Chapter 21 chapter 2

He waited for Chuck Wainwright to arrive.Surrounded by large machinery used in the wharf, heavy cranes, overhead cranes.The tractor trailers drove into the marked positions one by one, and the special crane at the terminal made a rumbling sound, loading and unloading goods in the mist.There are containers stacked on the deck of the big ship, you can hardly believe how big the ship is, and you don't know what it is called.In the distance of the bay, an aircraft carrier is slowly sailing towards the Golden Gate, and a fleet of such ships is shaking on the channel.Three fireboats were spraying water in great arcs like farewell champagne.

Marvin checked his watch. It was the twentieth time he had done this in the past hour.Standing at a safe distance near the transit shed, he was dressed like a pagan lost in the fog: a suede traveling cap and a double-breasted trench coat.Trench coats with many buttons, epaulets, shoulder overlays, raglan sleeves, wide pockets, belts, cuff straps—names he knew from running the dry cleaners.He felt that he had never dressed like this in his life. In his hand he held a folding umbrella in a sheath that belonged to another umbrella, and a sky-blue trench coat in a bright chartreuse that only his wife liked.

Eleanor was here, the first time she had traveled with him, traveling in search of the baseball.Don't forget, this is San Francisco, a place she doesn't want to live in, a place she doesn't want to remember. The Bay Bridge was on his right, with thousands of cars passing every minute, people who had never heard of Marvin Lundy or his baseball obsession . He looked at his watch again, then peered across the bay. Chuck Wainwright was a crew member on a tramp that was heading down the coast from Alaska.Marvin made phone calls and telegrams again, and contacted the steamship company, the harbor master, and the captain of the ship, and learned of the ship's whereabouts and the list of crew members.It has been confirmed many times, and it has been determined many times, that it is fully proved that Charles Wainwright Jr.—the man called Chuck—is on this ship.The cargo ship, the Lucky Argos, was loaded with sand and gravel and had left the port of Anchorage, Alaska.

Chuck is a key figure in the chain of baseball owners.The baseball changed owners several times before, Marvin collected a lot of information about the owners, Wainwright's name finally—what's that word that doesn't mean final but close to final? --Appeared. He waited half an hour, and then went to the Ferry Building, hoping to inquire about the Fortune Argos, and see if he should be worried.The people there told him that the ship would berth at Pier Seven in about an hour and a half. He stepped out, stood in the breeze, took a breath, and smelled a stench coming from somewhere.The smell was barely perceptible, but it carried a strange emotional force.Later, it floated past and drifted away with the breeze.He heard the clatter of cars driving across the bridge, and saw Eleanor walking toward him with a sky-blue umbrella and a big smile on her face.

"I knew I'd find you here. I came over to see this beautiful building." Marvin turned his head to see what lovely thing he had missed. "You know, this building was not damaged by the earthquake, but the big clock was damaged by the earthquake, and it has been out of action for a whole year." "There's always a dead clock," said Marvin gloomily. "It seems to be a reminder to everyone who can see the clock." "Remind what?" She waved the guidebook at him. "Sometimes the doom is obvious." "what do you mean?"

"The big clock stopped at 5:17 in the morning. 5, 1, 7 dear. If you add up the three numbers, you get 13." Perhaps, there is change in the breeze.He noticed the smell again and found it moving him in a strange way.This smell originated from memory, the pungent earthy smell that I smelled.There was an indescribable impulse in his heart, hoping to find its source. "Where's your Mr. Wainwright?" "The boat is late," he said. "Don't be so pessimistic." "Where does pessimism come from? I'm standing here chatting." "You're hunched and listless."

"I was hunched all the time, and I was listless. It's something I've gotten from working in a factory." "Speaking of that baseball, you're always so hunched and slouched, more than usual." Eleanor was right.Had Eleanor been wrong in her judgment?He whined at her sometimes, but they both knew she was almost always right.She spoke with a British accent, and the baked muffins were something he was looking forward to the day before.She was very particular about her clothes, and he thought it might be a disease of hers.A few times he saw her mumbling to the wardrobe, but always using a word he liked, expressing one thing or another appropriately in a playful way.She was determined in her actions, yet always played it down and made sure he understood her.Now, their daughter is living independently, with a decent job and a safe apartment.Eleanor was careful to keep Marvin's baseball obsession from going to extremes and his depressive symptoms masked by joking from growing worse.

Later, they started walking down Embarcadero Boulevard at an easy pace.Marvin found that the numbers of the dock numbers were getting higher and higher—the numbers were getting bigger and bigger, and they were all even numbers.This means that they are getting farther and farther away from Pier 7.However, this seemed to be where the smell led him, a pungent scent that kept wafting on the breeze. "What do you need this Wainwright guy to tell you?" "How his dead father got baseball." "What are you doing this for?" "What's that called?" "Inheritance clues."

