Mr. Nobusuke Tagomi sat consulting the divine Fifth Book of Confucian wisdom, the Taoist oracle1 called for centuries the I Ching or Book of Changes. At noon that day, he had begun to become apprehensive2 about his appointment with Mr. Childan, which would occur in two more hours.
His suite3 of offices on the twentieth floor of the Nippon Times Building on Taylor Street overlooked the Bay. Through the glass wall he could watch ships entering, passing beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. At this moment a freighter could be seen beyond Alcatraz, but Mr. Tagomi did not care. Going to the wall he unfastened the cord and lowered the bamboo blinds over the view. The large central office became darker; he did not have to squint4 against the glare. Now he could think more clearly.
It was not within his power, he decided5, to please his client. No matter what Mr. Childan came up with: the client would not be impressed. Let us face that, he had said to himself. But we can keep him from becoming displeased6, at least.
We can refrain from insulting him by a moldy7 gift.
The client would soon reach San Francisco airport by avenue of the high-place new German rocket, the Messerschmitt 9-E. Mr. Tagomi had never ridden on such a ship; when he met Mr. Baynes he would have to take care to appear blasé, no matter how large the rocket turned out to be. Now to practice. He stood in front of the mirror on the office wall, creating a face of composure, mildly bored, inspecting his own cold features for any giveaway. Yes, they are very noisy, Mr. Baynes, sir. One cannot read. But then the flight from Stockholm to San Francisco is only forty-five minutes. Perhaps then a word about German mechanical failures? I suppose you heard the radio. That crash over Madagascar. I must say, there is something to be said for the old piston8 planes.
Essential to avoid politics. For he did not know Mr. Baynes' views on leading issues of the day. Yet they might arise. Mr. Baynes, being Swedish, would be a neutral. Yet he had chosen Lufthansa rather than SAS. A cautious ploy9. . . Mr. Baynes, sir, they say Herr Bormann is quite ill. That a new Reichs Chancellor10 will be chosen by the Partei this autumn. Rumor11 only? So much secrecy12, alas13, between Pacific and Reich.
In the folder14 on his desk, clipping from New York Times of a recent speech by Mr. Baynes. Mr. Tagomi now studied it critically, bending due to slight failure of correction by his contact lenses. The speech had to do with need of exploring once more -- ninety-eighth time? -- for sources of water on the moon. "We may still solve this heartbreaking dilemma," Mr. Baynes was quoted. "Our nearest neighbor, and so far the most unrewarding except for military purposes." Sic! Mr. Tagomi thought, using high-place Latin word. Clue to Mr. Baynes. Looks askance at merely military. Mr. Tagomi made a mental note.
Touching the intercom button Mr. Tagomi said, "Miss Ephreikian, I would like you to bring in your tape recorder, please."
The outer office door slid to one side and Miss Ephreikian, today pleasantly adorned15 with blue flowers in her hair, appeared.
"Bit of lilac," Mr. Tagomi observed. Once, he had professionally flower-raised back home on Hokkaido.
Miss Ephreikian, a tall, brown-haired Armenian girl, bowed.
"Ready with Zip-Track Speed Master?" Mr. Tagomi asked.
"Yes, Mr. Tagomi." Miss Ephreikian seated herself, the portable battery-operated tape recorder ready.
Mr. Tagomi began, "I inquired of the oracle, "Will the meeting between myself and Mr. Childan be profitable?" and obtained to my dismay the ominous16 hexagram The Preponderance of the Great. The ridgepole is sagging17. Too much weight in the middle; all unbalanced. Clearly away from the Tao." The tape recorder whirred.
Pausing, Mr. Tagomi reflected.
Miss Ephreikian watched him expectantly. The whirring ceased.
"Have Mr. Ramsey come in for a moment, please," Mr. Tagomi said.
"Yes, Mr. Tagomi." Rising, she put down the tape recorder; her heels tapped as she departed from the office.
With a large folder of bills-of-lading under his arm, Mr. Ramsey appeared. Young, smiling, he advanced, wearing the natty18 U.S. Midwest Plains string tie, checkered19 shirt and tight beltless blue jeans considered so high-place among the style-conscious of the day. "Howdy, Mr. Tagomi," he said. "Right nice day, sir."
Mr. Tagomi bowed.
At that, Mr. Ramsey stiffened20 abruptly21 and also bowed.
