You don't need me to explain the luck, I guess. The WPA concrete I checked out for myself. I invested some time and a couple of stamps and wrote first to the University of Maine History Department and then to a fellow whose address they were able to give me. This fellow had been foreman of the WPA project that built the Shawshank Max Security Wing.
The wing, which contains Cellblocks 3,4, and 5, was built in the years 1934-37. Now, most people don't think of cement and concrete as 'technological developments', the way we think of cars and oil furnaces and rocket-ships, but they really are. There was no modern cement until 1870 or so, and no modern concrete until after the turn of the century. Mixing concrete is as delicate a business as making bread. You can get it too watery or not watery enough. You can get the sand-mix too thick or too thin, and the same is true of the gravel-mix. And back in 1934, the science of mixing the stuff was a lot less sophisticated than it is today.
The walls of Cellblock 5 were solid enough, but they weren't exactly dry and toasty. As a matter of fact, they were and are pretty damned dank. After a long wet spell they would sweat and sometimes even drip. Cracks had a way of appearing, some an inch deep, and were routinely mortared over.
Now here comes Andy Dufresne into Cellblock 5. He's a man who graduated from the University of Maine's school of business, but he's also a man who took two or three geology courses along the way. Geology had, in fact, become his chief hobby. I imagine it appealed to his patient, meticulous nature. A ten-thousand-year ice age here.
A million years of mountain-building there. Tectonic plates grinding against each other deep under the earth's skin over the millennia. Pressure. Andy told me once that all of geology is the study of pressure.
And time, of course.
He had time to study those walls. Plenty of time. When the cell door slams and the lights go out, there's nothing else to look at.
First-timers usually had a hard time adjusting to the confinement of prison life. They get screw-fever, they have to be hauled down to the infirmary and sedated couple of times before they get on the beam. It's not unusual to hear some new member of our happy little family bang on the bars of his cell and screaming to be let out ... before the cries have gone on for long, the chant starts up along the cellblock: 'Fresh fish, hey little fishie, fresh fish, fresh fish, got fresh fish today!'
Andy didn't flip out like that when he came to the Shank 1948, but that's not to say that he didn't feel many of same things. He may have come close to madness; some and some go sailing right over the edge. Old life blown away in the wink of an eye, indeterminate nightmare stretching out ahead, a long season in hell.
So what did he do, I ask you? He searched almost desperately for something to divert his restless mind. Oh there are all sorts of ways to divert yourself, even in prison; it seems like the human mind is full of an infinite number of possibilities when it comes to diversion. I told you about the sculptor and his Three Ages of Jesus. There were coin collectors who were always losing their collections to thieves, stamp collectors, one fellow who had postcards from thirty-five different countries - and let me tell you, he would have turned out your lights if he'd caught you diddling with his postcards.
Andy got interested in rocks. And the walls of his cell.
I think that his initial intention might have been to do no more than to carve his initials into the wall where the poster of Rita Hayworth would soon be hanging. His initials, or maybe a few lines from some poem. Instead, what he found was that interestingly weak concrete. Maybe he started to carve his initials and a big chunk of the wall fell out I can see him, lying there on his bunk, looking at that broken chunk of concrete, turning it over in his hands. Never mind the wreck of your whole life, never mind that you got railroaded into this place by a whole trainload of bad luck. Let's forget all that and look at this piece of concrete.
Some months further along he might have decided it would be fun to see how much of that wall he could take out. But you can't just start digging into your wall and then, when the weekly inspection (or one of the surprise inspections that are always turning up interesting caches of booze, drugs, dirty pictures, and weapons) comes around, say to the guard: This? Just excavating a little hole in my cell wall. Not to worry, my good man.'
No, he couldn't have that. So he came to me and asked if I could get him a Rita Hayworth poster. Not a little one but a big one.
And, of course, he had the rock-hammer. I remember thinking when I got him that gadget back in '48 that it would take a man six hundred years to burrow through the wall with it. True enough. But Andy went right through the wall -even with the soft concrete, it took him two rock-hammers and twenty-seven years to hack a hole big enough to get his slim body through four feet of it.
Of course he lost most of one of those years to Normaden, and he could only work at night, preferably late at night, when almost everybody is asleep - including the guards who work the night shift. But I suspect the thing which slowed him down the most was getting rid of the wall as he took it out. He could muffle the sound of his work by wrapping the head of his hammer in rock-polishing cloths, but what to do with the pulverized concrete and the occasional chunks that came out whole?
I think he must have broken up the chunks into pebbles and...
I remembered the Sunday after I had gotten him the rock-hammer. I remember watching him walk across the exercise yard, his face puffy from his latest go-round with the sisters. I saw him stoop, pick up a pebble ... and it disappeared up his sleeve. That inside sleeve-pocket is an old prison trick. Up your sleeve or just inside the cuff of your pants. And I have another memory, very strong but unfocused, maybe something I saw more than once. This memory is of Andy Dufresne walking across the exercise yard on a hot summer day when the air was utterly still. Still, yeah ... except for the little breeze that seemed to be blowing sand around Andy Dufresne's feet.
So maybe he had a couple of cheaters in his pants below the knees. You loaded the cheaters up with fill and then just strolled around, your hands in your pockets, and when you feel safe and unobserved, you gave the pockets a little twitch. The pockets, of course, are attached by string or strong thread to the cheaters. The fill goes cascading out of your pantslegs as you walk. The World War II POWS who were trying to tunnel out used the dodge.


