My head was between her breasts, where it seemed to be spending a lot of time lately. She stroked my shoulder.
"Murray says the problem is that we don't repress our fear.""Repress it?""Some people have the gift, some don't.""The gift? I thought repression1 was outdated2. They've been telling us for years not to repress our fears and desires.
Repression causes tension, anxiety, unhappiness, a hundred diseases and conditions. I thought the last thing we weresupposed to do was repress something. They've been telling us to talk about our fears, get in touch with our feelings.""Getting in touch with death is not what they had in mind. Death is so strong that we have to repress, those of us whoknow how.""But repression is totally false and mechanical. Everybody knows that. We're not supposed to deny our nature.""It's natural to deny our nature, according to Murray. It's the whole point of being different from animals.""But that's crazy.""It's the only way to survive," I said from her breasts.
She stroked my shoulder, thinking about this. Cray flashes of a staticky man standing3 near a double bed. His bodydistorted, rippling4, unfinished. I didn't have to imagine his motel companion. Our bodies were one surface, hers andmine, but the delectations of touch were preempted5 by Mr. Gray. It was his pleasure I experienced, his hold overBabette, his cheap and sleazy power. Down the hall an eager voice said: "If you keep misplacing your ball of string,cage it in a Barney basket, attach some organizer clips to your kitchen corkboard, fasten the basket to the clips.
Simple!"The next day I started carrying the Zumwalt automatic to school. It was in the flap pocket of my jacket when Ilectured, it was in the top drawer of my desk when I received visitors in the office. The gun created a second realityfor me to inhabit. The air was bright, swirling7 around my head. Nameless feelings pressed thrillingly on my chest. Itwas a reality I could control, secretly dominate.
How stupid these people were, coming into my office unarmed.
Late one afternoon I took the gun out of my desk and examined it carefully. Only three bullets remained in themagazine. I wondered how Vernon Dickey had used the missing ammo (or whatever bullets are called by peoplefamiliar with firearms). Four Dylar tablets, three Zumwalt bullets. Why was I surprised to find that the bullets wereso unmistakably bullet-shaped? I guess I thought new names and shapes had been given to just about everything inthe decades since I first became aware of objects and their functions. The weapon was gun-shaped, the little pointedprojectiles reassuringly8 bullet-shaped. They were like childhood things you might come across after forty years,seeing their genius for the first time.
That evening I heard Heinrich in his room, moodily9 singing "The Streets of Laredo." I stopped in to ask whetherOrest had entered the cage yet.
"They said it was not humane10. There was no place that would let him do it officially. He had to go underground.""Where is underground?""Watertown. Orest and his trainer. They found a public notary11 there who said he would certify12 a document that saidthat Orest Mercator spent so many days incarcerated13 with these venomous reptiles14 blah blah blah.""Where would they find a large glass cage in Watertown?""They wouldn't.""What would they find?""A room in the only hotel. Plus there were only three snakes. And he got bit in four minutes.""You mean the hotel let them place poisonous snakes in the room?""The hotel didn't know. The man who arranged the snakes carried them up in an airline bag. It was a whole massivedeception except the man showed up with three snakes instead of the agreed twenty-seven.""In other words he told them he had access to twenty-seven snakes.""Venomous. Except they weren't. So Orest got bit for nothing. The jerk.""Suddenly he's a jerk."'They had all this antivenom which they couldn't even use. The first four minutes.""How does he feel?""How would you feel if you were a jerk?""Glad to be alive," I said.
"Not Orest. He dropped out of sight. He went into complete seclusion15. Nobody's seen him since it happened. Hedoesn't answer the door, he doesn't answer the phone, he doesn't show up at school. The total package."I decided16 to wander over to my office and glance at some final exams. Most of the students had already departed,eager to begin the routine hedonism of another bare-limbed summer. The campus was dark and empty. There was atrembling mist. Passing a line of trees, I thought I sensed someone edge in behind me, maybe thirty yards away.
When I looked, the path was clear. Was it the gun that was making me jumpy? Does a gun draw violence to it, attractother guns to its surrounding field of force? I walked on quickly toward Centenary Hall. I heard footsteps on gravel,a conspicuous17 crunch18. Someone was out there, on the edge of the parking area, in the trees and the mist. If I had a gun,why was I scared? If I was scared, why didn't I run? I counted off five paces, looked quickly left, saw a figure movingparallel to the path, in and out of deep shadow. I broke into a shambling trot19, my gun hand in my pocket, clutchingthe automatic. When I looked again, he wasn't there. I slowed down warily20, crossed a broad lawn, heard running, themeter of bounding feet. He was coming from the right this time, all-out, closing fast. I broke into a weaving run,hoping I'd make an elusive21 target for someone firing at my back. I'd never run in a weave before. I kept my headdown, swerved22 sharply and unpredictably. It was an interesting way to run. I was surprised at the range ofpossibilities, the number of combinations I could put together within a framework of left and right swerves23. I did atight left, widened it, cut sharply right, faked left, went left, went wide right. About twenty yards from the end of theopen area, I broke off the weave pattern and ran as fast and straight as I could for a red oak. I stuck out my left arm,went skidding24 around the tree in a headlong cranking countermotion, simultaneously25 using my right hand to pluckthe Zumwalt from my jacket pocket, so that I now faced the person I'd been fleeing, protected by a tree trunk, my gunat the ready.