"I've been consulting the oracle," Mr. Tagomi said, as Miss Ephreikian reseated herself with her tape recorder. "You understand that Mr. Baynes, who as you know is arriving shortly in person, holds to the Nordic ideology22 regarding so-called Oriental culture. I could make the effort to dazzle him into a better comprehension with authentic23 works of Chinese scroll24 art or ceramics25 of our Tokugawa Period. . . but it is not our job to convert."
"I see," Mr. Ramsey said; his Caucasian face twisted with painful concentration.
"Therefore we will cater26 to his prejudice and graft27 a priceless American artifact to him instead."
"Yes."
"You, sir, are of American ancestry28. Although you have gone to the trouble of darkening your skin color." He scrutinized29 Mr. Ramsey.
"A tan achieved by a sun lamp," Mr. Ramsey murmured. "For merely acquiring vitamin D." But his expression of humiliation30 gave him away. "I assure you that I retain authentic roots with --" Mr. Ramsey stumbled over the words. "I have not cut off all ties with -- native ethnic31 patterns."
Mr. Tagomi said to Miss Ephreikian: "Resume, please." Once more the tape recorder whirred. "In consulting the oracle and obtaining Hexagram Ta Kuo, Twenty-eight, I further received the unfavorable line Nine in the fifth place. It reads:
A withered32 poplar puts forth33 flowers.
An older woman takes a husband.
No blame. No praise.
"This clearly indicates that Mr. Childan will have nothing of worth to offer us at two." Mr. Tagomi paused. "Let us be candid34. I cannot rely on my own judgment35 regarding American art objects. That is why a --" He lingered over his choice of terms. "Why you, Mr. Ramsey, who are shall I say native born, are required. Obviously we must do the best we can."
Mr. Ramsey had no answer. But, despite his efforts to conceal36, his features showed hurt, anger, a frustrated37 and mute reaction.
"Now," Mr. Tagomi said. "I have further consulted the oracle. For purposes of policy, I cannot divulge38 to you, Mr. Ramsey, the question." In other words, his tone meant, you and your pinoc kind are not entitled to share the important matters which we deal in. "It is sufficient to say, however, that I received a most provocative39 response. It has caused me to ponder at length."
Both Mr. Ramsey and Miss Ephreikian watched him intently.
"It deals with Mr. Baynes," Mr. Tagomi said.
They nodded.
"My question regarding Mr. Baynes produced through the occult workings of the Tao the Hexagram Sheng, Forty-six. A good judgment. And lines Six at the beginning and Nine in the second place." His question had been, Will I be able to deal with Mr. Baynes successfully? And the Nine in the second place had assured him that he would. It read:
If one is sincere,
It furthers one to bring even a small offering.
No blame.
Obviously, Mr. Baynes would be satisfied by whatever gift the ranking Trade Mission grafted40 to him through the good offices of Mr. Tagomi. But Mr. Tagomi, in asking the question, had had a deeper query41 in the back of his mind, one of which he was barely conscious. As so often, the oracle had perceived that more fundamental query and; while answering the other, had taken it upon itself to answer the subliminal42 one, too.
"As we know," Mr. Tagomi said, "Mr. Baynes is bringing us detailed43 account of new injection molds developed in Sweden. Were we successfully to sign agreement with his firm, we could no doubt replace many present metals, quite scarce, with plastics."
For years, the Pacific had been trying to get basic assistance in the synthetics44 field from the Reich. However, the big German chemical cartels, I. G. Farben in particular, had harbored their patents; had, in fact, created a world monopoly in plastics, especially in the development of the polyesters. By this means, Reich trade had kept an edge over Pacific trade, and in technology the Reich was at least ten years ahead. The interplanetary rockets leaving Festung Europa consisted mainly of heat-resistant plastics, very light in weight, so hard that they survived even major meteor impact. The Pacific had nothing of this sort; natural fibers45 such as wood were still used, and of course the ubiquitous pot metals. Mr. Tagomi cringed as he thought about it; he had seen at trade fairs some of the advanced German work, including an all-synthetic automobile46, the D. S. S. -- Der Schnelle Spuk -- which sold, in PSA currency, for about six hundred dollars.
But his underlying47 question, one which he could never reveal to the pinocs flitting about Trade Mission offices, had to do with an aspect of Mr. Baynes suggested by the original coded cable from Tokyo. First of all, coded material was infrequent, and dealt usually with matters of security, not with trade deals. And the cipher48 was the metaphor49 type, utilizing50 poetic51 allusion52, which had been adopted to baffle the Reich monitors -- who could crack any literal code, no matter how elaborate. So clearly it was the Reich whom the Tokyo authorities had in mind, not quasi-disloyal cliques53 in the Home Islands. The key phrase, "Skim milk in his diet," referred to Pinafore, to the eerie54 song that expounded55 the doctrine56, ". . .Things are seldom what they seem -- Skim milk masquerades as cream." And the I Ching, when Mr. Tagomi had consulted it, had fortified57 his insight. Its commentary:
Here a strong man is presupposed. It is true he does not
fit in with his environment, inasmuch as he is too
brusque and pays too little attention to form. But as he is
upright in character, he meets with response. . .