"Inheritance clues." Marvin said. 1. Chuck Wainwright's ex-wife, the woman named Susan or something - never mind the details. 2. The man was one-eighth Indian—Marvin forgot the name of the tribe—blood, and let Marvin know about Chuck Wainwright's ex-wife. 3. Shock caused by other people's lives.Another life, that explosion, that shock. 4. Chuck served in the US Air Force, stationed in Greenland and Vietnam, AWOL (Absent Without Leave of Absence) - what's that called, it's an acronym.Later, Chuck drifted around, grew a beard, and had a child, the child's name was Dakota.

5. That's where Marvin found Chuck's ex-wife, by chance in Rapids, Dakota.She led the patient through a swimming pool that was four feet deep. 6. Shock, the power that everyday life has.It is impossible to invent such a thing in a clean room, facing rows of computers. "Marvin, do you know what I want to say?" "There's a three-hour jet lag and I'm like, I can't wait any longer." "Walk with your legs up. You're a healthy man, but you're pretending to be sick." "This is gossip on the People's Channel." She was neither critical nor overly critical, and spoke to me softly.She treated him more than he'd expected, and sent him postcards when she returned to visit family in England.Imagine what it would be like to receive a postcard from your own wife.

At this time, she stopped abruptly, her body in the bright raincoat remained motionless. "What's that smell I'm smelling?" she asked. Marvin began to understand why the smell interested him so strongly.In a sense, it came from himself.He thought back to their travels in Europe six years after World War II ended.At that time, they were newlyweds, and Eleanor was a girl from an ordinary family.The two spent a long honeymoon in the cheapest way.They take slow trains, stay in shabby hotels, and forgo all comforts.But they also started an important job that meant a lot to Marvin's family.Marvin wants to find his half-brother Avram Rubasky.Avram was a soldier in the Red Army, wounded in Leningrad, wounded in Stalingrad, shot himself in Grodno, broke his toe.Later, Avram braved the attack of Stuka bombers and rowed across the Volga River, but was captured by the German army.After he escaped successfully, he went all the way south, wrapped his feet in newspapers as shoes, and married a gypsy girl in the Carpathians.He ate whitefish caught from the Black Sea and disappeared somewhere in the Ural Mountains. Russian stories like these.But now Marvin was looking for a baseball.He didn't want to take things lightly, though.It has its own epic character, its own history of setbacks and sweet memories, family picnics, evenings spent with bedbugs on the back porch of the house, hope Emergence and shattering, recording the lost song that cannot be heard on the record. "Let's go back, shall we? I think I don't want to be near this smell." She said the word smell with a skeptical look on her face.It was her special reaction to certain smells, her mouth pursed and her eyes widened, staring at the source of the shameful thing. "Probably a sewer or something. On and off. Let's go a little further." "I'm on vacation," she said. "This makes you feel sick? Some people eat camel meat with their hands, and they return to work in the morning and work as usual." "Let's talk it out first. Go to the construction site up ahead, then come back." "Just a little smell, what's the big deal?" he said. However, the smell was no longer a little bit, and now it became stronger and stronger, attracting him to approach slowly.He thought back to the run-down hotels, and to the toilets in them—thankfully, the toilets were at the end of the corridor.He thought of the public toilet in the train station, and the stranger in the next toilet seat, smelling of exotic food and body.The smell wafted across England, France and Italy.But it was not other people's smells that began to overwhelm him, but his own. At that time, he and Eleanor were heading east, across the European continent.During the trip, Marvin's bowel movements seemed to change, and his condition gradually worsened.The smell is getting stronger and more pungent, forming a density that slowly matures and grows older.He began to dread the time after breakfast: when he had to move his body to the toilet. What is that word called?Ashamed to speak? Marvin refers to his bowel movements as BMs (battery systems)—a term he once heard an army doctor mutter.His BMs turned against him, becoming violent in a sense.He and Eleanor passed the Dolomites in northern Italy, crossed Austria, and entered the northwest corner of Hungary by the side.At that time, the thing came out again, the stomach was rumbling, and the excretion was black.However, it was mainly the smell that disturbed him, and he feared Eleanor would notice it.He realized that it might be a normal part of the early days of married life, smelling each other, getting over it, and ignoring it.That way one can live, have children, buy a tiny house, remember everyone's birthdays in the family, drive down Blue Bridge Avenue, and get sick and die.But the smell was very strong, shameful, deeply personal, and seemed to indicate something terrible in the body of the person who smelt it.In this case, the husband must be very cautious. His smell is a secret that he cannot keep from his wife. The two entered Czechoslovakia, and the toilet in the toilet was weak, so he had to flush it, wait a while, and then flush it again.Then he opened the window and waved the towel, feeling guilty and confused.Many people were arrested and tried, and there was a certain ruthlessness in the streets that made one feel tense.In a cafe, the newlyweds got into an argument with a steelworker.The worker said he was proud of the smoke that hung over the city: it was progress, it was industrial power and drive—the darker the sky, the more property owners were imprisoned, the brighter the future of the socialist state good. What are they for?Marvin thought, It makes me feel stupid to say that, why haven't I convinced them that it's wrong? The pair passed through eastern Poland, and his BMs let off more gas.At a stand-up bar, they argue with workers over early beers and with a woman who calculates fares with an abacus.Marvin went back to the bathroom to get the newspaper he had forgotten—he had been looking for baseball results in a Warsaw dailies, but hadn't found them.He was surprised to find that the small room was warm, and the things he released just now left a smell of heat.It was heavy, wet, and stinking— All are energy released from a BM (battery). He felt lucky that every day it was Eleanor who went to the bathroom first.An English girl with almost pure blonde hair should not face embarrassing situations.He made sure to keep her from passing the toilet he had just used. "I'll just stop here," she said now. "We haven't gotten to the construction site yet." "If I move one more step, I'm going to die of exhaustion." A hundred yards ahead is a road construction site that has stopped construction, with bulldozers and large pickup trucks parked.Sidewalks were turned up and paved with gravel.A man lying alone in a mail pocket, the kind of man Marvin sees all around these days.Other than that, there was no one to be seen—where were those people hiding? "I'm going another ten or twenty yards," he told her. "I just want to see what's going on here. It might be a burst pipe. I'm just curious." He tried to hide his memory as much as he hid his smell.By then, tensions were building to evacuate.They had passports, visas, went to Pinsk, went to Minsk.He grumbled in his seat, knowing that everything was coming out—earth, air, fire, water. The pair traveled deep through communist countries, and his BM got increasingly smelly along the way. No matter where they are, there are guides from the Soviet International Travel Service accompanying them.One tour guide left, and the other continued to receive them.Someone peeked at their luggage, a guide made sure they weren't looking at some sensitive building, at a river dammed a hundred miles upriver, at a river leading a thousand miles away. Highway in a military location.Throughout the journey, they seem to share every breath with a private policeman.There, even the weather is a secret, the newspapers don't publish weather forecasts, and people talk about it in a subdued voice. He learned the name and address, talked to more