　　关于幸运之神眷顾，我猜完全用不着解释了。至于WPA混凝土，我倒是好好查了一下资料。我花了不少时间，也花了不少邮资。我先写信给缅因大学历史系，他们给了我某人的地址，我又写信给那个家伙，他曾经参与WPA工程，同时参与建造肖申克监狱警卫最森严的区域，而且还担任工头。
　　位于这个区域的第三、四、五区牢房是在一九三四到一九三七年间建造完成的。今天，大多数人并不认为水泥和混凝土是什么了不起的“技术发展”，就好像我们现在也不认为汽车或暖炉算什么了不起的技术进步一样，但其实不然。现代的水泥直到一八七〇年左右才发展出来，而混凝土更是到二十世纪初才出现。调混凝土的过程就和做面包一样细腻，可能会放了太多水或水放得不够，沙子和碎石的成分也可能太稠或太稀。而在一九三四年，混凝土的科学远不如今天这么进步。
　　从外表看来，第五区牢房的墙壁很坚实，但是却不够干，事实上，这些混凝土墙还满容易透水的。经过一段阴雨连绵的日子，这些墙就变得很潮湿，甚至会渗出水来。有些地方已出现龟裂，有些裂痕甚至深达一英寸。他们会定期涂抹砂浆，黏合裂缝。
　　后来安迪被关进第五区牢房。他毕业于缅因大学商学院，修过两三门地质学的课，事实上，地质学成为他的一大嗜好，一定是因为非常合乎他极有耐性、一丝不苟的本性。一万年的冰河期、百万年的造山运动、千年床岩在地层底部相互挤压。“压力，”安迪有一次告诉我，“所有的地质学都是在研究压力。”
　　当然，还有时间这个因素。
　　安迪有很多时间可以研究这些墙。当囚门关上、灯也熄灭之后，除了那堵灰墙，没有其他东西可以看。
　　初进监狱的人起初都难以适应这种失去自由的生活，他们会得一种囚犯热，有些人甚至得被拖进医务室施打镇静剂。常会听到新进犯人猛力敲打铁栅栏，大吼大叫着要出去，喊叫声没有持续多久，就会响起其他犯人的唱和声：“鲜鱼来了，鲜鱼来了，嘿，小小的鲜鱼，今天有鲜鱼进来了！”
　　一九四八年，安迪初入狱时并没有这种失控的表现，但这并不表示他没有同样的感觉。他或许也曾濒临疯狂边缘。一瞬间，一向熟悉的快乐生活就不见了，眼前是漫长的梦魇，就像置身炼狱。
　　那么，他要怎么办呢？我问你。他一定努力找一些事情来做，让自己不再胡思乱想。噢，即使在监狱里，让人分心的方法仍然很多。人类的潜能是无穷的，像我曾经告诉过你的，有个犯人雕刻了耶稣的三个时期，有的犯人收集钱币，有的人集邮，还有人收集到三十五个国家的明信片。
　　安迪对石头有兴趣，连带的也对牢房的墙产生兴趣。
　　我想他最初的想法只是把名字刻在墙上，或是在后来贴美女海报的墙面上，刻几行诗来鼓舞自己。哪晓得竟然发现这堵混凝土墙意外的松动，只刻了几个字，便落下一大块。我可以想象他躺在床上，手里把玩着混凝土块，看着这块剥落的混凝土沉思。不要老想着自己一生都毁了，不要老想着自己怎么会这么倒霉。把那些全都忘掉，好好看看这块混凝土吧！
　　很可能，之后的几个月，他觉得试试看自己能把这堵墙挖开多少，应该还满有趣的。他当然不能这么堂而皇之地挖墙壁，你总不能在警卫每周定期检查时（或是突袭检查时，他们每次总是会翻出一些有趣的东西，例如酒、毒品、色情图片和武器等），对他说：“这个？只不过在墙上挖个小洞而已，没什么好担心的。”
　　不，安迪不能这样做，于是他想到托我买丽塔·海华丝的海报，他不要小张的，而要大张的。
　　当然，还有他的石锤。我记得一九四八年替他弄到那个小锤子的时候，曾经想过如果要用这把锤子挖穿监狱的墙壁，大概要花六百年的工夫。没错，但是安迪其实只需要挖穿一半的墙壁——但即使混凝土墙非常松软，他用两把锤子，仍然努力了二十七年才成功。
　　当然，期间因为跟诺曼登同住而浪费了不少时间。他只能晚上工作，而且是在三更半夜大家都睡熟了之后，包括值夜班的警卫也进入梦乡后。然而拖慢速度的最大难题，还是如何处理敲下来的混凝土块。他可以把磨石布包住锤头来消音，但是敲下来的碎片要怎么处理呢？
　　我想他一定把混凝土块弄成很小的碎片，然后装在袖子里运出去。
　　我还记得在我帮他弄到石锤后，星期天的时候，我看着他走过运动场，因为和姊妹的冲突而鼻青眼肿的。他弯下腰来，捡起小石子……然后小石子就消失在他的袖口。袖口或裤脚翻边的暗袋是监狱里的老把戏。还有另外一件事让我记忆深刻，可能看过不止一次，就是安迪在炎夏午后窒闷的空气中穿过运动场，没错，空气十分窒闷，除了偶有一阵微风吹过，掀起安迪脚下飞扬的尘土。
　　所以，可能他的裤脚还藏着不少花样。你把暗袋装满要丢掉的小碎片，然后到处走动，手一直插在裤袋中，然后当你觉得很安全时，就趁人不注意猛拉暗袋。当然裤袋里一定有一条很坚韧的线连到裤脚的暗袋。于是你一边走动，口袋里的碎片沙砾就在双脚间倾泻而下，第二次大战的战俘挖掘隧道逃跑时，就用过这招妙计。