But there was. The knob rattled48, turned, the door opened, and a black-haired young man in white coveralls looked out; in red stitching over a breast pocket it said Don, and he had a copy of Sports Illustrated49 in one hand. He said, "Hi; come on in. Boy, what a lousy day," and I walked in past him. As he closed the door I read, BEEKEY BROTHERS, MOVERS, in red block-letters across his back. We were in a windowless fluorescent-lighted office no more than ten feet square, furnished with a desk, swivel chair, and a couple of yellow-oak straight chairs with most of the varnish50 worn off. On the wall hung a Beekey Brothers calendar and a lot of framed photographs of smiling crews posed alongside Beekey vans. "Yeah?" said the man in coveralls, sitting down behind his desk. "What can we do for you? Moving? Storage?" I said I'd come to see Rube Prien, half expecting him to look blank, but he asked my name, then dialed a phone, gesturing with his chin toward a couple of hooks on the wall. "Hang up your hat and coat," he said to me, then into the phone, "Mr. Morley to see Mr. Prien." He listened, said, "Right," and hung up. "Be down in a minute; make yourself at home." He lay back in his swivel chair and began reading his magazine. I sat there trying to wonder what was going to happen now, but there was nothing for my mind to work on, and I found myself examining the framed photographs: one of them, inscribed51 "The Gang," 1921, in white ink, showed a Beekey van, an old Mack truck with metal-spoke wheels and solid rubber tires; half the crew wore big mustaches. There was a click from a door set flush in the wall at my right. I looked up as it swung open, noticing that there was no knob on this side. Rube stood holding the door open behind him with a foot. He was wearing clean wash pants and a short-sleeved white shirt open at the neck; his forearms were fuzzy with red hair and were as large as my biceps and more muscular. "Well, I see you found us." He put out his hand. "Welcome, Si. Glad to see you." "Thanks. Yeah, I found it. In spite of the disguise." "Oh, we're not really disguised." He beckoned52 me in, then let the door swing closed behind us; it made a quiet heavy thunk, and I realized it was painted metal. We were standing53 in a little concrete-floored hallway badly lighted by a bare bulb in a wire cage in the ceiling. A pair of green-enameled elevator doors faced us, and Rube reached past me to poke6 the button. "Actually the building is the way it's been for years. On the outside. Up to ten months ago this was a genuine moving-and-storage business, a family corporation. We bought it, and we still do some moving and a little storage in a walled-off section of the building; enough to maintain the pose." The elevator doors slid open, we stepped in, and Rube pressed 6. The only other visible button said 1; the other buttons were taped over with dirty adhesive54. "The older employees were pensioned off, the others gradually replaced by our people; I was 'hired' and actually worked as a moving man for a month. Damn near killed me." Rube smiled; that nice genuine smile you couldn't help responding to. "Now our estimates tend to be a little high; notmuch, just a little. And the business generally goes to a competitor. We look busy as ever, though. In fact, we are. We've even added two new vans. One hell of a lot of stuff has been moved out of here in our own closed vans; the entire interior of the building, in fact. And I guess we've brought even more stuff in." The green doors slid open, and we stepped out onto a floor of offices. You could smell the newness, and it looked like a floor in any modern office building: polished vinyl-tiled corridors under a string of skylights; beige-painted walls with stenciled black arrows indicating groups of office numbers; looped fire hoses behind glass; occasional drinking fountains; numbered flush doors each with a black-and-white plastic name-plate fastened to the wall beside it. Far ahead, as we turned toward her, a girl in a white blouse and dark skirt, her face indistinguishable, walked toward us carrying a stack of papers in one arm; she turned into an office before reaching us. As we passed them I glanced at the plastic nameplates for some sort of clue, but they were only meaningless names: W.W. O'NEIL; V. ZAHLIAN; MISS K. VEACH.... Rube gestured at a door just ahead; the plastic wall sign beside it said PERSONNEL. "We have to get this over first; withholding55 forms, Blue Cross, insurance, the works. Even we don't escape this stuff." He opened the door, gesturing me in first, and we stepped into a little anteroom half filled by a desk at which a girl sat typing. "Rose, this is Simon Morley, a new hand. Si, Rose Macabee." We said how-do-you-do, and Rube said, "How long will you need, Rose? Half hour?" She said about twenty-five minutes, and