His message brought an immediate3 response from the waiting engineer, who flicked4 switches and twirled dials with expert motions, and brought into play the gigantic 50,000-watt projector5 installed on the peak.
In his own office, Tom paced the floor in front of the three-window exposure, watching the heavens for the results.
They weren't long in coming.
The eyes came first. Eyes the size of Navy dirigibles, with pupils of deep cerulean blue, floating against the backdrop of the gray cumulus. The long lashes6 curled out almost a hundred feet from the lids. Then the rest of Monica Mitchell's famous face appeared: the flowing yellow locks, the sensuously7 curved lips, parted moistly from even white teeth. From chin to hairline, the projected image above the city was close to a thousand feet in diameter.
Then, as if the floating countenance8 wasn't alarming enough, the ruby9 lips began to move. Monica's sweet-sultry voice, like the first drippings from a jar of honey, overcame the city sounds, and began crooning the syrupy strains of Love Me Alone. Which happened, by no coincidence, to be the title and theme song of Monica's newest epic10.
Monica's image—plastered across the heavens—stopped
traffic in all directions.
It was a triumph. Tom knew it the moment he looked down at the crowded thoroughfare eighteen stories beneath the window. Traffic had come to a more than normal standstill. Drivers were leaving their autos, and hands were being upraised towards the gargantuan11 face on the clouds above.
And of course, Tom's phone rang.
Ostreich's big scowling12 face was barely squeezed within the confines of the visiphone screen. He said nothing intelligible13 for two minutes.
"Relax, Chief," Tom said brightly. "I've been saving this as a surprise."
Ostreich's reply was censorable.
"Now look, D. O. You gave me carte blanche with this Mitchell babe, remember? I figured we really needed a shot in the arm for this new picture of hers. The receipts on her last turkey couldn't pay her masseurs."
Ostreich, who had built his firm by establishing golden public images for various industrialists14 and their enterprises, had anticipated trouble the moment he let the barrier down to admit such unworthy clients as Monica Mitchell. But he had never anticipated that his ace1 publicist would display such carnival15 tactics in their promotion16. He growled17 like a taunted18 leopard19.
"This is a cheap trick, Tom! Do you hear me? Turn that thing off at once!"
"Who, me?" Tom said innocently. "Gosh, D. O. I'm no engineer. I left instructions with the operator to keep the projector going for three hours, until sunset. Don't think I can do anything about it now."
"You'll damn well have to do something about it! You're ruining us!"
"Look at it this way, Chief. What can we lose? If anybody takes offense20, we can blame it on that Hollywood gang."
"Turn that damn thing off! If that blankety face isn't out of the sky in ten minutes, you can start emptying your desk!"
Tom was a redhead. He reached over and snapped the visiphone switch before his boss could have the satisfaction. He stomped21 to the window, still raging at Ostreich's lack of appreciation22.
But he chuckled23 when he saw the activity in the street. The crowds were thickening at the intersections24, and a special battalion25 of city police were trying to keep things moving. Behind him, the visiphone was beeping frantically26 again.
He waited a full minute before answering, all set to snap at Ostreich once more.
But it wasn't Ostreich. It was a square-faced man with beetling27 brows and a chin like the biting end of a steam shovel28. It took Tom a while to recognize the face of Stinson, commissioner29 of police.
"Mr. Blacker?"
"Yes, sir?" Tom gulped30.
"Mr. Ostreich referred me to you. You responsible for that—" the commissioner's voice was choked. "—that menace?"
"Menace, sir?"
"You know what I'm talking about. We've got half a dozen CAA complaints already. That thing's a menace to public safety, a hazard to air travel—"
"Look, Mr. Stinson. It's only a harmless publicity31 stunt32."
"Harmless? You got funny ideas, Mr. Blacker. Don't get the wrong idea about our city ordinances33. We got statutes34 that cover this kind of thing. If you don't want to be a victim of one of them, turn that damned monstrosity off!"
The commissioner's angry visage left a reverse shadow burned on the visiphone screen. It remained glowing there long after the contact was broken.