than a dozen people, followed the clues, and finally arrived at the city of Gorky.A distant relative who lived there sent him to 1st.There stood many unfinished houses, and he found Avram.Marvin and he looked at each other for the first time.Avram lives in a cramped apartment with his second wife, and his second, third and fourth children live with him.Marvin and Avram embraced each other, teary-eyed.Those tears may be real, and to a certain extent, may also be to show the effect of meeting relatives.The two spoke a little Russian, English and Yiddish, and before long they were quarreling laboriously.Avram was a dedicated communist with beetle-like eyebrows and a contempt for America.He said in a disdainful tone that the American system is corrupt, and we will treat you as lunch and eat you one by one.What is your culture called?Mickey Mouse Culture.That night, Marvin had to rush to the bathroom, unleashing a firewall of chemical waste.The smell surrounded him, filled with—what was it called? —Geopolitics, he picked up the towel, waved it around for five full minutes, and then opened the window.Still, the scent lingered, and he continued waving a rolled-up Pravda—he still hadn't given up trying to find the baseball scores.Later, when he went out and stood in the room where they lived, he saw Eleanor asleep.She was from a mild country country and would probably die of his strong odor. He walked to the edge of the construction debris and realized that wasn't the source of the stench.The stench was still there, reminded him vividly of his own trip to the Soviet Union, but not as strong as his discharge, slightly less, and it wasn't coming from a broken main sewer line or one used by the homeless. public toilets. At this time, he saw the ship.It was moored on a wharf ahead, far from where he stood, between the empty docks and the wide inner harbour.It appears to have been abandoned, with the bridge and decks empty, the hull rusted and the funnel covered in graffiti.He could not read the writing, the letters he had never seen before. He turned and looked at Eleanor.She has a knack for not showing agitation when things go wrong.She tilted her body slightly, turned her head slightly, and became weak, her mouth formed a yawning circle. The name of the ship is illegible, covered in rust and graffiti.The shabby-looking ocean-going ship carried the stench of portable toilets in the fields. Marvin and Avram quarreled for three whole days.They ate in small unheated apartments.Originally, construction of apartments on the block had to be completed by a certain date, regardless of whether the houses were completed.As a result, if you want to take a shower, you have to remove the tap in the kitchen and use it in the bathroom down the hall.The two men told a great deal about their family history, but the conversation was always veiled in disputes, interrupted by overt insults, and words like us and them.Marvin found it very harsh to hear such a thing uttered from a very confident mouth.Avram is a real little guy.He is short in stature and needs to stand on tiptoe when speaking, revealing two stainless steel dentures, which look like a shiny electrical appliance.The apartment had no windows when the family moved in, and Avram had to install them himself.He got the windows from the plate glass factory where he worked.The glass is so thin that one has to stay away from the window when speaking, and a word with too many consonants can shatter the glass. Avram told Marvin that we were building a bomb that no Westerner could have dreamed of.That's why those windows shatter easily. No doubt Marvin was filled with annoyance at the thought of this: a man living in such conditions, running up and down the corridors clutching the faucet, the spout, and the two valves.Only cold water came out of the pipes, and the family crammed into the cramped apartment.However, this man was very self-righteous and easily excited, which almost drove Marvin crazy.Without the basic living conditions, without the things that constitute material enjoyment, how can this person survive?Eleanor knew the word and said it clearly. She said to him now, "Let's go." On the way back to Western Europe, his