Rube said he'd be back for me then, and left. "In here, please, Mr. Morley." The girl opened the door and led the way into an ordinary office, window-less and bare-looking, lighted by a large skylight. "Will you sit down, please?" I walked to the flat-topped desk and sat down in a swivel desk-chair. "The forms should be in here." She opened a drawer of the desk and brought out a little sheaf of six or eight printed forms of different colors and sizes clipped together. She pulled off the clip and spread them under my desk lamp, turning on the lamp with the other hand. "They're all here. Just fill in the blanks, Mr. Morley; do this long one first. Here's a pen." She handed me a ball-point pen. "It shouldn't take long. Call me if you have any questions." She nodded at a small table beside my chair; the top was an intricate pattern of inlaid wood about a foot square, just large enough for the white phone it held. She smiled and walked out, closing the door. Pen in hand, I sat looking around the room for a moment or so. A green filing cabinet stood on the wall opposite me; a mirror hung on the wall behind me; on the wall to my right beside the door was a small framed picture, a watercolor of a covered bridge, not bad work but pretty standard. That was all there was to see, and I looked down at the papers spread out under the desk lamp; they were withholding-tax forms, hospitalization, and the like. I pulled the long one to me—it was headed "Personnel Fact Sheet"—and began filling it out. In the first blanks I wrote my name; place of birth, Gary, Indiana; date of birth, March 11, 1942; wondering if anyone ever looked at these things. The phone on the little table at my elbow rang, and I swung around in my chair, picked it up, and an actual physical sensation of coldness moved up my spine56 because the phone was green. It had been white, I was certain of that, but now it was green. I said, "Hello?" "Mr. Prien is back for you, Mr. Morley. Are you nearly finished?""Finished? I just started." There was a moment's pause. "Just started? Mr. Morley, you've been at it"—there was a pause as though she might be consulting a watch—"over twenty minutes.'' I didn't know what to say to her. "You've made a mistake, Miss Macabee; I've barely begun." I could detect the repressed annoyance57 in her voice. "Well, please finish up as quickly as you can, Mr. Morley. Mr. Prien has made an appointment with the director." She clicked off, and I slowly hung up the phone; could I possibly have drifted off into a daydream58 twenty minutes long? I turned back to the form I'd been filling out, then actually jumped to my feet in panic, my chair skidding back and banging the wall. There in the blanks under my name, birthplace, and date of birth were written my father's name, Earl Gavin Morley; his birthplace and date of birth, Muncie, Indiana, 1908; my mother's maiden59 name, Strong; my hobbies, sketching60 and photography; and my entire history of employment beginning with Neff Carter in Buffalo61. All the other forms were filled out, too: every one of them, just like this, in my own unmistakable handwriting. It was impossible for me to have done this without knowing it, but there it was. It wasn't possible that twenty minutes had passed, but they must have. And the white phone—I glanced at it again—was still green. The hair on the back of my neck was prickling, trying to stand erect62, and the fear in my stomach was like a clenching63 fist. Then it stopped. I had not filled out these forms, and I knew it. I'd been in this room no more than three or four minutes at most, and I knew that, too. My eyes were narrowed, I stood staring out across the desk top thinking, then I saw the watercolor on the wall. The covered bridge was gone; now it was a pine-covered snow-capped mountain, and I laughed aloud, the fear instantly shrinking to nothing. The door opened, and Rube Prien walked in. "All finished? What's the matter?" "Rube, what in the hell do you think you're doing?" I stood grinning at him as he walked toward the desk. "Why am I supposed to think I've been here twenty minutes?" "But you have." "And that the picture on the wall"—I nodded at it—"changed from a bridge to a mountain?" "The picture?" Rube was standing before my desk, and he turned to look back at the watercolor, puzzled. "It's always been a mountain." "And was the phone always green, Rube?" He glanced at it. "Yeah, I guess so; far as I can remember." I was slowly shaking my head, still smiling. "It's no use, Rube; I've been here five minutes at the most." I gestured at the papers on the desk top. "And I never filled those out, no matter how much it looks like my writing."Through a moment or so Rube stood looking across the desk at me, his eyes concerned. Then he said, "Suppose I swear to you, Si, that you did? And that you've been here"—he looked at his