Tom Blacker walked the carpeted floor of his office, chewing on his lower lip, and cursing the feeble imaginations of Ostreich and the rest of them. When his temper had cooled, he got sober thoughts of indictments35, and law suits, and unemployment. With a sigh, he contacted the engineer on the roof of the Cannon Building. Then he went to the window, and watched Monica's thousand-foot face fade gradually out of sight.
At four o'clock that afternoon, a long white envelope crossed Tom's blotter. There was a check to the amount of a month's salary enclosed, and a briefly36-worded message from the office of the president.
When he left the office, Ostreich's rolling phrases buzzed in his head like swarming37 gnats38. "... a mockery of a great profession ... lowering of dignity ... incompatible39 with the highest ideals of ..."
At ten o'clock that night, Tom was telling his troubles to a red-coated man behind a chromium bar on Forty-ninth Street. The man listened with all the gravity of a physician, and lined up the appropriate medicine in front of his patient.
By midnight, Tom was singing Christmas carols, in advance of the season, with a tableful of Texans.
At one o'clock, he swung a right cross at a mounted policeman, missed, and fell beneath the horse's legs.
At one-fifteen, he fell asleep against the shoulder of a B-girl as they rode through the streets of the city in a sleek40 police vehicle.
That was all Tom Blacker remembered, until he woke up in Livia Cord's cozy41 two-room apartment. He moved his head and winced42 with the pain.
"Hi," the girl said.
She was smiling down at him, and for a moment, her floating face reminded Tom of the episode which had just cost him twenty grand a year. He groaned43, and rolled the other way on the contour couch.
"Hair of the dog?" she said. There was a gleaming cannister in her hand.
"No, thanks." He sat up, rubbing the stiff red hair on the back of his head. One eye seemed permanently44 screwed shut, but the other managed to take in his surroundings. It explored the girl first, and appreciatively.
She was wearing something black and satiny, cut in the newest Dallas-approved style, with long, tantalizing45 diagonal slashes46 across the breast and hips47. Her hair was strikingly two-toned, black and blonde. Her teeth were a blinding white, and had been filed to canine48 sharpness.
"My name's Livia," the girl said pleasantly. "Livia Cord. I hope you don't mind what I did."
"And what was that?" Tom's other eye popped open, almost audibly.
"Bailing50 you out of jail. Seems you got into a fracas51 with a mounted cop. I think you tried to punch his horse."
"Nuts. I was trying to hit him."
"Well, you didn't." She chuckled, and poured herself a drink. "You've had quite a day, Mr. Blacker."
"You said it." There was a taste in his mouth like cigar ashes. He tried to stand up, but the weight on his head kept him where he was. "You wouldn't have an oxygen pill around?"
"Sure." She left with a toss of her skirt and a revelation of silky calves52. When she returned with the tablet and water, he took it gratefully. After a few minutes, he felt better enough to ask:
"Why?"
"What's that?"
"Why'd you bail49 me out? I don't know you. Or do I?"
She laughed. "No. Not yet you don't. But I know you, Mr. Blacker. By reputation, at any rate. You see—" She sat next to him on the couch, and Tom was feeling well enough to tingle53 at her nearness. "We're in the same line of work, you and I."
"Unemployment?"
"No," she smiled. "Public relations. Only I'm on the client's side of the fence. I work for an organization called Homelovers, Incorporated. Ever hear of them?"
Tom shook his head.
"Maybe you should. It's a rather important company, and growing. And they're always on the lookout54 for superior talent."
He squinted55 at her. "What is this? A job offer?"
"Maybe." She wriggled56 a little, and the slits57 in her dress widened just a fraction. "We've got the nucleus58 of a good PR department now. But with a really experienced man at the controls—it could grow enormously. Think you might be interested?"
"Maybe I would," Tom said. But he wasn't thinking about PR right then.
"Mr. Andrusco's had you in mind for a long time," Livia Cord continued. "I've mentioned your name to him several times as a possible candidate. If you hadn't been fired from Ostreich, we might have tried to tempt59 you away." Her fingers touched a stray lock of red hair. "Now—we don't have to be surreptitious about it. Do we?"
"No," Tom said guardedly. "I guess not."
"If you're free tomorrow, I could arrange a meeting with Mr. Andrusco. Would you like that?"
"Well ..."
"His office opens at nine. We could get there early."
Tom looked at his watch. Livia said: "I know it's late. But we could get an early start in the morning, right after breakfast. Couldn't we?"
"I dunno," Tom frowned. "By the time I get home ..."
"Home?" The girl leaned back. "Who said anything about home?"
Her bedroom was monochromed. Even the sheets were pink. At five o'clock, the false dawn glimmered60 through the window, and the light falling on his eyes awakened61 him. He looked over at the sleeping girl, feeling drugged and detached. She moaned slightly, and turned her face towards him. He blinked at the sight of it, and cried aloud.
"What is it?" She sat up in bed and nicked on the table lamp. "What's the matter?"
He looked at her carefully. She was beautiful. There wasn't even a smudge of lipstick62 on her face.
"Nothing," he said dreamily, and turned away. By the time he was asleep again, his mind had already erased63 the strange image from his clouded brain—that Livia Cord had absolutely no mouth at all.
It was hard to keep track of the glass-and-steel structures that had been springing up daily along the Fifth-Madison Thruway. When Tom and Livia stepped out of the cab in front of 320, he wasn't surprised that the building—an odd, cylindrical64 affair with a pointed65 spire—was strange to him. But he was taken aback to realize that all sixty floors were the property of Homelovers, Incorporated.
"Quite a place," he told the girl.
She smiled at him tightly. Livia was crackling with business electricity this morning, her spiked66 heels clicking along the marble floors of the lobby like typewriter keys. She wore a tailored gray suit that clung to her body with all the perfection and sexlessness of a window mannikin. In the elevator, shooting towards the executive offices on the 57th floor, Tom looked over at her and scratched his poorly-shaven cheeks in wonderment.
They plowed67 right through the frosty receptionist barrier, and entered an office only half the size of Penn Station. The man behind the U-shaped desk couldn't have been better suited to the surroundings by Central Casting. He was cleft-jawed, tanned, exquisitely68 tailored. If his polished brown toupee69 had been better fitted, he would have been positively70 handsome.
The handshake was firm.
"Good to see you," he grinned. "Heard a lot about you, Mr. Blacker. All of it good."
"Well," Livia said airily. "I've done my part. Now you two come to terms. Buzz me if you need me, J. A."
John Andrusco unwrapped a cigar when she left, and said: "Well, now. Suppose we get right down to cases, Mr. Blacker. Our organization is badly in need of a public relations set-up that can pull out all the stops. We have money and we have influence. Now all we need is guidance. If you can supply that, there's a vacant chair at the end of the hall that can accommodate your backside." He grinned manfully.
"Well," Tom said delicately. "My big problem is this, Mr. Andrusco. I don't know what the hell business you're in."
The executive laughed heartily71. "Then let me fill you in."
He stepped over to a cork-lined wall, pressed a concealed72 button, and panels parted. An organizational chart, with designations that were meaningless to Tom, appeared behind it.
"Speaking basically," Andrusco said, "Homelovers, Incorporated represents the interests of the world's leading real estate concerns. Land, you know, is still the number one commodity of Earth, the one priceless possession that rarely deteriorates73 in value. In fact, with the increase in the Earth's population, the one commodity that never seems to be in excess supply."
"I see," Tom said, not wholly in truth.
"The stability of real estate is our prime concern. By unification of our efforts, we have maintained these values over a good many years. But as you know, a good business organization never rests on its laurels74. Sometimes, even basic human needs undergo unusual—alterations."
"I'm not following too well," Tom said frankly75. "Just where does public relations come into this? I can't see much connection."
Andrusco frowned, but without wrinkling his serene76 brow too much. He went to the multipaned window and locked his hands behind his back.
"Let me put it this way, Mr. Blacker. With the Earth's population approaching the three billion mark, you can imagine that real estate is at a greater premium77 than ever—yes, even the remotest land areas have gained in market value. But let me ask you this. If there were only a hundred apples in the world, and you owned all of them, what would you do if you learned that someone else had discovered a fruitful orchard78, which contains ten million apples?"
"I'd go out of the apple business."
"Precisely79." Andrusco rocked on his heels. "In a sense, that's very much the problem that Homelovers, Incorporated may have to face in the next generation."
"Somebody swiping your apples?"
"In a way." The man chuckled. "Yes, in a way." He raised his arm slowly, and pointed to the sky. "The apples," he said, "are up there."
"Huh?" Tom said.
"Space, Mr. Blacker. Space is opening its doors to us. Already, the UN Space Commission has launched some two dozen manned vehicles into the outer reaches. Already, the satellite-building colony on the moon is well under way. The progress of our space program has been accelerating month by month. The expert predictions have been more and more optimistic of late. In another ten, twenty years, the solar system will be beckoning80 the children of Earth ..."
Tom said nothing for a while. Then he cleared his throat.
"Well ... I'm no expert on these things. But maybe the population could stand a little more real estate, Mr. Andrusco. In twenty years ..."
"Nonsense!" The voice was snappish. "The best authorities say it isn't so. There's plenty of room on Earth. But if ever a mass exodus81 begins—"
"That doesn't seem possible," Tom said. "Does it? I mean, only a handful of guys have ever gone out there. A drop in the bucket. I mean, Mars and all that may be fun to visit, but who'd want to live there?"
Andrusco turned to him slowly.
"The apples in the new orchard may be sour, Mr. Blacker. But if your livelihood82 depended on your own little stack of fruit—would you be willing to sit by and take the chance?"
Tom shrugged83. "And is that the public relations job? To keep people out of space?"
"Put in its crudest form, yes."
"A pretty tough job. You know that guff about Man's Pioneering Spirit."
"Yes. But we're worried about the public spirit, Mr. Blacker. If we can dampen their ardor84 for space flight—only delay it, mind you, for another few years—we can tighten85 our own lines of economic defense86. Do I make myself clear?"
"Not completely."
"Will you take the job?"
"What does it pay?"
"Fifty thousand."
"Where do I sit?"
By the afternoon, Tom Blacker was ensconced in a fair-sized office with vaguely87 oriental furnishings and an ankle-deep rug. Livia's pretty ankles visited it first.
"Here's an outline I began on the PR program," she told him briskly, dropping a sheet of paper on his desk. "I didn't get very far with it. I'm sure you can add a lot."
"Okay. I'll read it over this afternoon." He tipped the chair back. "How about dinner tonight?"
"Sorry. Busy tonight. Maybe later this week."
But it wasn't until Friday, three days later, that he saw Livia Cord again. He accomplished88 that by calling her in for a conference, spreading his own typewritten notes on the desk in front of him.
"Got some rough ideas drafted on the program," he told her. "The possibilities of this thing are really unlimited89. Granted, of course, that there's money in this picture."
"There's money all right," Livia said. "We don't have to worry about that."
"Good. I've put down a list of leading citizens that might be enrolled90 as backers for anything we might come up with, people who have been outspoken91 about the expense or danger of space flight. We'll keep it on file, and add to it as new names crop up in the press. Then here's a listing of categories for us to develop subprograms around. Religious, economic, social, medical—Medical's good. There's a heck of a lot of scare-value in stories about cosmic rays, alien diseases, plagues, zero gravity sickness, all that sort of thing. Sterility92 is a good gimmick93; impotence is even better."
Livia smiled. "I know what you mean."
"Mmm. Come to think of it, we ought to set up a special woman's-point-of-view program, too. That'll be worth plenty. Then there's the tax question. We'll have to see what we can set up in Washington, some kind of anti-space lobby. Good feature story material here, too. You know the stuff—one space vessel94 equals the cost of two hundred country hospitals."
"Sounds great."