system gradually normalized, turning back to bran BMs, working fine, and the smell had faded. Later, in Switzerland—a neutral country—they took a train through tunnels and past moonlit lakes.Marvin heard a familiar voice in front, the interfering sound of the radio and talking, so he followed the sound and walked to the front of the car.Two GIs hunched over a portable radio with a tiny antenna sticking out, listening to Russ Hodges on the Armed Forces Radio Network.Hodges' commentary was interrupted every time the train entered the tunnel -- an interruption that coincided with Thomson's home run.The train travels through the Alps. Eleanor had just left the bathroom when Marvin walked in.He was in a bad mood, making the atmosphere in the room suddenly dull.She stood looking at him, wrapped in a towel and showing pink toes. "The ship has arrived, the Lucky Argos, Pier 7, and the time is exactly as they said." "But Wainwright," she said. "Not on board." "Don't get down." "He jumped off the boat in Vancouver." "Do they know where he's gone?" "Working on the other boat. Going north somewhere. He likes the cold weather, this Chuck." "You'll find him." "It doesn't matter." "Actually it does. I used to think you were crazy for what you did. But, I understand now. Yes, you're crazy, but there's something to it. A lovely naive logic, a lovely fairy tale Complex. You need to know the end of the story, Marvin dear. You can't tell the end of the story without the last clue about that baseball. What's a story if it doesn't have an end? But I don't think we need stories not the end of it, but its beginning.” He liked the way she looked wrapped in a towel.They met near the end of the war, at first as nodding acquaintances, and later as letters to each other.At that time, she was holding a flashlight in her hand, and she was an anti-aircraft team member, that's what they called it.He was the quartermaster, distributing the condoms, which were needed on D-Day, over the muzzles of the guns to keep out the sand and sea water.Now, twenty-seven years into their marriage, he still likes her wrapped in a towel or in a petticoat. He sat on the edge of the bed in shorts and took off his crumpled socks.They love to have sex in cozy hotels like advertised tourists.Their room had a great view, with a sweeping view of the countryside from the window, office buildings in the distance, and clouds reflected in the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel restaurant. "Marvin, are you going to wear it?" She was talking about his traveling cap. "I need it to be able to see myself." Another reason he needed it was to cover his big ears and hide his poor Marvin nose.Even if she doesn't care about his appearance, he still hopes to make himself look better in her eyes.He was wearing his best shirt this evening, with French cuffs, and he couldn't help saying what it was called. "With or without a hat, you are my man." When she said this, she deliberately made her mouth tremble slightly, making him feel that he owned the whole earth. She let the towel slide off and leaned one knee against the head of the bed.They still have the passion of their honeymoon, a little shy and eager.Marvin still had the character of a Brooklynite, and there was a little doubt in his response.At the beginning, based on her accent and appearance, the fictional myth that the two of them were very different was fabricated.Later, he began to find it very difficult to hold on to this sentimental view after all these years.After the marriage, he got to know Eleanor little by little: she was equal to him in desire, her ambitions were greater than his, and her chief aim was America—the things, places, shelves of which Goods and the special favor of fate.Still, he managed to make himself forget the fact that her main quest was America. At this moment, they were lying in a strange bed in California.Marvin wears a plastic wig and holds an English girl in his arms. Looking at her pink body and her pure appearance, he can't help feeling that life is full of twists and turns, and everything in the world is unpredictable. She was going to a Japanese restaurant, but there were other requirements: They had to go to