watch—"just under twenty-five minutes?" "You'd be lying." "And suppose Rose swears it, too?" I just shook my head. Suddenly I squatted64 down beside the little telephone table and looked underneath65 it. There hung the white phone, held in place and the receiver prevented from falling by a wide U-shaped copper13 band fastened between two sides of the underpart of the table; near it was fastened a small metal box from which a pair of thin wires ran down the inside of the table leg. I pressed the table top near the edge, and a panel within the intricate design revolved66, the white phone rolling up into sight, the green phone sliding down onto the copper holding strip. When I looked up at him Rube was smiling, and he beckoned over his shoulder at the office doorway behind him. A man in shirt-sleeves walked in. He was young, dark-haired, with a thin trimmed mustache, and he was looking at me in a pleased way. As he walked toward us Rube said, "Dr. Oscar Rossoff, Simon Morley." We each said how-do-you-do, and he reached across the desk top while my hand rose to shake his, but instead of taking my hand he took my wrist between thumb and fingers. After a moment he said, "Pulse almost normal, and slowing rapidly. Good." He let go my wrist, stood smiling at me happily, and said, "How did you know? What tipped you off?" In the doorway Rose stood watching us, smiling. "Nothing tipped me off except that it's impossible. I just knew I hadn't filled out those forms. That I hadn't been here twenty minutes." I had to smile again as I nodded toward the picture. "And that a few minutes ago that crazy mountain was a bridge." "Inner-directed," Rossoff was murmuring before I finished. "This is fine," he said to Rube, "a very good reaction." He turned to me again. "To you it may seem unremarkable but I assure you many people act differently. One man jumped up and ran out through the door; we had to grab him in the hall and explain." "Well, fine; glad I passed." I tried not to look it, but I felt pleased as a kid who'd just won the spelldown. "But what's the idea? And how'd you work it?" Rube said, "We already knew the facts. It took an expert forger69 four hours to do those forms in a chemical ink. All but the first three blanks of the long form; those we left for you. There's a small infrared70 tube in the desk lamp; it makes the ink visible a few seconds after it's turned on. Rose watches through the mirror behind you; there's a corridor from her desk. As soon as you fill in thefirst three blanks, she phones you from an extension there and turns on the infrared tube. Time you're off the phone, and look back at the papers—hey, presto71!—all the blanks are filled." "And the picture?" Rube shrugged72. "A hole in the wall behind the glass and frame. While the candidate's writing, I just pull out the bridge and shove in the mountain." "Well, it beats the Katzenjammer Kids, but what's the point?" Rossoff said, "To see how you react when the impossible is happening: Some people can't take it. They rely on things being what they ought to be, and behaving as they always have. When suddenly they aren't, and don't, their senses actually surrender, can't cope. Right at that desk, they fail. Don, downstairs, was one; we had to give him a pill even after he knew what had happened. But you're guided from within, not from the outside. You know what you know. Come on into my office now, and have some coffee. A drink, if you want it; you've earned it." Rossoff's office was down the corridor Rube and I had come along, around a corner, then in through a door labeled INFIRMARY. As Rossoff pushed it open for Rube and me, I was reminded of a hospital, and I realized that the door was wider than most. We walked on through a large room, unlighted except for a skylight. It contained a desk, a row of wicker chairs along a wall, a fluoroscope, an eye chart, and what I took to be a portable X-ray machine. Rube said, "No more tricks from now on, Si, I promise. That was the one and only." "I didn't mind." Off to one side as we crossed the big room were the doorways73 of other, lighted rooms; from one I heard voices in casual conversation; in another I saw a man in a white hospital gown, his foot in a cast, sitting on an examining table reading a Reader's Digest. We walked into a small reception room; a nurse in white uniform stood at a filing cabinet leafing through folders74 in the open top drawer. She was holding a pen in her teeth by the barrel, and she smiled as well as she could; Rube pretended he was going to swat her in the rear as we passed through, and she pretended to believe him, swinging out of the way. She was a big, good-looking, good-natured woman in her late thirties, with a lot of gray in her hair. In his office Rossoff said, "Sugar? Cream?" walking toward a low magazine table and a glass jug75 of coffee on a hot