"We'll have to plan on press parties, special stuff for the magazines and networks. I've got a plan for some Hollywood promotion to counteract95 all this Destination Space garbage they've been turning out. And as for television—"
He talked on for another hour, feeling mounting excitement for the job he was doing. Tom wasn't sure that he liked the aims of Homelovers, Incorporated, but the challenge was enjoyable. Even at dinner that night, in Livia's snug96 apartment, he rattled97 on about the PR program until the girl began to yawn.
The bedroom was still monochrome. Only Livia had transformed it magically into powder blue. Tom slept blissfully until morning, and went into the office that weekend for sheer love of what he was doing.
After less than a month, his efforts started producing results. On a crisp December morning, he found the following in his mail:
"EARTH SONG"
A Screenplay
by
Duncan Devine
Roger Tenblade, a dashing young rocket pilot in the UN Air Force, yearns98 to join the Space Expeditionary Force now planning the first landing and colonization99 of the planet Mars. Despite the protest of his lovely fiancée, Diane, he embarks100 upon the journey. The trip is fraught101 with hazards, and the ship is struck by a meteor en route. Every member of the crew is killed, except Roger, who heroically brings the vessel back to home base. However, Roger is exposed to large amounts of cosmic radiation. When he is so informed by the medical authorities, he realizes that he can never make Diane a normal husband. So rather than return to her and ruin her life, he changes his identity and disappears to South America, where he takes a job as a shuttle pilot for a third-class airline.
Meanwhile, Diane marries Harold Farnsworth, scion102 of one of America's wealthiest families ...
Tom Blacker chuckled, and slipped the scenario103 back into the envelope. He marked the manuscript "O.K. for Production," and turned to the other mail.
There was the prospectus104 of a television series that sounded interesting. He looked it over carefully.
"CAPTAIN TERRA"
Half-hour Television Series
written by
Craig Comfort
Captain Terra, and his Earth Cadets are dedicated105 to the principle of "Earth Above All" and have sworn their lives to the preservation106 of Earth and its peoples, and to the protection of Earth against the hostile aliens constantly threatening the planet.
Program One, Act One
Bobby, Captain Terra's youthful aide, is attacked one day by a strange creature which he describes as half-man, half-snake. He reports the incident to Captain Terra, who calls a special session of his Earth Patrol to determine how best to deal with this enemy ...
Tom read the prospectus through, and then dictated107 a letter to its producers to call for an appointment.
At the bottom of the mail pile, he found an enthusiastic letter from a theatrical108 producer named Homer Bradshaw, whom he had dealt with briefly during his career at Ostreich and Company.
Dear Tom,
Great to hear about your new connection! Have a fabulous109 gimmick that ought to be right down your alley110. Am thinking of producing a new extravaganza entitled: "Be It Ever So Humble111."
This will be a real classy show, with plenty of chorus line and top gags. We plan to kid the pants off this spaceman business, until those bright boys in the glass hats cry uncle. I've already lined up James Hocum for the top banana, and Sylvia Crowe for the female lead. You know Sylvia, Tom; she'll make space flight sound about as chic112 as a debutante's ball on the Staten Island Ferry. This is the way to do the job, Tom—laugh 'em out of it.
If you're interested in a piece of this, you can always reach me at ...
He was about to call it a day at five-thirty, when he got a visiphone call from John Andrusco. When he walked into the immense office at the other end of the floor, he saw a glassy-eyed man standing113 at Andrusco's desk, twirling his hat with nervous fingers.
"Tom," Andrusco said cheerfully, "want you to meet somebody. This is Sergeant114 Walt Spencer, formerly115 of the UN Space Commission."
Tom shook the man's hand, and he could feel it trembling in his own.
"I called Walt in here specially116, thanks to that memo117 you sent me, Tom. Great idea of yours, about talking to some of the boys who've actually been in space. Walter here's willing to cooperate a hundred percent."
"That's fine," Tom said uneasily.
"Thought you two ought to get together," Andrusco said, reaching for his hat. "Think he can help a lot, Tom. Talk it over."
"Well—suppose we have a drink, Sergeant? That fit your plans all right?"
"Suits me," the man said, without emotion.
