"Good God, aren't they starting a little early this year?" Bert Hillary, who shared Wheatley's office, was obviously not expecting an answer. He had been making it clear for the past hour (they had all got to their desks an hour earlier for this day) that he was an old hand, while this was Glen's first experience of People's Day.
Glen knew that Hillary had been in the Civil Service only five or six years. He himself could hardly be accused of being an expert on the every-four-years Day. Still, he waited for the older man to make the first move.
Hillary got up and peered cautiously out the shattered window. "Yeah, they're already boiling around the outer wall like yeast2 in a vat3. That guy with the brick must have quite a pitching arm." Sweat stood out on his forehead. He was clearly much more frightened than he pretended to be.
Glen noticed this with some satisfaction. At least, he wasn't the only one. "Come on, Wheatley. Us lower-level boys have got to be on the hop4. You'd be surprised how fast that mob can get up here."
Glen unfolded the map of Government House that had been placed on his desk that morning. He stared grimly at it, dabbing5 at his cheek with a rather grubby handkerchief meanwhile. The bleeding did not show any signs of stopping.
Hillary hurried to the door. "Come on!" He was openly nervous now. "It's no good studying that map for safety-holes now. You should have been doing that ever since we got here this morning."
As a matter of fact, Glen had been doing just that, whenever Hillary's flow of words had momentarily run dry. But he had not yet got the location of all the nearby hidden cubbies clearly in his mind. "Government House is such a maze," he said defensively.
"And we're damned lucky it is," Hillary said from the doorway6. "Anyway, how do you know that map you've got there isn't just what they've been hawking7 in People's Square all this past week?" He gave a slightly sick leer.
"You know those maps are inaccurate8. They're just a sop9, just to give the mob an extra thrill. Government House plants most of them." He could sound like an old hand, too, Glen thought with a certain smugness.
"Nuts to that. Some of them are amazingly accurate. There are a hell of a lot of non-Government people in here from year to year, and some of them aren't here just on business. Let's get going." Hillary pulled Glen through the door, and then locked it. Glen raised his eyebrows10 at this. "Oh, sure," his co-worker said wryly11. "Gives the People something to work off steam on." He patted the flimsy door. "This will cave in under a few hard shoulders. Not like the safety-hole panels. We hope."
"But they don't unlock for another half hour in this area."
"Thirty-eight minutes, to be exact," Hillary said, glancing at his watch. "And of course the ones deeper in and higher up open even later. We're supposed to give them a run for their taxes."
The corridor was emptying out rapidly. Glen could hear smashing noises from the ground floor.
Apparently12 the People were already in the building, beginning their day of destruction. He thought gratefully of his private apartment, tucked away in the impregnable heart of Government House. Of course, it was closed off to him too on this day; but at least it was safe from the mob. They would get mainly the chaff13 to destroy.
"I'm heading for the upper levels," Hillary said. "Even if the safeties open later up there, it takes longer for the mob to penetrate14. There's enough breakable and burnable stuff at the first few levels to keep them busy for a while. Coming?"
Glen had just seen Joan Bourne emerge from her office and lock the door. He headed toward her. "I'm going to stay near some out-of-the-way safety in this area and hop in when it first opens. I don't feel like running from the People," he called back with a bravado15 he did not really feel.
"Suit yourself." Hillary was already at the stairs. He paused for a moment. "And good luck."
"Thanks," Glen said. "Good hiding."
Joan had been listening, and met him in the middle of the corridor. "I think you've got the right idea, Glen. Want some company?"
He smiled, and brushed her cheek with his lips. "You know the answer to that, Joan. For life."
"This is hardly the day to bring that up again." She took his arm, and they turned off down a side corridor. "Besides, I thought our relationship was very nice as it is," she pouted16.
"It is. I'm just greedy."
The side passageway took them deeper into the labyrinth17 that was Government House. Glen had hardly ever been out of it. He had been born and brought up in the great central area that surrounded Government Park, now sealed off from both the People and the Civil Servants. Apart from a vacation trip to another city's Government House, this had been Glen's entire world. And two years ago he had passed the Examinations and become a full-fledged CS, with all the privileges—and perils18, he was now realizing—that that entailed19.