plate. "I hope not, because we haven't got any." "I believe I'll take mine black," Rube said, sitting down in an upholstered chair. "How about you, Si?" "Black sounds good to me." I sat down in a green-leather chair, looking around me. It was a large rectangular room, windowless but filled with daylight from two immense skylights. I liked the room and felt comfortable in it. It was carpeted in gray and the walls were papered in a cheerful red-and-green pattern. At one end the doctor's desk was a mess, heaped with stackedbooks and papers. The other end was floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and Rossoff, handing me a cup of coffee, saw me looking at them. "Go take a look, if you like," he said, and I got up and walked over, tasting my coffee, which wasn't too good. I'd expected the books to be medical texts, and a lot were. But six or eight feet of shelving was history: college textbooks, reference books, biographies, all kinds of books on every period, country and historical personage you could think of. And there must have been two hundred novels, many very old judging from the bindings, none of their titles familiar to me. On the way back to my chair, sipping77 the coffee, I took a quick look at the framed diplomas, New York State license78, and photographs that nearly covered a wall above the back of a green-leather davenport. Rossoff, I saw, was an M.D. and a psychologist, from Johns Hopkins. He also had a cheerful-looking wife, two grade-school-age daughters, and a Basset hound. "All mine, the dog especially," he said, when he saw me glance at the pictures. We had our coffee, talking idly, filling in a five-minute pause. Mostly we talked about the San Francisco Giants, and a plan of Rossoff's to force them back to New York by kidnapping Willie Mays. Then Rube set his cup on a little table beside him and stood up. He said, "Thanks, Oscar; the coffee was atrocious. Si, I'll be back when the doc's finished with you, and we'll go see the director." He left, Rossoff asked if I wanted more coffee, and I said no. "Okay; now then," he said, "I have some tests I expect I'll be asking you to take presently. Mostly of a kind I'm sure you're familiar with. I may ask you to look at some Rorschach blots79 and tell me what nasty things they make you think of. That sort of thing. If you do all right, then we may want to find out how good a liar76 you are. I may ask you to pose, with no advance warning, as something you're not; a lawyer, for example. And withstand the questionings of three or four people apparently suspicious of the pose. Or you may deny you're artist, that you've ever been to New York, sitting in conversationwithseveralstrangers,a(an) llfromthe(or) project, who will try to trap you. But all that later. There's something else has to be done first. Incidentally, has it occurred to you that we may all be nuts, and that you've wandered into an immense booby-hatch?" "That's why I joined up." "Good; obviously you're the type we need." I liked Rossoff; if he was trying to put me at ease he was succeeding. He said, "Have you ever been hypnotized for any reason?" "No, never." "Do you have any feelings against it? I hope not," he added quickly. "This is most important; we have to be certain, first of all, that you can be hypnotized. Some people can't, as you undoubtedly80 know; the only way to find out is to try."I hesitated, then shrugged. "Well, I suppose if it's someone competent..." "I'm competent. And I'll do it. If you're willing." "Okay. I've come this far; it wouldn't make sense to let that stop me." Rossoff stood up, walked to his desk, and picked up a yellow wooden pencil. He sat down again, hitching81 his chair closer to mine till we sat only a yard apart, facing each other. Holding the pencil vertically82 before me, by the point, he said, "We'll use an object. This or most anything else will do; it doesn't have to be shiny. Just stare at it, if you will, please, not particularly intently; and if you want to blink or glance away do so. The only important thing here is that if you tense up and resist, I won't be able to do it. I need your okay in more than words; you have to agree mentally. Within yourself. And completely. All the way. Don't fight it at all. Don't resist. Are you perfectly83 comfortable? Just nod, if you are." I nodded. "Fine. If you sense any resistance in your mind, let it thaw84. Just sit and watch it melt, then let it drain away. Relax your muscles, incidentally; I want you really quite comfortable. Relax even your jaw85; let your mouth hang open a little, and let your eyes unfocus. I think you're feeling it a little now; you're intelligent and perceptive86, and I believe you're accepting this very well. Really very well, and it's rather pleasant, isn't it? And nothing to be concerned about. Occasionally I practice auto-hypnosis, which can