and Andy hasn’t mentioned Linus, or any other doctor, again, although he has said he’ll raise the subject anew in six months. “It’s not a matter of wanting to get rid of you, Jude,” he said. “And I’m sorry, I really am, if that’s how it sounded. I’m just worried. I just want to make sure we find someone you like, someone I know you’ll be comfortable with.”

他取消了和安迪的約診，待在家里實(shí)驗(yàn)。這是他連續(xù)第三個(gè)星期五沒(méi)去看安迪。自從餐廳里的那一晚，他們兩個(gè)對(duì)彼此都很客氣。安迪再也沒(méi)提到萊納斯或其他醫(yī)生，但是他說(shuō)六個(gè)月后會(huì)再討論這件事。“我不是想擺脫你，裘德。”安迪說(shuō)，“如果你的感覺(jué)是這樣，那么我很抱歉，真的。我只是擔(dān)心。我只是想確定我們能找到一個(gè)你喜歡的人，讓你自在相處的人。”

　 “I know, Andy,” he said. “And I appreciate it; I do. I’ve been behaving badly, and I took it out on you.” But he knows now that he has to be careful: he has tasted anger, and he knows he has to control it. He can feel it, waiting to burst from his mouth in a swarm of stinging black flies. Where has this rage been hiding? he wonders. How can he make it disappear? Lately his dreams have been of violence, of terrible things befalling the people he hates, the people he loves: he sees Brother Luke being stuffed into a sack full of squealing, starved rats; he sees JB’s head being slammed against a wall, his brain splashing out in a gray slurry. In the dreams he is always there, dispassionate and watchful, and after witnessing their destruction, he turns and walks away. He wakes with his nose bleeding the way it had when he was a child and was suppressing a tantrum, with his hands shaking, with his face contorted into a snarl.

“安迪，我知道。”他說(shuō)，“而且我很感激你，真的。我表現(xiàn)得太沒(méi)禮貌了，還對(duì)你出氣。”現(xiàn)在他知道自己得小心：他已經(jīng)嘗到憤怒的滋味了，他知道自己必須控制。他可以感覺(jué)到怒氣就等著從他嘴里沖出來(lái)，化為一群帶刺的黑蠅。以前這股憤怒都躲在哪里呢？他很好奇。他要怎么讓這種怒氣消失？最近他的夢(mèng)都很暴力，夢(mèng)到可怕的事情降臨在他怨恨和鐘愛(ài)的人身上：他夢(mèng)到盧克修士被塞進(jìn)一個(gè)大麻布袋，里面充滿饑餓得尖叫的老鼠；他夢(mèng)到杰比的腦袋被砸到墻上，濺出一片灰色的腦漿。在夢(mèng)中他總是在場(chǎng)，無(wú)動(dòng)于衷地看著，目睹這些人毀滅后，他就轉(zhuǎn)身離開(kāi)。他醒來(lái)時(shí)在流鼻血，就像小時(shí)候忍著不亂發(fā)脾氣時(shí)那樣，雙手顫抖，面孔扭曲。

　 That Friday Willem doesn’t come to him after all. But the next evening, as he is leaving the office to meet JB for dinner, he turns his head to the right and sees, sitting next to him in the car, Willem. This time, he fancies, Willem is a little harder-edged, a little more solid, and he stares and stares until he blinks and Willem once again dissolves.

那個(gè)星期五，威廉還是沒(méi)出現(xiàn)。次日傍晚，他離開(kāi)辦公室坐上車(chē)，正要去跟杰比碰面吃晚餐。他頭轉(zhuǎn)向右邊，看到坐在他旁邊的是威廉。這回，他覺(jué)得威廉更具體一點(diǎn)、更結(jié)實(shí)一點(diǎn)。他盯著一直看、一直看，直到他眨眼，威廉再度消失。

　 After these episodes he is depleted, and the world around him dims as if all its power and electricity has gone toward creating Willem. He instructs Mr. Ahmed to take him home instead of to the restaurant; as he is driven south, he texts JB to tell him he’s feeling sick and can’t make it. He is doing this more and more: canceling plans with people, shoddily and usually unforgivably late—an hour before a hard-to-secure dinner reservation, minutes after a scheduled meeting time at a gallery, seconds before the curtain rises above a stage. Richard, JB, Andy, Harold and Julia: these are the final people who still contact him, persistently, week after week. He can’t remember when he last heard from Citizen or Rhodes or the Henry Youngs or Elijah or Phaedra—it has been weeks, at least. And although he knows he should care, he doesn’t. His hope, his energy are no longer replenishable resources; his reserves are limited, and he wants to spend them trying to find Willem, even if the hunt is elusive, even if he is likely to fail.

