ib.thewaspfactory-第13部分

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　　'For　Christ's　sake；　Frank；　could　you　eat　a　party…size　packet　of　crisps？'
　　
　　'And　how　are　you　keeping？'　I　said　quickly。　'I　mean；　you　must　be　sleeping　rough。　Aren't　you　catching　cold　or　something？'
　　
　　'I'm　not　sleeping。'
　　
　　'You're　not　sleeping？'
　　
　　'Of　course　not。　You　don't　have　to　sleep。　That's　just　something　they　tell　you　to　keep　control　over　you。　Nobody　has　to　sleep；　you're　taught　to　sleep　when　you're　a　kid。　If　you're　really　determined；　you　can　get　over　it。　I've　got　over　the　need　to　sleep。　I　never　sleep　now。　That　way　it's　a　lot　easier　to　keep　watch　and　make　sure　they　don't　creep　up　on　you；　and　you　can　keep　going　as　well。　Nothing　like　keeping　going。　You　bee　like　a　ship。'
　　
　　'Like　a　ship？'　Now　I　was　confused。
　　
　　'Stop　repeating　everything　I　say；　Frank。'　I　heard　him　put　more　money　into　the　box。　'I'll　teach　you　how　not　to　sleep　when　I　get　back。'
　　
　　'Thanks。　When　do　you　expect　to　get　here？'
　　
　　'Sooner　or　later。　Ha　ha　ha　ha　ha！'
　　
　　'Look；　Eric；　why　are　you　eating　dogs　if　you　can　steal　all　that　stuff？'
　　
　　'I've　already　told　you；　you　idiot；　you　can't　eat　any　of　that　crap。'
　　
　　'But；　then；　why　not　steal　stuff　you　can　eat　and　don't　steal　the　stuff　you　can't　and　don't　bother　with　the　dogs？'　I　suggested。　I　already　knew　it　wasn't　a　good　idea；　I　could　hear　the　tone　of　my　voice　rising　higher　and　higher　as　I　spoke　the　sentence；　and　that　was　always　a　sign　I　was　getting　into　some　sort　of　verbal　mess。
　　
　　Eric　shouted：　'　Are　you　crazy？　What's　the　matter　with　you？　What's　the　point　of　that？　These　are　dogs；　aren't　they？　It　isn't　as　though　I　was　killing　cats　or　field　mice　or　goldfish　or　anything。　I'm　talking　about　dogs；　you　rabid　dingbat！　Dogs！'
　　
　　'You　don't　have　to　shout　at　me；'　I　said　evenly；　though　starting　to　get　angry　myself。　'I　was　only　asking　why　you　waste　so　much　time　stealing　stuff　you　can't　eat　and　then　waste　more　time　stealing　dogs　when　you　could　steal　and　eat　at　the　same　time；　as　it　were。'
　　
　　'〃As　it　were〃？　〃As　it　were〃？　What　the　hell　are　you　gibbering　about？'　Eric　yelled；　his　strangled　voice　hoarse　and　contralto。
　　
　　'Oh；　don't　start　screaming；'　I　moaned；　putting　my　other　hand　over　my　forehead　and　through　my　hair；　closing　my　eyes。
　　
　　'I'll　scream　if　I　want　to！'　Eric　screamed。　'What　do　you　think　I'm　doing　all　this　for？　Eh？　What　the　hell　do　you　think　I'm　doing　all　this　for　？　These　are　dogs；　you　brainless　little　shitbag！　Haven't　you　any　brains　left？　What's　happened　to　all　your　brains；　Frankie　boy？　Cat　got　your　tongue？　I　said；　Cat　got　your　tongue？'
　　
　　'Don't　start　banging　the…'　I　said；　not　really　into　the　mouthpiece。
　　
　　'Eeeeeeaaarrrggghhh　Bllleeeaarrrgggrrllleeeooouurrgghh！'；　Eric　spat　and　choked　down　the　line；　and　there　followed　the　noise　of　the　phone…box　handset　being　smashed　around　the　inside　of　the　booth。　I　sighed　and　replaced　the　receiver　thoughtfully。　I　just　didn't　seem　to　be　able　to　handle　Eric　on　the　telephone。
　　