be done very easily, and which you will learn, too. Just four or five minutes of self-hypnosis, which actually means nothing more than opening your mind to suggestion, your own suggestion, can be wonderfully refreshing87. I can cure a tension headache with it; I never use aspirin88. I think you're feeling how relaxing this can be. Isn't it a nice way to rest? Better than a drink, better than a cocktail89." He lowered the pencil, saying, "I'll tell you how wonderfully relaxed you are, in fact. Look at your right arm lying there on the arm of your chair. It's so completely relaxed, more than ever before in your life, even when you've been asleep, that you can't lift it. The muscles are too relaxed, they refuse to move. When I count to three you'll see for yourself. Try to lift your arm when I say 'three.' You won't be able to. One. Two. Three." My arm wouldn't move. I stared at it, leaning closer, my eyes fixed90 on my coat sleeve, my brain willing it to move. But it lay absolutely motionless; it would no more move at my silent command than the doctor's desk. "All right, don't be in any way concerned; you've willingly put yourself under my hypnotic suggestion, and done it very well, too. I'm going to talk to you for just a few minutes, now. Your arm, incidentally, is entirely free to move now." I lifted my arm, flexing91 it, clenching and unclenching the fingers as though it had been asleep. Then I leaned back into the soft leather of the chair, more comfortable and content than I remembered ever having been before. Rossoff said, "In a sense the mind is compartmented. Various parts of the brain perform various functions; eliminate a certain part of the brain, by accident, for example, and you lose the ability to talk. You have to learn how all over again, training another part of the mind. We canthink of memory in that way, too, if it's convenient. Memories can be shut off. Closed down as though they had never existed. When it happens extensively we call it amnesia92. Right now we're going to close off only a small part of your memory. When I tap this pencil against the arm of my chair, you will forget the name of the man who brought you here. For the time being it will be gone from your mind, as impossible to recall as though you never knew it." He tapped the pencil against the leather arm of his chair; it made only the smallest sound but I heard it. "You remember the man, don't you, who first talked to you and induced you to come here? And who just had coffee with us? You can picture his face?" "Yes." "How was he dressed, by the way?" "Wash pants, white shirt with short sleeves, brown moccasin loafers." "Could you draw a sketch of his face?" "Sure." "Okay, what is his name?" Nothing came to mind. I thought. I ran over names in my mind: Smith, Jones; names of people I knew or had known; names I had read or heard. None of them meant anything; I simply didn't know his name. "You understand why you can't think of it? That you're under hypnotic suggestion?" "Yes, I know." "Well, see if you can break through it. Do your damnedest. You know his name. You've used it and heard it several times today. Come on, now; what is his name?" I closed my eyes, straining. I searched my mind, tried to force out that name, but there was no way to find it. It was as though he were asking the name of a stranger in the street. "When I tap this pencil on the arm of the chair again, you will remember it." He tapped the pencil against the leather and said, "What is his name?" "Ruben Prien." "All right. When I clap my hands together you will come out of hypnosis completely. There will be no lingering remainder, no vestige93 of it. All hypnotic suggestibility will be gone." He clapped his hands together, not loudly but with a sharp hollow pop. "Feel all right?" "Yeah, fine.""Let me just test to be sure. When I tap this pencil against the arm of my chair, you will forget my name. You will be completely unable to recall it." He tapped the chair arm with the pencil again. "Now, what is my name?" "Alfred E. Neuman." "No, come on now, no kidding around!" "Rossoff. Dr. Oscar Rossoff." "Okay, fine. Just testing; you're clear. Well, you did good, a first-rate subject. I have a hunch94 you'll do. Next time I may have you bark like a seal and eat a live fish." I looked at Rorschach blots then, and told Rossoff what thoughts they started. I looked at pictures, interpreted them, and drew a few myself. I did a short true-or-false test. I filled in words missing from sentences. I talked about myself and answered questions. Wearing a blindfold95, I picked up objects and described their sizes and shapes, and sometimes their uses. Finally Rossoff said, "Enough. More than enough. I've generally run tests for several days, sometimes a week, but... we're not really so damned sure of what we're doing that I can pretend to pinpoint96 