the restaurant with tatami seating that the guidebook said. Marvin felt that if he lived a hundred years before meeting Eleanor, he would do three things in the same order every day; if he met Eleanor at the age of one hundred and one, he would immediately be with her Sit together on the tatami floor and eat seaweed. The two of them sat barefoot and faced each other by the low table. "What's the word that means near final?" "penultimate (second to last)." "Penultimate. Get it, here's what I found at Chuck Wainwright." "Sit up straight," she told him. "Greenland, I've always had my doubts about that place." "what do you mean?" "If he's ever been there, it's where he was stationed when he was in the Air Force." "Why hasn't he been there?" "Among the people you know, has anyone been anywhere?" "No, no," said Eleanor. "Let me tell you, no one I know, no one I've talked to recently." "I think there's a big city there." "You think there's a big city there, do you know what that place is called?" "No, I do not know." "Have you seen Greenland on a map?" "I think so, maybe once or twice." "Have you noticed that it's not the same size on any two maps? Greenland's size is different on each map, and it changes every year." "It's huge," she said. "Very large, very vast. However, depending on the map, it sometimes becomes a little smaller." "I think it's the biggest island in the world." "The largest island in the world," said Marvin, "but no one you know has been there. Also, its size keeps changing. You hear me, and its location. If you After looking at one map carefully, and then looking at another, Greenland seems to move, and its position in the ocean changes slightly. That's the general meaning of my point." "What's your point of view?" "If you ask, I'll tell you. The biggest secret is right in front of us, but we can't see anything." "What is Greenland's secret?" "First, does it exist? Second, why does its size and location keep changing? Third, why doesn't anyone we know have been there? Fourth, a B-52 bomber was there ten years ago It went down, and the facts about it were completely kept secret. We still don't know if the plane had an atomic bomb on it. Why?" He mispronounced the word atom. "You think that Greenland has a secret function and a secret meaning. However, you think that everything has a secret function and a secret meaning," she said. "The bigger the object, the easier it is to hide. How do you get to Greenland? What kind of ship? No one knows what the main city is called, no one has been there. Where do you find a flight to that main city And, that's a major city, what about the outlying areas? The whole island is huge and is a outlying area in itself. What color is it? Is it green? Iceland is green, Iceland is on TV and can be seen To the housing and countryside there. If Iceland is green, is Greenland white? The reason I ask this is that no one has ever asked. I have no personal investment in that place myself. However, I watch nature channel programs , seeing people in New Guinea smearing dirt on their bodies, and seeing those horned antelope mating in some valley in Africa." "They're called wildebeests," said Eleanor. "However, I've never seen what Greenland looks like." The bartender brought her sake and his beer.She calls it a drink.Marvin felt as if he was on a plane.The places he went, the days he slovenly, the sentences he said, the words he used, it was all about baseball. Lundi, a passenger waiting for a connecting flight, please contact the service desk. 1. In the small town called what, there is a mother of twins. 2. In a community of people who are sensitive to chemical changes, there lives a person.The people there were wearing white shift dresses. 3. The woman's name was Bliss, and the man was younger--and Marvin was younger--probably like her, with pretty eyes, and probably doing a little work in Indianola, Mississippi. 4. The impact of a different life from yours.Happiness, health, loneliness, confusion.One-eighth Indian descent.Even when it's ordinary, life is vague and unpredictable. 5. A guy named Susan something talks about a baseball with a great history.Who knew her?Marvin had forgotten about the tribe. 6. Stomach relapse. 