The insight was, simply, that Mr. Baynes was not what he seemed; that his actual purpose in coming to San Francisco was not to sign a deal for injection molds. That, in fact, Mr. Baynes was a spy.
But for the life of him, Mr. Tagomi could not figure out what sort of spy, for whom or for what.
At one-forty that afternoon, Robert Childan with enormous reluctance58 locked the front door of American Artistic59 Handcrafts Inc. He lugged60 his heavy cases to the curb61, hailed a pedecab, and told the chink to take him to the Nippon Times Building.
The chink, gaunt-faced, hunched62 over and perspiring63, gasped64 a place-conscious acknowledgment and began loading Mr. Childan's bags aboard. Then, having assisted Mr. Childan himself into the carpet-lined seat, the chink clicked on the meter, mounted his own seat and pedaled off along Montgomery Street, among the cars and buses.
The entire day had been spent finding the item for Mr. Tagomi, and Childan's bitterness and anxiety almost overwhelmed him as he watched the buildings pass. And yet -- triumph. The separate skill, apart from the rest of him: he had found the right thing, and Mr. Tagomi would be mollified and his client, whoever he was, would be overjoyed. I always give satisfaction, Childan thought. To my customers.
He had been able to procure65, miraculously66, an almost mint copy of Volume One, Number One of Tip Top Comics. Dating from the 'thirties, it was a choice piece of Americana; one of the first funny books, a prize collectors searched for constantly. Of course, he had other items with him, to show first. He would lead up gradually to the funny book, which lay well-protected in a leather case packed in tissue paper at the center of the largest bag.
The radio of the pedecab blared out popular tunes67, competing with the radios of other cabs, cars and buses. Childan did not hear; he was used to it. Nor did he take notice of the enormous neon signs with their permanent ads obliterating68 the front of virtually every large building. After all, he had his own sign; at night it blazed on and off in company with all the others of the city. What other way did one advertise? One had to be realistic.
In fact, the uproar69 of radios, traffic noises, the signs and people lulled70 him. They blotted71 out his inner worries. And it was pleasurable to be peddled72 along by another human being, to feel the straining muscles of the chink transmitted in the form of regular vibrations73; a sort of relaxing machine, Childan reflected. To be pulled instead of having to pull. And -- to have, if even for a moment, higher place.
Guiltily, he woke himself. Too much to plan; no time for a midday doze74. Was he absolutely properly dressed to enter the Nippon Times Building? Possibly he would faint in the high-speed elevator. But he had motion-illness tablets with him, a German compound. The various modes of address. . . he knew them. Whom to treat politely, whom rudely. Be brusque with the doorman, elevator operator, receptionist, guide, any janitorial75 person. Bow to any Japanese, of course, even if it obliged him to bow hundreds of times. But the pinocs. Nebulous area. Bow, but look straight through them as if they did not exist. Did that cover every situation, then? What about a visiting foreigner? Germans often could be seen at the Trade Missions, as well as neutrals.
And then, too, he might see a slave.
German or South ships docked at the port of San Francisco all the time, and blacks occasionally were allowed off for short intervals76. Always in groups of fewer than three. And they could not be out after nightfall; even under Pacific law, they had to obey the curfew. But also slaves unloaded at the docks, and these lived perpetually ashore77, in shacks78 under the wharves79, above the waterline. None would be in the Trade Mission offices, but if any unloading were taking place -- for instance, should he carry his own bags to Mr. Tagomi's office? Surely not. A slave would have to be found, even if he had to stand waiting an hour. Even if he missed his appointment. It was out of the question to let a slave see him carrying something; he had to be quite careful of that. A mistake of that kind would cost him dearly; he would never have place of any sort again, among those who saw.
In a way, Childan thought, I would almost enjoy carrying my own bags into the Nippon Times Building in broad daylight. What a grand gesture. It is not actually illegal; I would not go to jail. And I would show my real feelings, the side of a man which never comes out in public life. But. . .
I could do it, he thought, if there weren't those damn black slaves lurking80 around; I could endure those above me seeing it, their scorn -- after all, they scorn me and humiliate81 me every day. But to have those beneath see me, to feel their contempt. Like this chink peddling82 away ahead of me. If I hadn't taken a pedecab, if he had seen me trying to walk to a business appointment. . .
One had to blame the Germans for the situation. Tendency to bite off more than they could chew. After all, they had barely managed to win the war, and at once they had gone off to conquer the solar system, while at home they had passed edicts which. . . well, at least the idea was good. And after all, they had been successful with the Jews and Gypsies and Bible Students. And the Slavs had been rolled back two thousand years' worth, to their heartland in Asia. Out of Europe entirely83, to everyone's relief. Back to riding yaks84 and hunting with bow and arrow. And those great glossy85 magazines printed in Munich and circulated around to all the libraries and newsstands. . . one could see the full-page color pictures for oneself: the blue-eyed, blond-haired Aryan settlers who now industriously86 tilled, culled87, plowed88, and so forth in the vast grain bowl of the world, the Ukraine. Those fellows certainly looked happy. And their farms and cottages were clean. You didn't see pictures of drunken dull-wilted Poles any more, slouched on sagging porches or hawking89 a few sickly turnips90 at the village market. All a thing of the past, like rutted dirt roads that once turned to slop in the rainy season, bogging91 down the carts.
But Africa. They had simply let their enthusiasm get the better of them there, and you had to admire that, although more thoughtful advice would have cautioned them to perhaps let it wait a bit until, for instance, Project Farmland had been completed. Now there the Nazis92 had shown genius; the artist in them had truly emerged. The Mediterranean93 Sea bottled up, drained, made into tillable farmland, through the use of atomic power -- what daring! How the sniggerers had been set back on their heels, for instance certain scoffing94 merchants along Montgomery Street. And as a matter of fact, Africa had almost been successful. . . but in a project of that sort, almost was an ominous word to begin to hear. Rosenberg's well-known powerful pamphlet issued in 1958; the word had first shown up, then. As to the Final Solution of the African Problem, we have almost achieved our objectives. Unfortunately, however --
Still, it had taken two hundred years to dispose of the American aborigines, and Germany had almost done it in Africa in fifteen years. So no criticism was legitimately95 in order. Childan had, in fact, argued it out recently while having lunch with certain of those other merchants. They expected miracles, evidently, as if the Nazis could remold the world by magic. No, it was science and technology and that fabulous96 talent for hard work; the Germans never stopped applying themselves. And when they did a task, they did it right.
And anyhow, the flights to Mars had distracted world attention from the difficulty in Africa. So it all came back to what he had told his fellow store owners; what the Nazis have which we lack is -- nobility. Admire them for their love of work or their efficiency. . . but it's the dream that stirs one. Space flights first to the moon, then to Mars; if that isn't the oldest yearning97 of mankind, our finest hope for glory. Now, the Japanese on the other hand. I know them pretty well; I do business with them, after all, day in and day out. They are -- let's face it -- Orientals. Yellow people. We whites have to bow to them because they hold the power. But we watch Germany; we see what can be done where whites have conquered, and it's quite different.
"We approach the Nippon Times Building, sir," the chink said, his chest heaving from the exertion98 of the hill climbing. He slowed, now.
To himself, Childan tried to picture Mr. Tagomi's client. Clearly the man was unusually important; Mr. Tagomi's tone on the telephone, his immense agitation99, had communicated the fact. Image of one of Childan's own very important clients, or rather, customers, swam up into his mind, a man who had done a good deal to create for Childan a reputation among the high-placed personages residing in the Bay Area.
Four years ago, Childan had not been the dealer100 in the rare and desirable which he was now; he had operated a small rather dimly lighted secondhand bookshop on Geary. His neighboring stores sold used furniture, or hardware, or did laundry. It was not a nice neighborhood. At night strong-arm robberies and sometimes rape101 took place on the sidewalk, despite the efforts of the San Francisco Police Department and even the Kempeitai, the Japanese higher-ups. All store windows had iron gratings fitted over them once the business day had ended, this to prevent forcible entry. Yet, into this district of the city had come an elderly Japanese ex-Army man, a Major Ito Humo. Tall, slender, white-haired, walking and standing102 stiffly, Major Humo had given Childan his first inkling of what might be done with his line of merchandise.