They turned into another corridor, went past a bank of elevators—turned off for the day, as all the elevators were in the official section of the building—and went up a long flight of stairs.
Glen stopped at the third level.
"This looks like as good a spot as any to wait for the first safety-holes to open. It's out of the way. And there's a hole right here, according to the map. It'll be opening in twenty minutes. The mob should be busy down there for longer than that." They located the almost invisible key square, and Glen pressed his Class-6 key to it. "Just on the chance they might have given us a break," he said half apologetically.
"Apparently they haven't," Joan murmured. "Let's see if my Class-5 has any better luck." She pressed her own key to the square, but the panel still refused to slide back. Class-5 shelters in this area were often combined with those for Class-6.
Glen looked at her quizzically. "Joan, we graduated at the same time, and you're already Class-5—Job Consultation20—while I'm still Class-6—Secondary School Allocation. How do you do it?"
"Brains, personality and talent. Hadn't you noticed?" She pressed close to him.
He kissed her. "Mmm, yes. But I still don't see...."
"You seem so different from the other girls here though, Joan." He blushed. "You didn't happen to come from ... Outside. Er ... from the People, that is?"
"I grew up in Block 6, Section A, overlooking the statue of Martyr22 Sherman Adams in Government Park. Just two blocks down from you, if I remember your records correctly."
"You've had access to my records?"
"Class-5 always does to Class-6's. And I took a special interest in you, my dear." She stroked his cheek.
"Then you're forgiven the snooping," Glen smiled. "But to think I was being so polite and discreet23 about asking your origins!"
"Not many take the Exams and come to Civil Service from Outside any more, sweet. Just as not many from here decide to go out and try their luck in the big world. Generally we stay on our side of the fence, and they stay on theirs. Except for the Day, of course. And then it's all one-way traffic."
"But I've heard some CS people go Outside for their vacation. I never have, of course, but...."
"Oh, yes, quite a few do. You're taken in a CS plane to another Government House, where you won't be known in the city outside. You are given appropriate papers and emerge from the House during business hours. You mingle24 with the People, just like one of them. And when vacation's over, back to the House for Job Consultation or Welfare Benefits or whatever you want to trump25 up. Show your true papers, and you're whisked back to your own cozy26 womb." She smiled reminiscently. "Outside is an interesting experience."
This annoyed Glen obscurely. He put his arm around her. "I don't want you going Outside again. At least, not without me."
"Oh, the People are just people. Except for today...."
"Well, well, the Bourne from which no traveler returneth! Hope I'm not interrupting anything, my dear. Anything important, that is." At this unexpected voice, Glen let go of Joan and spun28 to face the intruder. It was a Class-2 High Official named Duckpath, whom he had heard speak at a few Government banquets. He dropped his fists, which he had unconsciously raised.
"Mustn't be so nervous, young man," Duckpath said, swaying slightly. He was obviously quite drunk. "How are you, Joanie?" He patted her rump affectionately and gave her a smacking29 kiss. Joan looked both annoyed and amused. Glen flushed, but said nothing.
After a moment of contemplating30 the new arrival, Joan said, "Well, Ducks, what brings you down to the lower echelons31?"
"Oh, pleasure, pleasure, my dear. Wanted to see all the fun and games. Usually pretty dull on top, you know." He winked32 at her, then cocked an ear. "Sounds like the rabble33 are getting warmer, too."
Glen listened, and realized he had been hearing all along a dim muttering which was now clearly getting louder. A distinct crash sounded, and he was sure he smelled smoke.
"Young man, you are obstreperous35, aren't you?" Duckpath interposed himself between Glen and Joan. "Be calm, be calm. As you may know, my key will open any of the lower echelon's shelters, and at any time. Yours is not due to open for five minutes yet, for example, but at the touch of this—" he flashed his Class-2 key—"all barriers will fall before us. And I like the scent27 of danger. Just the scent, of course. Now—" he motioned to Glen—"if you will just stand by that stairway, you will be able to see them in plenty of time for us all to get into shelter. You two shall be my guests. It will be very cozy." He giggled36.