每回看到威廉之后，他就力氣用盡，整個(gè)世界黯淡下來(lái)，仿佛他所有的能量和電力都因?yàn)閯?chuàng)造威廉被用光了。他叫艾哈邁德先生改送他回家，不要去餐廳了。車(chē)子往南時(shí)，他發(fā)了短信給杰比，跟他說(shuō)自己身體不舒服，沒(méi)辦法去了。這種事他越來(lái)越常做：惡劣地取消約會(huì)，經(jīng)常遲到，不可原諒。在一個(gè)小時(shí)前取消很難訂到位子的餐廳晚餐；過(guò)了約定時(shí)間幾分鐘，才通知?jiǎng)e人不去畫(huà)廊跟他們碰面；舞臺(tái)劇開(kāi)演前幾秒鐘才說(shuō)自己不去看了。理查德、杰比、安迪、哈羅德和朱麗婭，現(xiàn)在只剩這些人每星期還會(huì)跟他聯(lián)系，堅(jiān)持不懈。他不記得上回西提任、羅茲、兩個(gè)亨利·楊、伊利亞或菲德拉跟他聯(lián)系是什么時(shí)候的事，至少有好幾個(gè)星期了。他知道自己應(yīng)該在乎，但他并不在乎。他的希望、精力不再是可以補(bǔ)足的資源，而是數(shù)量有限的，所以他只想用它們來(lái)設(shè)法尋找威廉，即使這個(gè)獵物出沒(méi)不定，即使他很可能會(huì)失敗。

　 And so home he goes, and he waits and waits for Willem to appear to him. But he doesn’t, and finally he sleeps.

他回家等了又等，希望威廉出現(xiàn)在他面前。結(jié)果沒(méi)等到，于是他睡了。

　 The next day he waits in bed, trying to suspend himself between alertness and dazedness, for that (he thinks) is the state in which he is most likely to summon Willem.

次日他躺在床上等，設(shè)法讓自己維持處于警覺(jué)和暈眩之間的狀態(tài)，因?yàn)樗X(jué)得這個(gè)狀態(tài)最可能成功召喚威廉。

　 On Monday he wakes, feeling foolish. This has got to stop, he tells himself. You have got to rejoin the living. You’re acting like an insane person. Visions? Do you know what you sound like?

星期一他醒來(lái)，覺(jué)得自己好傻。這種事情必須停止，他告訴自己。你必須重新回到活人的世界。你這樣像個(gè)瘋子?；孟?？你知道這聽(tīng)起來(lái)有多瘋狂嗎？

　 He thinks of the monastery, where Brother Pavel liked to tell him the story of an eleventh-century nun named Hildegard. Hildegard had visions; she closed her eyes and illuminated objects appeared before her; her days were aswim with light. But Brother Pavel was less interested in Hildegard than in Hildegard’s instructor, Jutta, who had forsaken the material world to live as an ascetic in a small cell, dead to the concerns of the living, alive but not alive. “That’s what will happen to you if you don’t obey,” Pavel would say, and he would be terrified. There was a small toolshed on the monastery’s grounds, dark and chilly and jumbled with malevolent-looking iron objects, each of them ending in a spike, a spear, a scythe, and when the brother told him of Jutta, he imagined he would be forced into the toolshed, fed just enough to survive, and on and on and on he would live, almost forgotten but not completely, almost dead but not completely. But even Jutta had had Hildegard for company. He would have no one. How frightened he had been; how certain he was that this, someday, would come to pass.

他想到修道院，小時(shí)候帕維爾修士喜歡跟他講一個(gè)11世紀(jì)修女赫德嘉的故事。赫德嘉有靈視；她閉上眼睛，眼前就會(huì)出現(xiàn)發(fā)光的東西；她每天都像是沐浴在光亮中。帕維爾修士對(duì)赫德嘉的興趣不如對(duì)她的老師尤塔來(lái)得大，尤塔棄絕了物質(zhì)世界，關(guān)在一個(gè)小房間里苦修，不再關(guān)心活人，活著卻猶如行尸走肉。“如果你不聽(tīng)話，就會(huì)變成這樣。”帕維爾這樣說(shuō)，害他嚇得要命。修道院有個(gè)小小的工具小屋，黑暗而寒冷，里面亂七八糟地塞著一些看起來(lái)很可怕的鐵器，每個(gè)尾端都是尖刺或矛，還有長(zhǎng)柄大鐮刀。帕維爾修士告訴他尤塔的故事后，他就想象自己被關(guān)進(jìn)那個(gè)工具小屋，給他的食物只夠勉強(qiáng)存活，然后他會(huì)一直活下去，幾乎被遺忘但又沒(méi)被完全忘記，快要死但還沒(méi)死。即使尤塔都還有赫德嘉做伴，他卻一個(gè)伴都沒(méi)有。他一直很害怕，很確定這樣的事情總有一天會(huì)發(fā)生。