"I am a collector," Major Humo had explained. He had spent an entire afternoon searching among the heaps of old magazines in the store. In his mild voice he had explained something which Childan could not quite grasp at the time: to many wealthy, cultured Japanese, the historic objects of American popular civilization were of equal interest alongside the more formal antiques. Why this was so, the major himself did not know; he was particularly addicted103 to the collecting of old magazines dealing104 with U.S. brass105 buttons, well as the buttons themselves. It was on the order of coin or stamp collecting; no rational explanation could ever be given. And high prices were being paid by wealthy collectors.
"I will give you an example," the major had said. "Do you know what is meant by 'Horrors of War' cards?" He had eyed Childan with avidity.
Searching his memory, Childan had at last recalled. The cards had been dispensed106, during his childhood, with bubble gum. A cent apiece. There had been a series of them, each card depicting107 a different horror.
"A dear friend of mine," the major had gone on, "collects 'Horrors of War.' He lacks but one, now. The Sinking of the Panay. He has offered a substantial sum of money for that particular card."
"Flip108 cards," Childan had said suddenly.
"Sir?"
"We flipped109 them. There was a head and a tail side on each card." He had been about eight years old. "Each of us had a pack of flip cards. We stood, two of us, facing each other. Each of us dropped a card so that it flipped in the air. The boy whose card landed with the head side up, the side with the picture, won both cards." How enjoyable to recall those good days, those early happy days of his childhood.
Considering, Major Humo had said, "I have heard my friend discuss his 'Horrors of War' cards, and he has never mentioned this. It is my opinion that he does not know how these cards actually were put to use."
Eventually, the major's friend had shown up at the store to hear Childan's historically firsthand account. That man, also a retired110 officer of the Imperial Army, had been fascinated.
"Bottle caps!" Childan had exclaimed without warning.
The Japanese had blinked uncomprehendingly.
"We used to collect the tops from milk bottles. As kids. The round tops that gave the name of the dairy. There must have been thousands of dairies in the United States. Each one printed a special top."
The officer's eyes had glinted with the instinct. "Do you possess any of your sometime collection, sir?"
Naturally, Childan did not. But. . . probably it was still possible to obtain the ancient, long-forgotten tops from the days before the war when milk had come in glass bottles rather than throwaway pasteboard cartons.
And so, by stages, he had gotten into the business. Others had opened similar places, taking advantage of the evergrowing Japanese craze for Americana. . . . but Childan had always kept his edge.
"Your fare," the chink was saying, bringing him out of his meditation111, "is a dollar, sir." He had unloaded the bags and was waiting.
Absentmindedly, Childan paid him. Yes, it was quite likely that the client of Mr. Tagomi resembled Major Humo; at least, Childan thought tartly112, from my point of view. He had dealt with so many Japanese. . . but he still had difficulty telling them apart. There were the short squat113 ones, built like wrestlers. Then the druggist-like ones. The tree-shrubflower-gardener ones. . . he had his categories. And the young ones, who were to him not like Japanese at all. Mr. Tagomi's client would probably be portly, a businessman, smoking a Philippine cigar.
And then, standing before the Nippon Times Building, with his bags on the sidewalk beside him, Childan suddenly thought with a chill: Suppose his client isn't Japanese! Everything in the bags had been selected with them in mind, their tastes --
But the man had to be Japanese. A Civil War recruiting poster had been Mr. Tagomi's original order; surely only a Japanese would care about such debris114. Typical of their mania115 for the trivial, their legalistic fascination116 with documents, proclamations, ads. He remembered one who had devoted117 his leisure time to collecting newspaper ads of American patent medicines of the 1900s.
There were other problems to face. Immediate118 problems. Through the high doors of the Nippon Times Building men and women hurried, all of them well-dressed; their voices reached Childan's ears, and he started into motion. A glance upward at the towering edifice119, the highest building in San Francisco. Wall of offices, windows, the fabulous design of the Japanese architects -- and the surrounding gardens of dwarf120 evergreens121, rocks, the karesansui landscape, sand imitating a dried-up stream winding122 past roots, among simple, irregular flat stones. . .
He saw a black who had carried baggage, now free. At once Childan called, "Porter!"
The black trotted123 toward him, smiling.
"To the twentieth floor," Childan said in his harshest voice. "Suite B. At once." He indicated the bags and then strode on toward the doors of the building. Naturally he did not look back.
A moment later he found himself being crowded into one of the express elevators; mostly Japanese around him, their clean faces shining slightly in the brilliant light of the elevator. Then the nauseating124 upward thrust of the elevator, the rapid click of floors passing; he shut his eyes, planted his feet firmly, prayed for the flight to end. The black, of course, had taken the bags up on a service elevator. It would not have been within the realm of reason to permit him here. In fact -- Childan opened his eyes and looked momentarily -- he was one of the few whites in the elevator.