They went down in the elevator together, and slid into a red-leather booth in the Tuscany Bar in the base of the building. The sergeant ordered a double Scotch118, and gulped it with the same respect you give water.
"So you've been in space," Tom said, looking at him curiously119. "Must have been quite an experience."
"Yeah."
"Er—I take it you've left the service."
"Yeah."
Tom frowned, and sipped120 his martini. "How many trips did you make, Sergeant?"
"Just one. Reconnaissance Moon Flight Four. About six years ago. You must have read about it."
"Yes," Tom said. "Sorry."
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ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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projector
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| n.投影机，放映机，幻灯机 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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sensuously
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| adv.感觉上 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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epic
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| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
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gargantuan
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| adj.巨大的，庞大的 | |
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scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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industrialists
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| n.工业家，实业家( industrialist的名词复数 ) | |
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carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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leopard
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| n.豹 | |
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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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stomped
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| v.跺脚，践踏，重踏( stomp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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intersections
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battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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beetling
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| adj.突出的，悬垂的v.快速移动( beetle的现在分词 ) | |
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shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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commissioner
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gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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stunt
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| n.惊人表演，绝技，特技；vt.阻碍...发育，妨碍...生长 | |
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ordinances
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statutes
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| 成文法( statute的名词复数 )； 法令； 法规； 章程 | |
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35
indictments
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| n.（制度、社会等的）衰败迹象( indictment的名词复数 )；刑事起诉书；公诉书；控告 | |
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36
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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37
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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gnats
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| n.叮人小虫( gnat的名词复数 ) | |
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incompatible
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| adj.不相容的，不协调的，不相配的 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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41
cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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42
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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tantalizing
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| adj.逗人的；惹弄人的；撩人的；煽情的v.逗弄，引诱，折磨( tantalize的现在分词 ) | |
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46
slashes
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| n.（用刀等）砍( slash的名词复数 )；（长而窄的）伤口；斜杠；撒尿v.挥砍( slash的第三人称单数 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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canine
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| adj.犬的，犬科的 | |
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49
bail
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| v.舀（水），保释；n.保证金，保释，保释人 | |
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50
bailing
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| （凿井时用吊桶）排水 | |
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51
fracas
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| n.打架；吵闹 | |
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52
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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53
tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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squinted
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| 斜视( squint的过去式和过去分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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slits
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| n.狭长的口子，裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开，撕开( slit的第三人称单数 )；在…上开狭长口子 | |
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58
nucleus
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| n.核，核心，原子核 | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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62
lipstick
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| n.口红，唇膏 | |
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63
erased
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| v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；清除 | |
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cylindrical
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| adj.圆筒形的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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plowed
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| v.耕( plow的过去式和过去分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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toupee
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| n.假发 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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72
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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deteriorates
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| 恶化，变坏( deteriorate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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77
premium
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| n.加付款；赠品；adj.高级的；售价高的 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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80
beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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81
exodus
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| v.大批离去，成群外出 | |
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82
livelihood
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| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
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83
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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84
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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85
tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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86
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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87
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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88
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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89
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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91
outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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92
sterility
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| n.不生育，不结果，贫瘠，消毒，无菌 | |
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93
gimmick
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| n.(为引人注意而搞的)小革新，小发明 | |
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94
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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95
counteract
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| vt.对…起反作用，对抗，抵消 | |
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96
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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98
yearns
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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colonization
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| 殖民地的开拓，殖民，殖民地化； 移殖 | |
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100
embarks
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| 乘船( embark的第三人称单数 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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101
fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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102
scion
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| n.嫩芽，子孙 | |
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103
scenario
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| n.剧本，脚本；概要 | |
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104
prospectus
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| n.计划书；说明书；慕股书 | |
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105
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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106
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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107
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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108
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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109
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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110
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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111
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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112
chic
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| n./adj.别致(的)，时髦(的)，讲究的 | |
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113
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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114
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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115
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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116
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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117
memo
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| n.照会，备忘录；便笺；通知书；规章 | |
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118
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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119
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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120
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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