It was true that the stairs were the obvious place for the onslaught. They led both up and down. He assumed Duckpath had come down them, but of course the People were still below, although apparently working their way rapidly to the stairs. The only other way up to this area was through one of the secret passageways, which the mob would not know about.
Another crash echoed up the stairwell, much louder this time. A wisp of smoke curled lazily in the air in front of him.
Glen fingered the caked blood on his cheek. Things he had never questioned before seemed utterly38 meaningless and cruel now. His irritation39 with Duckpath bubbled over, and he said sourly, "What madness! This whole procedure is incredibly stupid and wasteful40."
Joan glanced at Duckpath with raised eyebrows, but said nothing. That gentleman at first stiffened41, then relaxed and said blandly42, "I wouldn't criticize the Government too much, my boy. It gives us all we have. And it can take it away also." He smiled. "This is not madness, but sheer sanity43. You must have been neglecting your Political Science courses."
"Sanity! It's murder and destruction," Glen muttered.
"You know very well, young man, that all that is being destroyed is easily replaced. Will be replaced tomorrow, in fact. Ours is an opulent, productive society." Duckpath's smile deepened into a smirk44. "All the important documents, all the valuables, are safely locked away in the central section. And the good that is being done today!" He became rapturous. "The People are led by us, led by the nose. We decide where they will go to school, where they will live, which job they will get, how many children they may have. Soon we will decide when they are to die. We have the power." His eyes glistened45.
"And in return we give them security. The population is balanced, the country productive, the old cared for; there is medical service for all. Everything is arranged for the best by the great complex of Government Houses all over the world. Everything is in the hands of the Government." Duckpath was panting slightly. "Everything is in our hands."
"If everything is so perfect, why this?" Glen gestured toward the cloud of smoke seeping46 through the entrance to the stairway.
"It's only the office furnishings. The building itself won't burn," Joan murmured.
Duckpath gave her a little squeeze. "Our callow young friend is talking about the hatred47, I believe, Joanie. The urge of the People to destroy and kill. Well, it is only natural." He belched48 softly. "These People are aware that their lives are woven from threads held in Government House. And though they are well cared for, they resent it. They resent having to file into this building and be allocated49 to this and that. They want someone to take care of them, but they resent their loss of freedom. They resent our power.
"So this is their day. It comes once every four years. The day that gives them the illusion that they have some control over us, the day of Mob Rule. This is the day they can express all their locked-up frustrations50, all their fury at the State which feeds and clothes them and watches over them. They can batter51 down and smash and burn." Duckpath stared at Glen and seemed to sober a little. "Yes, they can even kill. They cannot bring guns or knives here, but they can use fire and fists and stones. And that is even better for boiling away their hostilities52. The hotheads among the People will go so far as to kill, and that will cool them. But they will get only the fumble-fingered and feeble-witted. The rest will take care of themselves." He paused for a moment, breathless. "Do you realize we haven't had even the sniff53 of a revolution in four hundred years? No civil strife54 at all. No change of any kind." He laughed. "This is Sheep's Day ... their day to be wolves."
Glen started. Duckpath's harangue56 had distracted him, and somehow chilled him too. He peered down the stairwell. There were People at the end of the lower corridor, milling around and shouting.
"We've got to get to shelter," he said, hurrying toward Joan.
Duckpath began to talk again. "This is nothing new. The Romans had a word for it, and a day for it, too. A day when the laws were abandoned and society was turned upside down. A day when the people cast off the bonds of civilization and order. A day of Misrule. They even had a King of Misrule. I rather like that. I might be such a King." He struck a pose. "King of Misrule!" He turned with a grand gesture to Joan. "And you are my...."
A rock crashed against the side of his head. Another exploded on the wall next to Glen.
"The secret passageways, Glen!" Joan screamed. "They've come up the other way. The maps must have been accurate this time."
There was a knot of men at the far bend of the corridor. They carried torches, and clumps57 of stones in sacks at their waists. Obviously they were not the dilettantes of People's Day. They were after more than the crash of furniture.
"Get the dame58, boys!" one of them yelled. They charged forward. Duckpath was lying across the entrance to the shelter, and the mob was almost on him.