　　I　went　back　to　my　room；　trying　to　forget　about　my　brother；　I　wanted　to　get　to　bed　early　so　that　I　could　be　up　in　time　for　the　naming　ceremony　of　the　new　catapult。　I'd　think　about　a　better　way　to　handle　Eric　once　I　had　that　out　of　the　way。
　　
　　。。。　Like　a　ship；　indeed。　What　a　loony。
　　
　　
　　　4：　The　Bomb　Circle
　　
　　
　　OFTEN　I've　thought　of　myself　as　a　state；　a　country　or；　at　the　very　least；　a　city。　It　used　to　seem　to　me　that　the　different　ways　I　felt　sometimes　about　ideas；　courses　of　action　and　so　on　were　like　the　differing　political　moods　that　countries　go　through。　It　has　always　seemed　to　me　that　people　vote　in　a　new　government　not　because　they　actually　agree　with　their　politics　but　just　because　they　want　a　change。　Somehow　they　think　that　things　will　be　better　under　the　new　lot。　Well；　people　are　stupid；　but　it　all　seems　to　have　more　to　do　with　mood；　caprice　and　atmosphere　than　carefully　thought…out　arguments。　I　can　feel　the　same　sort　of　thing　going　on　in　my　head。　Sometimes　the　thoughts　and　feelings　I　had　didn't　really　agree　with　each　other；　so　I　decided　I　must　be　lots　of　different　people　inside　my　brain。
　　
　　For　example；　there　has　always　been　a　part　of　me　which　has　felt　guilty　about　killing　Blyth；　Paul　and　Esmerelda。　That　same　part　feels　guilty　now　about　taking　revenge　on　innocent　rabbits　because　of　one　rogue　male。　But　I　liken　it　to　an　opposition　party　in　a　parliament；　or　a　critical　press；　acting　as　a　conscience　and　a　brake；　but　not　in　power　and　unlikely　to　assume　it。　Another　part　of　me　is　racist；　probably　because　I've　hardly　met　any　colored　people　and　all　I　know　of　them　is　what　I　read　in　papers　and　see　on　television；　where　black　people　are　usually　talked　of　in　terms　of　numbers　and　presumed　guilty　until　proved　innocent。　This　part　of　me　is　still　quite　strong；　though　of　course　I　know　there　is　no　logical　reason　for　race　hatred。　Whenever　I　see　coloured　people　in　Porteneil；　buying　souvenirs　or　stopping　off　for　a　snack；　I　hope　that　they　will　ask　me　something　so　that　I　can　show　how　polite　I　am　and　prove　that　my　reasoning　is　stronger　than　my　more　crass　instincts；　or　training。
　　
　　By　the　same　token；　though；　there　was　no　need　to　take　revenge　on　the　rabbits。　There　never　is；　even　in　the　big　world。　I　think　reprisals　against　people　only　distantly　or　circumstantially　connected　with　those　who　have　done　others　wrong　are　to　make　the　people　doing　the　avenging　feel　good。　Like　the　death　penalty；　you　want　it　because　it　makes　you　feel　better；　not　because　it's　a　deterrent　or　any　nonsense　like　that。
　　
　　At　least　the　rabbits　won't　know　that　Frank　Cauldhame　did　what　he　did　to　them；　the　way　a　munity　of　people　knows　what　the　baddies　did　to　them；　so　that　the　revenge　ends　up　having　the　opposite　effect　from　that　intended；　inciting　rather　than　squashing　resistance。　At　least　I　admit　that　it's　all　to　boost　my　ego；　restore　my　pride　and　give　me　pleasure；　not　to　save　the　country　or　uphold　justice　or　honour　the　dead。
　　