This was about as deft26 a thing as I'd ever done. I looked into the heavy mist as my attacker approached in littlethudding footfalls. When I saw the familiar odd loping stride, I put the gun back in my pocket. It was WinnieRichards, of course.
"Hi, Jack6. At first I didn't know who it was, so I used evasive tactics. When I realized it was you, I said to myselfthat's just the person I want to see.""How come?""Remember that time you asked me about a secret research group? Working on fear of death? Trying to perfect amedication?""Sure—Dylar.""There was a journal lying around the office yesterday. American Psychobiologist. Curious story in there. Such agroup definitely existed. Supported by a multinational27 giant. Operating in the deepest secrecy28 in an unmarkedbuilding just outside Iron City.""Why deepest secrecy?""It's obvious. To prevent espionage29 by competitive giants. The point is they came very close to achieving theirobjective.""What happened?""A lot of things. The resident organizational genius, one of the forces behind the whole project, was a fellow namedWillie Mink30. He turns out to be a controversial fellow. He does some very, very controversial things.""I'll bet I know the first thing he does. He runs an ad in a gossip tabloid31 asking for volunteers for a hazardousexperiment. FEAR OF DEATH, it says.""Very good, Jack. A little ad in some rinky-dink newspaper. He interviews the respondents in a motel room, testingthem for emotional integration32 and about a dozen other things in an attempt to work up a death profile for eachperson. Interviews in a motel. When the scientists and the lawyers find out about this, they go slightly berserk, theyreprimand Mink, they put all their resources into computer testing. Berserk official reaction." "But that's not the endof it.""How right you are. Despite the fact that Mink is now a carefully observed person, one of the volunteers manages toslip through the screen of watchfulness33 and begins a program of more or less unsupervised human experimentation,using a drug that is totally unknown, untested and unapproved, with side effects that could beach a whale. Ahunsupervised well-built human.""Female," I said.
"Very correct. She periodically reports to Mink in the very motel where he originally did his interviewing,sometimes arriving in a taxi, sometimes on foot from the shabby and depressing bus terminal. What is she wearing,Jack?""I don't know.""A ski mask. She is the woman in the ski mask. When the others find out about Mink's latest caper34, there is a periodof prolonged controversy35, animosity, litigation and disgrace. Pharmaceutical36 giants have their code of ethics37, justlike you and me. The project manager is kicked out, the project goes on without him.""Did the article say what happened to him?""The reporter tracked him down. He is living in the same motel where all the controversy took place.""Where is the motel?""In Germantown.""Where's that?" I said.
"Iron City. It's the old German section. Behind the foundry.""I didn't know there was a section in Iron City called Germantown."'The Germans are gone, of course."I went straight home. Denise was making check marks in a paperback38 book called Directory of Toll39-Free Numbers.
I found Babette sitting by Wilder's bed, reading him a story.
"I don't mind running clothes as such," I said. "A sweatsuit is a practical thing to wear at times. But I wish youwouldn't wear it when you read bedtime stories to Wilder or braid Steffie's hair. There's something touching40 aboutsuch moments that is jeopardized41 by running clothes.""Maybe I'm wearing running clothes for a reason." "Like what?""I'm going running," she said. "Is that a good idea? At night?""What is night? It happens seven times a week. Where is the uniqueness in this?" "It's dark, it's wet.""Do we live in a blinding desert glare? What is wet? We live with wet.""Babette doesn't speak like this.""Does life have to stop because our half of the earth is dark? Is there something about the night that physically42 resistsa runner? I need to pant and gasp43. What is dark? It's just another name for light.""No one will convince me that the person I know as Babette actually wants to run up the stadium steps at ten o'clockat night.""It's not what I want, it's what I need. My life is no longer in the realm of want. I do what I have to do. I pant, I gasp.
Every runner understands the need for this.""Why do you have to run up steps? You're not a professional athlete trying to rebuild a shattered knee. Run on plainland. Don't make a major involvement out of it. Everything is a major involvement today.""It's my life. I tend to be involved." "It's not your life. It's only exercise.""A runner needs," she said.