the requirements for performing what is probably an impossibility. I have the strongest kind of hunch about you, and no test is going to make me change my mind. They all confirm it, anyway. As well as I'll ever be able to figure it out, you're a candidate." He looked over at the closed door of the office, listening. We could hear the murmur67 of a man's voice, then a woman's laugh, and Rossoff yelled, "Rube, get your hands off Alice, and come on in here!" The door opened, and a very tall, thin elderly man walked in, and Rossoff got quickly to his feet. "It's not Rube," the man said, "and my hands weren't on Alice, I'm sorry to say." "It was the other way around," the nurse said, reaching into the office for the doorknob; she closed the door, smiling. Rossoff introduced us. This was Dr. E.E. Danziger, Director of the project, and we shook hands. His hand, big and hairy and with prominent veins97, wrapped right around mine, it was so large, and his eyes stared at me, excited, fascinated, wanting to know all about me in one look. The words spilling out, he said, "How does he test?" and while Rossoff told him, it was my turn to study him. He was a man you'd know again if you saw him just once. He was sixty-five or -six, I thought, his forehead and cheeks heavily lined; the cheek lines were a series of three curved brackets beginning at the corners of his mouth and extending up to the cheekbones, widening and deepening when he smiled. He was bald and tanned, the top of his head freckled, his side hair still black, or possibly dyed. He must have been six feet five inches tall, maybe more; and he was thin and lanky98, wide-shouldered but stooped. He wore a jaunty99 polka-dotted, blue bow tie; an old-style double-breasted tan suit, the coat hanging open; and a brown button-up sweater under the coat. Hewas well into his sixties but he looked strong, he looked masculine and virile100; I had a hunch that he might not at all mind getting his hands on Alice, and that maybe she wouldn't mind either. To Rossoff, speaking slowly, he said, "You say yes?" And when Rossoff nodded, he said, "Then I do, too. I've gone over all we have on him, and he sounds right." He turned and stood looking at me soberly and searchingly for some seconds; during this Rube stepped into the office and very quietly closed the door. I was beginning to feel a little embarrassed by Dr. Danziger's stare when he suddenly grinned. "All right!" he said. "And now you'd like to know what you've got yourself into. Well, first Rube will show you, then I'll try to tell you." He gripped his coat lapels in his big freckled fists, his arms hanging loosely, and stood staring at me again, smiling a little, nodding slowly; in approval, I felt, and was more pleased than I'd have thought. "I'm in charge of this establishment," Danziger continued then. "I began it, in fact. But just now I envy you. I'm sixty-eight years old, and two years ago when I understood that this project was going to become real, I began taking care of my health for the first time in my life. I quit smoking. I never thought I could and never much wanted to, but I quit"—he snapped his fingers —"like that. I miss it." His hand returned to his lapel. "But I'm not going to start again. I drink moderately; medicinally, actually. And I once drank a lot on occasion. Frequent occasion. Because I liked it. But no more now, and I follow a diet besides. Why all this nonsense?" He raised a hand, forefinger101 pointing up. "Because I want to live and be with this project just as long as I possibly can. I've had an interesting life, I haven't been cheated; I've been in two wars, lived in five countries, had two wives, a great many friends of both sexes, and once for four years I was rich. No children, though; you can't have everything." Again Dr. Danziger stared at me, eyes friendly and envious102, hands hung on his lapels. "But if this project should succeed, it will be the most remarkable68 thing mortal man has ever done, and I'll give up anything, I'd follow a diet of raw turnips103 and horse manure104, just to get an extra year or even an extra month of life for it. No matter how carefully a man lives, though, at sixty-eight his remaining years are numbered, while you— you're what: twenty-eight?" I nodded. "Well, you've got forty years on me then, and if I could steal them from you I'd do it, cheerfully and without compunction. I even envy you this day. Have you ever given someone a book you enjoyed enormously, with a feeling of envy because they were about to read it for the first time, an experience you could never have again?" "Yes, sir; Huckleberry Finn." "Right. Well, that's how I feel about the day you're going to have now. Take him away, Rube. There's lots to show him, and we're in a hurry now." He raised a wrist to look at his watch. "Bring him to the cafeteria at noon."