　　So　there　were　parts　of　me　that　watched　the　naming　ceremony　for　the　new　catapult　with　some　amusement；　even　contempt。　In　that　state　inside　my　head；　this　is　like　intellectuals　in　a　country　sneering　at　religion　while　not　being　able　to　deny　the　effect　it　has　on　the　mass　of　people。　In　the　ceremony　I　smeared　the　metal；　rubber　and　plastic　of　the　new　device　with　earwax；　snot；　blood；　urine；　belly…button　fluff　and　toenail　cheese；　christened　it　by　firing　the　empty　sling　at　a　wingless　wasp　crawling　on　the　face　of　the　Factory　；　and　also　fired　it　at　my　bared　foot；　raising　a　bruise。
　　
　　Parts　of　me　thought　all　this　was　nonsense；　but　they　were　in　a　tiny　minority。　The　rest　of　me　knew　this　sort　of　thing　worked。　It　gave　me　power；　it　made　me　part　of　what　I　own　and　where　I　am。　It　makes　me　feel　good。
　　
　　I　found　a　photograph　of　Paul　as　a　baby　in　one　of　the　albums　I　kept　in　the　loft；　and　after　the　ceremony　I　wrote　the　name　of　the　new　catapult　on　the　back　of　the　picture；　scrunched　it　up　around　a　steelie　and　secured　it　with　a　little　tape；　then　went　down；　out　of　the　loft　and　the　house；　into　the　chill　drizzle　of　a　new　day。
　　
　　I　went　to　the　cracked　end　of　the　old　slipway　at　the　north　end　of　the　island。　I　pulled　the　rubber　almost　to　maximum　and　sent　the　ball…bearing　and　photograph　hissing　and　spinning　way　out　to　sea。　I　didn't　see　the　splash。
　　
　　The　catapult　ought　to　be　safe　so　long　as　nobody　knew　its　name。　That　didn't　help　the　Black　Destroyer；　certainly；　but　it　died　because　I　made　a　mistake；　and　my　power　is　so　strong　that　when　it　goes　wrong；　which　is　seldom　but　not　never；　even　those　things　I　have　invested　with　great　protective　power　bee　vulnerable。　Again；　in　that　head…state；　I　could　feel　anger　that　I　could　have　made　such　a　mistake；　and　a　determination　it　wouldn't　happen　again。　This　was　like　a　general　who　had　lost　a　battle　or　some　important　territory　being　disciplined　or　shot。
　　
　　Well；　I　had　done　what　I　could　to　protect　the　new　catapult　and；　while　I　was　sorry　that　what　had　happened　at　the　Rabbit　Grounds　had　cost　me　a　trusted　weapon　with　many　battle　honours　to　its　name　（not　to　mention　a　significant　sum　out　of　the　Defence　budget）；　I　thought　that　maybe　what　had　happened　had　been　for　the　best。　The　part　of　me　which　made　the　mistake　with　the　buck；　letting　it　get　the　better　of　me　for　a　moment；　might　still　be　around　if　that　acid　test　hadn't　found　it　out。　The　inpetent　or　misguided　general　had　been　dismissed。　Eric's　return　might　call　for　all　my　reactions　and　powers　to　be　at　their　peak　of　efficiency。
　　
　　It　was　still　very　early　and；　although　the　mist　and　drizzle　should　have　had　me　feeling　a　little　mellow；　I　was　still　in　good　and　confident　spirits　from　the　naming　ceremony。
　　
　　I　felt　like　a　Run；　so　I　left　my　jacket　near　the　Pole　I'd　been　at　the　day　Diggs　had　e　with　the　news；　and　tucked　the　catapult　tightly　between　my　cords　and　my　belt。　I　tugged　my　boots　to　running　tension　after　checking　my　socks　were　straight　and　unruffled；　then　jogged　slowly　down　to　the　line　of　hard　sand　between　the　seaweed　tidelines。　The　drizzle　was　ing　and　going　and　the　sun　was　visible　occasionally　through　the　mist　and　cloud　as　a　red　and　hazy　disc。　There　was　a　slight　wind　ing　from　the　north；　and　I　turned　into　it。　I　powered　up　gradually；　settling　into　an　easy；　long…pace