When the elevator let him off on the twentieth floor, Childan was already bowing mentally, preparing himself for the encounter in Mr. Tagomi's offices.
收听单词发音 |
1
oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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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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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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moldy
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| adj.发霉的 | |
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piston
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| n.活塞 | |
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ploy
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| n.花招，手段 | |
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chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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folder
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| n.纸夹，文件夹 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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natty
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| adj.整洁的，漂亮的 | |
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checkered
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| adj.有方格图案的 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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ideology
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| n.意识形态，(政治或社会的)思想意识 | |
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authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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ceramics
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| n.制陶业；陶器 | |
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cater
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| vi.(for/to)满足，迎合；(for)提供饮食及服务 | |
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graft
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| n.移植，嫁接，艰苦工作，贪污；v.移植，嫁接 | |
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ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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ethnic
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| adj.人种的，种族的，异教徒的 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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35
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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36
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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37
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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38
divulge
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| v.泄漏(秘密等)；宣布，公布 | |
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39
provocative
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| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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40
grafted
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| 移植( graft的过去式和过去分词 )； 嫁接； 使（思想、制度等）成为（…的一部份）； 植根 | |
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41
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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42
subliminal
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| adj.下意识的，潜意识的；太弱或太快以至于难以觉察的 | |
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43
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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44
synthetics
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| n.化学合成物 | |
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45
fibers
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| 光纤( fiber的名词复数 )； （织物的）质地； 纤维，纤维物质 | |
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46
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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47
underlying
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| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
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48
cipher
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| n.零；无影响力的人；密码 | |
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49
metaphor
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| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
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50
utilizing
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| v.利用，使用( utilize的现在分词 ) | |
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51
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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52
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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53
cliques
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| n.小集团，小圈子，派系( clique的名词复数 ) | |
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54
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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55
expounded
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| 论述，详细讲解( expound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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57
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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58
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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59
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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60
lugged
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| vt.用力拖拉（lug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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61
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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62
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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63
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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64
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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65
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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66
miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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67
tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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68
obliterating
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| v.除去( obliterate的现在分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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69
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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70
lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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71
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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72
peddled
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| （沿街）叫卖( peddle的过去式和过去分词 )； 兜售； 宣传； 散播 | |
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73
vibrations
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| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
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74
doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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75
janitorial
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| adj.管理的(janitor的变形) | |
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76
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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77
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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78
shacks
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| n.窝棚，简陋的小屋( shack的名词复数 ) | |
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79
wharves
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| n.码头，停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
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80
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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81
humiliate
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| v.使羞辱，使丢脸[同]disgrace | |
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82
peddling
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| 忙于琐事的，无关紧要的 | |
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83
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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84
yaks
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| 牦牛( yak的名词复数 )； 笑话 | |
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85
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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86
industriously
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87
culled
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| v.挑选，剔除( cull的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
plowed
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| v.耕( plow的过去式和过去分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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89
hawking
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| 利用鹰行猎 | |
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90
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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bogging
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| n.陷入，沉入v.（使）陷入泥沼， （使）陷入困境( bog的现在分词 )；妨碍，阻碍 | |
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92
Nazis
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| n.（德国的）纳粹党员( Nazi的名词复数 )；纳粹主义 | |
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93
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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94
scoffing
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| n. 嘲笑, 笑柄, 愚弄 v. 嘲笑, 嘲弄, 愚弄, 狼吞虎咽 | |
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95
legitimately
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| ad.合法地；正当地，合理地 | |
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96
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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97
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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98
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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99
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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100
dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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101
rape
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| n.抢夺，掠夺，强奸；vt.掠夺，抢夺，强奸 | |
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102
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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103
addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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104
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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105
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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106
dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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107
depicting
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| 描绘，描画( depict的现在分词 )； 描述 | |
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108
flip
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| vt.快速翻动；轻抛；轻拍；n.轻抛；adj.轻浮的 | |
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109
flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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110
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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111
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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112
tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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113
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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114
debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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115
mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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116
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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117
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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118
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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119
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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120
dwarf
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| n.矮子，侏儒，矮小的动植物；vt.使…矮小 | |
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121
evergreens
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| n.常青树，常绿植物，万年青( evergreen的名词复数 ) | |
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122
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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123
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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124
nauseating
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| adj.令人恶心的，使人厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的现在分词 ) | |
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