7. When someone presses the shutter of a camera from a mile and a half away, the whole body of the chemically sensitive person vibrates. 8. Chuck Wainwright went to sea, leaving behind a woman and a child.He's a Christian hippie with bare feet and beads.Marvin went from ship to ship, asking the people on board, following his whereabouts. 9. The child in Utah who suffered from bone cancer, his mother said, the child's disease was caused by the government. 10. Marvin often lost his way.One day he set off for Melbourne, Florida, and almost ended up in Australia. 11. And the woman with the broken teeth - that's a long story, you shouldn't ask. 12. That ball has chemicals in the center that make that person go for a run every day after breakfast. "Tell me what we do after dinner." "Are you asking me?" "You've been to this city before, I haven't," she said. "I get up off the ground, what else can I do? I have a lump on my leg that a cannibal would spit out after biting it off." "Stop making trouble, let me have fun." "She wants to hang out." "Let's treat this as the city we live in, Marvin." Unbelievably, on the one hand, he tracked forward and recorded the recent movements of this baseball in detail, and on the other hand, he explored its distant past.Sometimes he thought he saw the ball flying past his eyes.He wants to find Chuck, make the final connection, make the initial connection, the connection to Paul Field itself.But if he couldn't find the guy, he'd probably buy the baseball too, the famous one.Once it was owned, he would continue to search for Chuck for the rest of his life. "I want you to take me out and see the other side of this city, the dark side." This baseball brings no luck, neither bad luck nor good luck.It is just an object passing through life.Yet it prompted people to tell him things, to confide in him family secrets, to confide in unbearable personal suffering, to let a heartfelt cry flow over his shoulders.What do they know he is theirs?Oh, the medium through which they unleash their emotions.Their narratives could be sublimated, absorbed by something bigger, by the long, up-and-down journey of baseball itself, by his own absurd treks over the decades. Ok.Marvin is not a person who likes nightlife, but he knows a place and can take her there.Actually, it was a street, nothing more.That street is called Float, and it's near the original hippie ghetto.The shops there are open all night and the houses have no house numbers.That one street fulfills the special needs of someone who changes with the phases of the moon. Joint by joint, he rose slowly from the floor.They called a taxi and walked out of the restaurant. Twenty minutes later, the two of them were strolling down the street, umbrellas in hand—it was raining lightly.A few beggars hovered nearby, and a woman in a mohawk with whitewashed face tucked a leaflet promoting the end of the world into the belt of Marvin's raincoat.Peace is coming, get ready.Despite—or because of—it was late, most shops were open.Those shops seem to be all lower than the street level, and you have to look through the iron railings to see the things for sale inside.Rubber products used in role-reversed sexual activity.Endangered fashion - crop tops made from disappearing animal skins. They entered a cramped room with a crumbling plaster ceiling, grimy wainscoting and rare audio recordings for sale.Instead of traditional jazz, though, there are phone taps, or wall bugs, and recordings of syndicated criminals talking to girlfriends or lawyers.He was carrying a briefcase, and he was a stern guy—the kind I'm talking about on the 11 o'clock news.They wore cashmere jackets and had enough to pack a Little League team from Taiwan.They bug the phones of ordinary anonymous men and women, and perhaps even more repulsive and fascinating, the next-door neighbors.马文心里明白，购买这类东西的人会花费若干小时的时间，头昏脑胀地偷听别人说话，生活可能完全被这样的行为控制。如果还要进行完全枯燥无味的录音活动，情况将会变得更加糟糕。此外，这样的活动可能提供任何嗜好带来的诱惑，让人虚耗时间而不能自拔。 这条叫飘浮的街道具有一种优势，带有一种午夜终止的色彩。 他俩在各家店铺里短暂停留，有的出售解剖照片，有的出售电影明星的垃圾——冷藏在仓库中的真正的垃圾。顾客查目录，下订单。 没有油漆的地板，污迹斑斑的墙面，这样的氛围——她说氛围一词时带着一点法语的味道——让埃莉诺感到兴奋。她挽着马文的胳膊，来到街道上，看见一楼窗户上写着几个大字：恋脚癖巡游西班牙港口。 飘浮的欲望地带。这是什么来着，把欲望分解为无数个亚种，分解为副产品和细小的东西，分解为自我的边缘絮语。