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curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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stenographer
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| n.速记员 | |
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rental
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| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
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4
poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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6
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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7
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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10
revolve
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| vi.(使)旋转；循环出现 | |
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11
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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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
rusting
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| n.生锈v.（使）生锈( rust的现在分词 ) | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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17
untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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18
slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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19
tautly
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| adv.绷紧地；紧张地； 结构严谨地；紧凑地 | |
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20
scurry
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| vi.急匆匆地走；使急赶；催促；n.快步急跑，疾走；仓皇奔跑声；骤雨，骤雪；短距离赛马 | |
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21
yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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22
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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23
skidding
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| n.曳出，集材v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的现在分词 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
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24
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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25
scoop
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| n.铲子，舀取，独家新闻；v.汲取，舀取，抢先登出 | |
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26
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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27
slewed
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| adj.喝醉的v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去式 )( slew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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29
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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30
explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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31
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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32
sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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33
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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34
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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35
discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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36
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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37
wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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38
curbs
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| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的第三人称单数 ) | |
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39
pedestrians
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| n.步行者( pedestrian的名词复数 ) | |
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40
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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41
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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42
hoaxed
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| v.开玩笑骗某人，戏弄某人( hoax的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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44
specialty
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| n.(speciality)特性，特质；专业，专长 | |
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45
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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46
stenciled
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| v.用模板印（文字或图案）( stencil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
hoods
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| n.兜帽( hood的名词复数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩v.兜帽( hood的第三人称单数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩 | |
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48
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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49
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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50
varnish
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| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
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51
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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52
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
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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54
adhesive
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| n.粘合剂；adj.可粘着的，粘性的 | |
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55
withholding
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| 扣缴税款 | |
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56
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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57
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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58
daydream
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| v.做白日梦，幻想 | |
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59
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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60
sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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61
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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62
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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63
clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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64
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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65
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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66
revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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67
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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68
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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69
forger
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| v.伪造；n.（钱、文件等的）伪造者 | |
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70
infrared
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| adj./n.红外线(的) | |
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71
presto
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| adv.急速地；n.急板乐段；adj.急板的 | |
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72
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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73
doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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74
folders
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| n.文件夹( folder的名词复数 )；纸夹；（某些计算机系统中的）文件夹；页面叠 | |
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75
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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76
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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77
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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78
license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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79
blots
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| 污渍( blot的名词复数 )； 墨水渍； 错事； 污点 | |
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80
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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81
hitching
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| 搭乘； （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的现在分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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82
vertically
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| adv.垂直地 | |
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83
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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84
thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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85
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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86
perceptive
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| adj.知觉的，有洞察力的，感知的 | |
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87
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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88
aspirin
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| n.阿司匹林 | |
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89
cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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90
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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91
flexing
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| n.挠曲，可挠性v.屈曲( flex的现在分词 )；弯曲；（为准备大干而）显示实力；摩拳擦掌 | |
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92
amnesia
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| n.健忘症，健忘 | |
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93
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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94
hunch
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| n.预感，直觉 | |
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95
blindfold
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| vt.蒙住…的眼睛；adj.盲目的；adv.盲目地；n.蒙眼的绷带[布等]； 障眼物，蒙蔽人的事物 | |
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96
pinpoint
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| vt.准确地确定；用针标出…的精确位置 | |
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97
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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98
lanky
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| adj.瘦长的 | |
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99
jaunty
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| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
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100
virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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101
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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102
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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103
turnips
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| 芜青( turnip的名词复数 )； 芜菁块根； 芜菁甘蓝块根； 怀表 | |
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104
manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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