"His key, his key!" She knelt beside Duckpath and pulled the key out of his hand. The High Official stirred, but did not speak. An amazing amount of blood had already accumulated on the floor around him.
A brick grazed Glen's shoulder, sending him spinning toward the stairway. Joan rushed after him, and they pounded the stairs together. "I can get in anywhere with this," she gasped60, holding up the key.
Presumably the half-conscious Duckpath had made the oncoming men pause. Ripping sounds could be heard, and a horrible strangled cry. They were relieving the High Official of his personal belongings—and probably of his life.
But the People from the floor below were now surging up the stairs, joined by four men from the crowd that had first seen Joan. "Get the dame! Government meat!" The cry came booming up to Glen and Joan.
They stumbled into the corridor at the next landing, realizing they would never make it up the next flight before the mob reached them. They were both fumbling with their maps. "There's a small Class-3 right around here," Joan waved her map in his face. She raced along the wall for a few yards and then clapped Duckpath's key to it. A panel slid back and she slipped inside. "Thank God!" She glanced around her. "Darling, it's only a single. Too bad."
There was obviously no room for another person, Glen saw with dismay. Joan and the air-freshening apparatus61 took up all the space.
"Hurry and find another, sweets." She pitched him the Class-2 key, and blew him a kiss as the door slid shut. It would open again only after sundown, when People's Day was officially over.
A mass of screaming People burst from the stairway, and raised a great shout on seeing Glen. He dashed down the corridor, turned left, and then turned right at the next passageway. He was in a long corridor ending in a large window opening on the outside.
Glen squinted62 at his map through eyes that refused to focus. He suddenly realized they were streaming with tears.
There was a Class-4 shelter several paces along on the left. He rushed to it and pressed the High Official's key to the square. A dim red light glowed through the plastic of the key. Full.
He pounded on the panel. Of course it was soundproof. Of course the shelter was full of wise Civil Servants. Only the fumble-fingered and the feeble-witted, only the chaff....
The People came pouring around the corner as Glen backed toward the end of the corridor. A stone sang past him and smashed through the window. Another caught him in the ribs63. He backed faster, now completely blinded by tears. The growl64 of hatred from the mob grew louder. A heavy blow struck his collarbone and he lurched backward. His knees caught, and then he was flipping65 over. Out and down.
He sailed through the air.
The pressure of the mob was gone. There was no time to think. There was just an exhilarating sense of flight, of space, of freedom.
The End
The End
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收听单词发音
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1
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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yeast
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| n.酵母；酵母片；泡沫；v.发酵；起泡沫 | |
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vat
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| n.(=value added tax)增值税，大桶 | |
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4
hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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dabbing
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| 石面凿毛，灰泥抛毛 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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hawking
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| 利用鹰行猎 | |
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inaccurate
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| adj.错误的，不正确的，不准确的 | |
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sop
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| n.湿透的东西，懦夫；v.浸，泡，浸湿 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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wryly
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| adv. 挖苦地，嘲弄地 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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pouted
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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trump
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| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
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cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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31
echelons
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| n.（机构中的）等级，阶层( echelon的名词复数 )；（军舰、士兵、飞机等的）梯形编队 | |
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32
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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obstreperous
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| adj.喧闹的，不守秩序的 | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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wasteful
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| adj.（造成）浪费的，挥霍的 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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smirk
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| n.得意地笑；v.傻笑；假笑着说 | |
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45
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
seeping
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| v.（液体）渗( seep的现在分词 )；渗透；渗出；漏出 | |
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47
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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48
belched
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| v.打嗝( belch的过去式和过去分词 )；喷出，吐出；打（嗝）；嗳（气） | |
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allocated
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| adj. 分配的 动词allocate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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frustrations
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| 挫折( frustration的名词复数 )； 失败； 挫败； 失意 | |
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51
batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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52
hostilities
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| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
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53
sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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54
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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55
taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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56
harangue
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| n.慷慨冗长的训话，言辞激烈的讲话 | |
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57
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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58
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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59
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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60
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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61
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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62
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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63
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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64
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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65
flipping
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| 讨厌之极的 | |
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