"I also need and tonight I need the car. Don't wait up for me. Who knows when I'll be back."I waited for her to ask what mysterious mission would require me to get in the car and drive through the rain-streakednight, time of return unknown.
She said, "I can't walk to the stadium, run up the steps five or six times and then walk all the way back home. You candrive me there, wait for me, drive me back. The car is then yours.""I don't want it. What do you think of that? You want the car. you take it. The streets are slippery. You know whatthat means, don't you?""What does it mean?""Fasten your seat belt. There's also a chill in the air. You know what a chill in the air means.""What does it mean?""Wear your ski mask," I told her.
The thermostat44 began to buzz.
I put on a jacket and went outside. Ever since the airborne toxic45 event, our neighbors, the Stovers, had been keepingtheir car in the driveway instead of the garage, keeping it facing the street, keeping the key in the ignition. I walkedup the driveway and got in the car. There were trash caddies fixed46 to the dashboard and seat-backs, dangling47 plasticbags full of gum wrappers, ticket stubs, lipstick-smeared tissues, crumpled48 soda49 cans, crumpled circulars andreceipts, ashtray50 debris51, popsicle sticks and french fries, crumpled coupons52 and paper napkins, pocket combs withmissing teeth. Thus familiarized, I started up the engine, turned on the lights and drove off.
I ran a red light when I crossed Middlebrook. Reaching the end of the expressway ramp53, I did not yield. All the wayto Iron City, I felt a sense of dreaminess, release, unreality. I slowed down at the toll gate but did not bother tossinga quarter into the basket. An alarm went off but no one pursued. What's another quarter to a state that is billions indebt? What's twenty-five cents when we are talking about a nine-thousand-dollar stolen car? This must be howpeople escape the pull of the earth, the gravitational leaf-flutter that brings us hourly closer to dying. Simply stopobeying. Steal instead of buy, shoot instead of talk. I ran two more lights on the rainy approach roads to Iron City.
The outlying buildings were long and low, fish and produce markets, meat terminals with old wooden canopies54. Ientered the city and turned on the radio, needing company not on the lonely highway but here on the cobbled streets,in the sodium55 vapor56 lights, where the emptiness clings. Every city has its districts. I drove past the abandoned cardistrict, the uncollected garbage district, the sniper-fire district, the districts of smoldering57 sofas and broken glass.
Ground glass crunched58 under the tires. I headed toward the foundry.
Random Access Memory, Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome59, Mutual60 Assured Destruction.
I still felt extraordinarily61 light—lighter than air, colorless, odorless, invisible. But around the lightness anddreaminess, something else was building, an emotion of a different order. A surge, a will, an agitation62 of the passions.
I reached into my pocket, rubbed my knuckles63 across the grainy stainless64 steel of the Zumwalt barrel. The man on theradio said: "Void where prohibited."
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repression
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| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
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outdated
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| adj.旧式的，落伍的，过时的；v.使过时 | |
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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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rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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preempted
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| v.先占( preempt的过去式和过去分词 )；取代；先取；先发制人 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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notary
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| n.公证人，公证员 | |
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certify
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| vt.证明，证实；发证书(或执照)给 | |
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incarcerated
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| 钳闭的 | |
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reptiles
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| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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swerves
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| n.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的名词复数 )v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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multinational
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| adj.多国的，多种国籍的；n.多国籍公司，跨国公司 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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espionage
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| n.间谍行为，谍报活动 | |
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mink
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| n.貂，貂皮 | |
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tabloid
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| adj.轰动性的，庸俗的；n.小报，文摘 | |
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integration
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| n.一体化，联合，结合 | |
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watchfulness
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| 警惕，留心； 警觉（性） | |
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caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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pharmaceutical
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| adj.药学的，药物的；药用的，药剂师的 | |
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ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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paperback
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| n.平装本，简装本 | |
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toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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jeopardized
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| 危及，损害( jeopardize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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thermostat
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| n.恒温器 | |
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toxic
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| adj.有毒的，因中毒引起的 | |
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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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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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ashtray
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| n.烟灰缸 | |
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debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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coupons
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| n.礼券( coupon的名词复数 )；优惠券；订货单；参赛表 | |
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ramp
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| n.暴怒，斜坡，坡道；vi.作恐吓姿势，暴怒，加速；vt.加速 | |
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canopies
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| （宝座或床等上面的）华盖( canopy的名词复数 )； （飞行器上的）座舱罩； 任何悬于上空的覆盖物； 森林中天棚似的树荫 | |
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sodium
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| n.（化）钠 | |
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vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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syndrome
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| n.综合病症；并存特性 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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stainless
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| adj.无瑕疵的，不锈的 | |
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