一家低级夜总会设有一间密室，那里播放的色情电影涉及残肢角色。这里有同性恋之夜和非同性恋之夜。如果你愿意听从建议，你可以飘过这个地带，一点一点地品尝这里的特色美食，通过你喜欢的东西，发现自己究竟是什么样的人。你被自己的心理固恋所界定。 一个男童与他们擦肩而过，他衣衫褴褛，可能刚刚参加了一场盛大的游行。 有一家咖啡馆名叫阴谋论咖啡馆，里面的书架上摆放着图书、影片、录音带，还有用蓝色夹子装起来的政府文件。埃莉诺想喝一杯咖啡，顺便浏览一下，可是马文摆手表示拒绝——全是枯燥乏味的东西。在他看来，阴谋的源泉处于更深的层面，不那么容易被人发现，既深奥又肤浅，看一看广告牌和纸板火柴、产品上的商标吧，看一看身体的胎记，看一看宠物的动作吧。 有什么东西盯着你的面孔。 最大的一家店铺在平街的那一层，里面站着十几个男人，身穿雨衣，行动诡秘，有的翻阅着过期的《国家地理》杂志。那是些旧杂志，有人读过，翻过，随身携带过，上面附有收件人的地址标签，还有机器处理时盖的邮戳，有的还有墨水污迹、汗迹。标签上印有喜欢杂志的真实美国人的地址和名字。穿着雨衣的男人站在桌子和书箱前面，一边翻阅杂志，一边阅读那些标签，脑袋一直埋着。 一个人买了一本杂志，顺手把杂志塞进雨衣，很快离开。 马文觉得，那些人感兴趣的并不是落日余晖下冻原上的狼群照片，他们寻找的是别的什么东西，也许是被人遗忘的低语，也许是内地的漂亮住宅中的家庭感——一条西班牙猎狗垂着耳朵，趴在地毯上。也许，他们寻找的是一种温暖舒适的纯真感——房子外面是没有发现的世界，广袤无垠的大地。也许，他们寻找的是带着怀旧情感的色情作品，或者是别的什么完全不同的东西？ 是否总有密室？是否总有另外一种分裂的欲望，稍微高雅一些，个性化一些呢？有这样的密室吗？在那样的密室中，杂志并不装在醋酸纤维夹子里。也许，有珍藏版杂志或者表示珍藏版的标签。也许，那些夹子蒙着灰尘，带着人手留下的污迹，本身就是恋物癖需要的东西。有的夹子几乎是没有光泽，就像旧塑料，散发出微弱气味，手感就像避孕用具，用来存放阅读材料的避孕套。也许，还有另外一个房间，需要低声说出密码才能进去，里面只有文件夹，空文件夹，被人摆弄过无数次的文件夹。这个地方简直让埃莉诺觉得毛骨悚然，根本不是她想看的——身穿雨衣的男人翻阅《国家地理》，鬼鬼祟祟地细看上面的标签。 他们看到，街道对面有一家高个女人用品商店，名叫长腿美女萨莉，不过并不出售服装，招牌上写着：性幻想提升用品。出售的东西包括图书、影片和用具——高个女人专用。 在一个细雨濛濛的夜晚，在某条背街上看到一些古怪的东西，这不禁让人感到疑惑，它们为什么显得抢眼呢？马文觉得，这里存在着某种东西，它可能是什么巨大力量开始爆发的早期迹象。他并不确切知道那是什么，总之并不知道，不知道它在世界上什么地方——大地之中的一种震荡，可能改变世上的一切。 “行了，马文，我现在该睡觉了。” 还有一个去处。那个地方他以前去过，是一个熟人经营的。那人名叫汤米·尚，可以称为同事。如果有这个说法，他也许是全国第一家出售棒球纪念品的商店。 他俩沿着污秽的阶梯，走进一个灯光昏暗的小房间。里面摆放着计分卡、歌集以及许多与棒球相关的古怪东西。唱片和文件堆放起来，摇摇欲坠。 埃莉诺深深地叹了一口气，就像一只被子弹打中的松鸡。 汤米高坐在椅子上。那椅子和收银机放在一个高台上，仿佛是一个小岛，漂浮在已经变为棕色的墙纸上面。这使马文想到他在寻找棒球的过程中看到的比赛录像中的情形：在那天比赛临近结束时，道奇队濒临失败，保罗球场里的球迷们把计分卡和报纸扔向场地。那天的暮色中到处一片狼藉。也许，有些垃圾今天就在这里，被球场清洁工保留下来，最后进入由记忆和收藏品组成的地下网络之中，其中有孩子折叠成飞机形状的计分卡，有球迷欢呼时从上层看台上扔下的用厕所纸撕成的碎片，也许还有写着球员的精致签名的纸片。那场比赛已经时隔多年，那个场面距离遥远，那些碎片却依然历历在目。 “这是我妻子。” “光顾我们这里的女性不多。”汤米说，仿佛是一名来自边远乡村大院的和尚，彬彬有礼，智慧洋溢。 “你见到任何人都应感到惊奇，坦白说，谁愿意到这里来呢？”马文问。“你至少应该把这里弄得稍微像样一点才行。” “像样一点。”这个词不错。“马文，你想一想，我这里是卖什么的？我这里不是小购物中心里出售居家用品的地方。” 他头脑敏锐，本来是讨人喜欢的，然而他的面孔并不显示年龄。这让马文觉得沮丧，因为他并不知道与自己对话的这个人究竟有多大岁数。 “你今天卖什么？” “两位是今天的第一批客人。” “别那么得意吧。” “我中午以后一直在这里。其他商铺开门时间非常晚。” “中午以后，一直没客人。” “见到女人，真的觉得有意思。”汤米说。 埃莉诺站在那里，一动不动，也许她的特殊身份已经让她部分瘫痪。 她说：“你就不能给人一点刺激，让他们购买你的东西？我并不是说，我需要刺激。” “刺激。”这个想法多么新颖。“依我所见，这刺激来自内心。这里的材料颜色褪去，皱成一团，没有什么审美兴趣。陈旧的纸张，这里全是这类东西。这里的顾客大都是冲着这种杂乱来的。他们觉得，这是他们参与的一段历史。” 马文告诉埃莉诺：“我从前一直以为，保留这些老东西的人——保留这些与棒球有关的东西的人——住在东部。我从前一直以为，只有东部的人才会记住相关的事情。汤米是我在匹兹堡以西发现的第一位收藏这些东西的人。” 汤米的笑容稍纵即逝，让人难以捉摸，只有用美国国家航空和航天局开发的生胶片才能拍摄下来。他的面孔在黑暗中飘浮，让马文产生一种强烈欲望，想要伸手去触摸它，想看一看它是否和他自己的类似，与他每天早上擦洗和剃须的脸庞类似。 “你找到那个人没有？”汤米问。 “我找到了那条船。那个人嘛，算了吧。” “你必须放弃它。” “这是谁在说话？” “你不可能准确地定位过去，马文。放弃吧，放手吧。这对你自己有好处。” “这是谁在说话？” “让自己解脱出来。”汤米说。 “你坐在这里，呼吸灰尘，就像什么塑像来着。” “骑马者。”埃莉诺说。 “公园里的骑马者塑像。” “没错。与你的相比，我的处境更不真实。你至少还可以四处溜达，我却静静地坐在这里，周围全是皱成一团的陈旧纸片。这里的一切包含着一种富于诗意的报复。” “什么报复？” 一丝笑意从汤米的嘴唇上飘过，就像蜂鸟的呼吸那样，非常微弱。 “流行文化对认真对待它的人施加的报复。” 这个说法立刻奏效。马文觉得，自己胸中有一种东西，那就像身穿宽松裤的朝鲜人，正在用手掌击打砖头。不过，他接着对自己说，我怎么可能不认真对待呢？不认真对待的是什么呢？还有什么东西让我更认真对待呢？如果我不想将世界上的巨大未知力量与自己生活中的某种强有力的东西结合起来，早上醒来又有什么意义呢？ 他知道，埃莉诺希望离开，知道她心里正在想：马文让家里的地下室保持整洁。 有一样东西他得预先买到。那是一个空盒子，像是被人遗忘，放在一个角落里，上面写着：斯伯丁全美职业棒球联盟正式比赛用球1号。多年以前，那个盒子曾经装着一个新棒球。他想暂时留着它，如果得到那个伤痕累累的棒球，就可以派上用场。 他走过去，准备付钱。墙上挂着一张照片：卡特总统和他的女儿——她叫什么来着？——站在白宫的玫瑰花园里，旁边是博比·汤姆森和拉尔夫·布兰卡，每个人的脸上露出紧张的笑容。 他们来到街道上。一个衣衫褴褛的女人推着一辆购物车，里面装着她的随身物品，似乎朝着一个具体的目标走去。是否有家人正在等候她？她是否正在走向未来？是否有人住在人们不知道的地方，拥挤在——那叫什么来着——基础设施的狭仄空间里？是否有人住在隧道里，住在大桥下？ “汤米生活在黑暗中，可是看上去非常开心。这是怎么一回事呢？” “走快点，马文。你是健康人，又没有生病。” “每天独自一人，待在那个地牢中。” “他有家吗，有孩子吗？” “我不知道。谁会问他呢？在纪念品收藏者的圈子里，人们不问这样的问题。” “你觉得他是否享受人们的基本生活方式拥有的那些舒适东西？” “你说的这个词语非常棒。” “他有没有一个小小的后院，每个夏天种一点泽西本地的西红柿呢？” “看他那样子，我觉得没有种西红柿的长相。” “他出差时会带着新娘吗？” 埃莉诺自有办法，可以让他觉得自己是受到命运眷顾的。她的做法是正确的，基本总是正确。他们种西红柿，办干洗店，居住的房子拥有宽敞的地下室，女儿没有什么偷偷摸摸的出墙举动，没有做出什么让他们感到烦恼的事情。反之，想一想汤米吧，半夜三更起来，在店铺里吃柬埔寨外卖。想一想阿夫拉姆吧，穿着高尔基式服装，每次洗澡都得劳神费力，拿着厨房的水龙头，到走廊尽头去使用。 他们发现，一家门面陈旧的廉价旅馆前，停着一辆空出租车。 不过，老实地说，步履蹒跚的其实是马文。马文是真正经常倒霉的人，心里总是觉得自己运气不济，身为道奇队粉丝的马文命中注定必然失败，方方面面的困扰令他不愿启齿。 一辆警车驶过，警笛鸣叫，发出循环不止的噪音，就像他们家厨房里的食品搅拌机——她总是抑止不了心里的强制性冲动，动手制作新鲜果汁。他俩觉得，从道德方面考虑，这样的饮料非喝不可。 已经到了考虑就寝的时间了。可是，他把她领到酒店顶层的豪华舞厅，那个小而舒适的房间里有一支小型爵士乐队。两人在那里一直玩到了午夜。 他们翩翩起舞，身体时而摇摆，时而倾斜。其实，算不上倾斜，仅仅停顿而已，它在形式上说明，这里应该做出身体倾斜的动作。他们喜欢跳舞，两人共舞时感觉美妙。他俩以前常常一起跳舞，不过后来忘记了，让那个习惯在岁月中慢慢消失了，就像忘记某种曾经非常喜欢的食物，例如，当初大受欢迎的奶油蛋糕。 她用手捋着他那耐火的头发。 马文紧紧地搂着她，脑海里冒出一种不信的感觉：他们即使有时可能一致，其实在许多方面相距甚远，可是竟然共同生活了这么多年。他知道，这种不信之感力量巨大，如果可以量度，它与被爱震撼的感觉完全相同。 可是，在他的内心深处，在不可名状的马文式思维中，依然存在着某种模糊不清的东西，让他深感不安。 后来，他们经过了舞厅的窗户，他放眼望去，看到了雾霭中海湾大桥射出的灯光，那条被遗弃的陈旧油轮安稳地停靠在锚位上，外观显得刺眼，远离其他船只。他挨个数到7号码头，发现幸运阿耳戈斯号船已经卸货完毕，离开码头，看见一个幽暗的影子以——那叫什么来着——最高速度，驶向黑夜，驶向深不可测的巨大危险。