The room in which Mason lived was quiet, but had its own gentle pulse, the mile and sigh of the respirator feeding Mason.The room is very dark, only the huge fish tank is brightly lit.There is a foreign moray eel in the tank, turning around, drawing a figure 8 that can never be drawn, and casting a shadow like a black belt shaking in the room.
Mason's braided hair hung like scales over the respirator shell, covering his chest.One end of the bed was raised, and a set of pipes hung in front of his face, like a shepherd panting.
Mason's long tongue stuck out from behind his teeth, curled around the final tube, and blew with the respirator's next breath.
The voice on the wall microphone immediately replied, "What is it, sir?"
"I want "Gossip News." The lip tone in the words could not be pronounced, but the voice was deep and sonorous, like the one on the radio.
"The first page is..."
"You don't need to read, use the reflector to project." There is no lip sound in Gou Sen's words.
The large screen of an elevated monitor rattled. The red masthead of the Gossip appeared, and the fluorescent blue-green turned pink.
"Angel of Death, Clarice Starling, the CIA's killing machine." Mason recited after three slow breaths from the respirator.He can zoom in on the illustration screen.
He had only one hand sticking out of the sheet.It moved, got up; crawled like a gray-white spider crab.More by the movement of the fingers than by the strength of the emaciated arm.Mason couldn't quite turn his head to see, and only relied on his thumb, ring finger, and little finger to push his index and middle fingers forward like antennae.That hand found the remote, with which he could zoom the camera and turn pages.
Mason read very slowly.The goggle on his only eye hissed softly twice a minute, spraying moisture onto his blind eyeball, often blurring the lens.It took him 20 minutes to read the main article and the sidebar articles.
"Put in the x-rays," he said after he finished reading.
Huge x-rays must be displayed clearly on the monitor.A moment later a human hand appears, apparently injured.Another shot, showing the hand and the whole arm.The arrow attached to the x-ray points to an old cleft in the humerus between the elbow and the shoulder.
Mason looked at the camera and took several breaths. "Project the letter," he said at last.
The fine print appeared on the screen, magnified and grotesque.
Dear Clarice, read Mason, I have watched with enthusiasm your humiliation and public humiliation... The rhythm of the voice stimulated Mason's memories of the past, which haunted him and haunted his soul. Bed and room, tearing open the scars of dreams he couldn't tell, driving his heart to beat faster than he could breathe.The respirator realized his agitation and accelerated the rate of air delivery to his lung lobes.
He read the letter at his painful speed on the running machine, as if on horseback.He couldn't close his eyes, but after reading he turned his attention away from the back of his eyes and thought for a moment as the breather slowed down.Then he blew on the pipe.
"Yes, sir."
"Contact Congressman Filmer. Give me headphones and turn on the speakerphone."
"Clarice Starling," he said the next time the machine allowed him to speak, and he had a problem with the plosive in saying the name, but he coped well enough to get all the sounds out.He dozed off for a while while waiting for the call.Kaitsu's shadow crawled on his quilt, face and coiled hair.
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Notes: