Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Giant Boy

We must, at least temporarily, turn our attention away from the experimental feedlots, where the residual consequences are still spreading in circles.From the scorched but not completely eradicated center, the power of "giant" radiated through mushrooms and weeds.Nor are we going to mention here those two sad spinsters—how the two surviving hens did a sensational wonder and died with a reputation for not laying eggs.If the reader desires to know the fuller details of these matters, he may consult the papers of the time--the present day Chronicle of Angels, which is enormous and exhaustive.All I want to say here is Mr. Bensington, who was at the center of the disturbance.

He returned to London and found himself a huge celebrity.Overnight, the whole world respected him.Everyone knows.Sister Zhen also seemed to know everything, as did everyone on the street, and the newspapers knew even more.Of course I was afraid to see Sister Zhen when I came back, but after seeing her, I didn't think it was so scary anymore.The good woman's powers are also limited in the face of facts; it is clear that she has conditioned and accepted the divine food as a natural thing. She adopts a conscientious but irascible attitude.Obviously, she had absolutely no approval of it, but she didn't stop it.She must have considered Bensington's leaving without saying good-bye, and it might have shaken her too, but the worst of it was her constant complaints about his cold - which he didn't have; and his fatigue - which he had long since forgotten. tired.So, buy him a new health-promoting pure wool bodysuit.This underwear is always turned upside down and turned inside out, and it is really difficult for an absent-minded person to get into it--just as it is difficult for such a person to get into society.For some time, in the leisure these convenient arrangements afforded him, he continued to participate in the development of this new element in human history—the divine food.

The public mind, by its own inscrutable rules of selection, had chosen him as the sole inventor and promoter of this new miracle, and as for Redwood they would not even listen; Sal followed his own natural urges into terrible, creative retreats.Before he was aware of the trend, Mr. Bensington, so to speak, had been dissected and analyzed on the billboard walls.His baldness, his queer pink complexion, his gold-rimmed spectacles, all became the property of the state.A determined young man with a large, expensive-looking camera in his hand occupied his apartment with a sort of plenipotentiary air, for a brief but productive moment, pressing the flash, and making the place smelly for days A heavy intolerable smell, and go back, and fill the pages of the syndicated magazines with their admirable photographs—of Mr. Bensington in his best coat and torn shoes, all A look of peace and comfort.Other determined people of different ages and sexes came in by chance and told him something about "God Food"--the first thing Punch called it--and then, Their own words are reported as Bensington's contribution to this meeting.The incident upset Mr. Brobeam, who was a famous humorist.He sniffed yet another goddam thing he didn't understand, annoyed him like hell, and tried to "laugh this shit off".He was seen in clubs, with many signs of late nights on his heavy-looking, unhealthy big face, explaining to everyone he could catch: "These science guys, you know, have no sense of humor You know. That's what it is. Science kills the sense of humor." His jokes at Bensington turned into slurs.

[①"Punch": a British magazine of humor and satire. 】 A corporate clipping agency gave Mr Bensington a long article about him, clipped from a sixpence weekly, The New Horror, and promised to send him a hundred copies of the damn thing for him only. A Guinea He was visited by two very lovely young girls whom he did not know at all, and, to Miss Jane's utter indignation, they even had tea with him, and brought Ask him to sign his own birthday album.He quickly became accustomed to seeing his name associated with inappropriate concepts in publications, and to finding opinion articles written by people he had never heard of that referred to " God Food" used an extremely intimate tone when talking to him.Whatever cherished illusions he had had about the joys of fame in his obscurity, they were now absolutely and forever gone.

[① Guinea: British old gold coin unit, equal to shillings.It was named because it was originally cast with Guinea gold. 】 At first—with the exception of Brobeam—the tone of the public was not at all hostile.The public mind thought of nothing more than a joke that more horrors of Hercules were escaping again.At the same time, it does not occur to the general public that the babies who are being fed this kind of food will soon grow to be "bigger" than most of us.There is a satirical picture of eminent politicians after taking a "sacred" "divine food". Advertising posters also use this kind of concept of "spirituality" to draw special paintings, and they survived being burned. Inspiring exhibits of hornet carcasses and remnants of hens, such things delight the public to watch.

Apart from this, the public is unwilling to ask until a great effort is made to bring its eyes to the most remote consequences, and even then the enthusiasm for action is only partial. "There's always going to be a new east," said the public—people so full of novel ideas that they wouldn't be surprised to hear that the earth was ripped open like an apple, and would say, "I can't think of What will they do next." But there will always be one or two people outside the public who do look forward and seem horrified by what they see.For example, there is young Caterham, cousin of the Earl of Piutestone, one of the most promising statesmen in England, who, at the risk of being considered a fashionista, writes in Nineteenth Century and In the future, I wrote a long article, suggesting a comprehensive ban on divine food.And Bensington, who was in a certain mood, thought the same way.

"They don't seem to realize—" he told Cossar. "It was me, they couldn't." "What about ourselves? Sometimes, I think about what it means--that poor kid at Redwood--and, your three forty-footers, maybe! Anyway, should we go on like this?" "Go on!" Cossar yelled.Convulsed with unrefined amazement, his voice was higher than before. "Of course you're going to do it! What do you think you were born to do? Just wander around when you're full?" "Serious consequences," he cried, "of course! Absolutely, obviously. Obviously. Why, man, this is the only chance in your life for serious consequences! And you Want to escape it!" For a while, he was too angry to speak. "It's downright immoral!" he said at last, and repeated like an explosion, "Immorality!"

But Bensington's lab work was more about emotion than enthusiasm.He could not tell whether his life was going to have serious consequences; he was a man who loved peace.It was a miraculous find, of course, quite miraculous--but--he had become the owner of several acres of distrusted scorched earth near Hickriboro, at nearly ninety pounds an acre, and he sometimes I feel that, for an unambitious person, this is already a serious consequence of chemical speculation.Of course he was famous--too famous.The fame he had gained was no longer comfortable for him, the whole thing was too uncomfortable.

But the habit of study was strong in him. Sometimes—not many, mainly in the laboratory—he could find something other than his habits and Cossar's arguments to make him work.This little gentleman wearing glasses may have been poisoned by something. The cut shoe is wrapped around the stool leg, and the tweezers holding the scale weight are in his hand. Perception, would have a momentary comprehension again, beholding the eternal flowering of the seed sown in his mind, as in the sky, seeing the future behind all the grotesques and accidents of the present The emerging world of giants and all sorts of grand and powerful things--vague, but magnificent, like some distant palace gleaming in a passing ray of sunlight.But now, he can only work, as if the glorious scene in the distance has not reflected in his mind, in front, he can see nothing, there are only evil shadows, huge slopes and dark, indifferent big Creatures, cold, wild, scary things.

In the confusion of events, the impact of the great outside world has given Mr. Bensington his reputation.At this moment a luminous and active figure came to prominence--became, in Mr. Bensington's eyes, the leader and commander-in-chief of external affairs.This is Dr. Winkels, a convincing young practitioner who has already appeared in this story.Through him, Redwood was able to feed his son with the god food.Even before the eclipse was publicly revealed, the gentleman was apparently intrigued by the mysterious powder Redwood gave him.So when the first bumblebee appeared, it dawned on him.

He is a kind of doctor, no matter in terms of demeanor, moral character, method of doing things and appearance, he can be explained concisely and appropriately in two words: "prosperity".He was a big, well-built man, with stern, shrewd, superficial aluminum eyes, hair the color of plaster, well-proportioned features, muscle around a clean-shaven mouth, erect stature, and dynamic movements. Quick and turning on his heels, he wore a long coat, a black silk tie, solid gold buttons and chains, and a silk cap with a peculiarly shaped brim that made him look better than anyone else, wiser. some.It seems that his appearance is commensurate with his age.After the first miraculous public exposure of the Food, he assumed an air of convincing ownership of Bensington, Redwood, and the Food, which sometimes made him feel in spite of press statements to the contrary. Bensington could not help seeing him as the original inventor of the whole enterprise. "These incidents," said Winkles, when Bensington alluded to the danger of the future escape of the Food, "are nothing. Not worth it. Discovery is everything. Proper development, proper disposal, proper control, and we shall There is—in our God Food, we have something truly amazing. We have to keep an eye on it. We must never let it get out of control again, and we must never let it sit idle." He certainly didn't want to leave these things unused.He came to the Bensingtons almost every day now.Bensington, looking out, saw his immaculate carriage whip-cracking down Sloan Street, and after an incredibly short interval Winkles would go with a brisk movement. Entering the room, his voice filled the whole room at once.He produced some newspapers, provided information, and made comments. "Well," he'd say, rubbing his hands together, "how's our situation?" "Did you know," he'd say, "that Caterham talked about our stuff at the Church Society?" "For God's sake!" said Bensington, "he's the Prime Minister's cousin, isn't he?" "Yes," said Winkles, "he's a very powerful young man--very powerful. Wrong ideas, you know, violent reaction--but, downright powerful. He obviously wants to get some money from our Got some capital out of this thing. Taken a tough stance. Talked about our advocacy for using it in elementary schools—" "Our proposal for using it in elementary school?" "I was talking about this the other day - quite incidentally - at the technical school, a little bit. I just wanted to make it clear that this thing is really of great value. It's not dangerous at all, although it was originally There was an accident. There's no way it's going to happen again. You know it's going to be a good thing—but he grabbed the subject." "What did you say?" "Obviously didn't say anything. But you see--! Grabbed my words so seriously. Like an attack. Said that without this, the elementary school would have wasted the public quite a bit of money. Talk about opening pianos again." No one wants to prevent the children of the lower class from getting the education that suits their conditions, he said, but to give them such food, it must would terribly destroy their sense of self-containedness. He made a big splash on the subject. He asked people what good would it do to make the poor thirty-six feet tall? He really believed, you know, that they'd be thirty-six feet tall Woolen cloth." "They will," said Bensington, "if we give them our food regularly.But no one ever said anything—" "I said a little bit." "But, my dear Winkles—!" "They'll be bigger, of course," Winkles interrupted, looking as if he knew it all, scaring back Bensington's immature thoughts. "Don't argue, it'll be bigger. Listen to him, though! Will it make them happier? That's his argument. Strange, isn't it? Will it make them better? They'll Is it more respectful to legitimate authorities? Is it fair to the children themselves? It's strange that he's so worried about fairness--only as far as arrangements for the future are concerned. Even today, he said, the cost of feeding and clothing the children would have made it unaffordable for many parents, if such things were allowed-! eh? "You see, he turned a casual association of mine into a definite proposition. Then he calculated how much it would cost a pair of sleeves for a growing boy about twenty feet tall. As if he really believed it 'Ten quid, he calculated, was the bare minimum. Freak, this Caterham! So specific! He said the honest, hard-working taxpayers would have to pay for it. He said we'd have to think of a parent Bill of Rights. It's all here. Two columns, every parent has the right to bring up their children according to their size. "Then we talked about the school's housing equipment. Expenses for expansion and re-enlargement of desks will increase the burden on the already overwhelmed state schools. For what?--Proletariat of a hungry giant. The end is very serious. Or even this wild idea—it was just a figment of my imagination, you know, misunderstood like that—this wild idea of ​​a school that didn't work out, and it wasn't over. It's kind of weird food so strange he felt it was evil. It was thrown around without consideration - that's what he said - and it will be. Once you take it you have to keep taking it or it's It would be poisonous. ("That's it," said Bensington.) In short, he proposed organizing a 'National Association for the Preservation of the Proper Proportion of Things.' Strange? Huh? People were obsessed with the proposal, as they were with any proposal. .” "What do they propose to do?" Winkles shrugged and spread his hands. "Organize a society," he said, "and goof around. They're going to make it illegal to create the fear of Hercules--or to spread knowledge of it to any degree. I wrote something about Caterham's Opinions of this stuff are greatly exaggerated--really exaggerated, but that doesn't seem to deter them. It's strange how people are turning against it. By the way, the National Temperance Association has set up a 'restraint Growth branches'." "Well," said Bensington, touching his nose. "After all that's happened, there's bound to be this uproar. On the face of it, this thing is—is scary." Winkels paced the room for a while, hesitated, and left. It seemed obvious that there was something deep inside him, something decisive and important to him, and he was waiting for the moment to say it.One day, when Redwood was in the apartment with Bensington, he showed them a little of what he still had. "How's it going?" He rubbed his hands together. "We're working on a report together." "To the Royal Society?" "right." "Hmph!" Winkles groaned deeply, and walked towards the hearthrug. "Hmph. But—the point is, should you?" "Should—what?" "Should you publish it?" "We're not in the Middle Ages," Redwood said. "I know." "Exchanging wisdom, as Cossar said - that's the real scientific method." "In most cases, of course. But—this case is special." "We will take the whole situation to the Royal Society in the appropriate manner," Redwood said. On another occasion later, Winkles returned to the subject. "This is an exceptional discovery in many ways." "It doesn't matter," Redwood said. "This kind of knowledge is open to serious abuse—serious dangers, as Caterham says." Redwood said nothing. "Even negligence, you know—" "If we're going to form a committee of trustworthy people to control the production of 'God Eater'—I should say the Horror of Hercules—we might—" He stopped, and Redwood, with an uncomfortable feeling in his heart, pretended not to hear the question he was asking. Outside the residences of Redwood and Bensington, Winkles, despite knowing little, became a leading authority on "God Food."He wrote letters defending its use; he wrote short articles arguing for its possibilities; he jumped up and talked about it at meetings of scientific and medical associations; he identified himself with it.He printed a pamphlet entitled "The Truth About God's Food," in which he made a minimum estimate of the Hickoryboro affair, almost obliterating it.He said it was nonsense to think that "God Food" would make people thirty-seven feet tall.That's "clearly exaggerated."It does make people grow up, but that's all. In the closest circle of two persons, it was most evident that Winkles was extremely eager to help create the fear of Hercules, and to help to correct any possible references in the papers prepared to deal with the subject. Evidence--really, anything that might cause him to share in the morsels of Hercules-making horror.He's been telling them both that it's a "big thing" with enormous possibilities, if only they -- "keep it a little secret."Finally one day, he directly asked to tell him how to make it. "I've been thinking about your words," Redwood said. "How is it?" Winkels replied happily. "This type of knowledge is open to serious abuse," Redwood replied. "But I don't see how that's an answer," Winkels said. "It is," Redwood said. Winkles thought about it for a day.Then he came to Redwood and said he doubted whether he should be feeding Redwood's little boy powders he didn't understand; it seemed to him too unusual to take responsibility with black eyes.This made Redwood ponder. "You've seen the 'Comprehensive Phthalite Ban Society' claim it has several thousand members," Winkels changed the subject. "They've drafted a bill," Winkels said, "and they're asking Caterham Jr. to introduce it—of course he wants to. They're serious. They're organizing influential candidates for district council. They're going to make unlicensed Concocting, storing the fear of Hercules is a criminal offence, making the use of 'god food' - that's what they call it, you know - a felony with jail time and no accommodations to anyone under the age of twenty-one But there are also secondary associations, you know, everybody. The 'Society for the Preservation of Ancient Figures' says they're going to have Mr. Frederick Harrison in a meeting. You know he wrote a A treatise on the subject; to say that a revelation of human nature should be found in the earl's teachings is gross and utterly out of place. Such things would not have been produced even in the worst of the eighteenth century. About this food The notion of the Count never entered the Count's head—that's proof enough of how evil it is. No one, he said, really knew the Count." "But you don't mean to say—" Redwood became alarmed out of contempt for Winkles. "They'll do all that," Winkels said, "but opinion is opinion and votes are votes. Anyone can see you're going to mess up. And the whole human instinct is against mess, you know. No one believed Caterham's story that people thirty-seven feet tall couldn't even get into churches, council halls, and social and human organizations. Even so, it was hard to accept. .They saw something, an extraordinary discovery—" "Yes," Redwood said, "in every discovery." "Anyway, they got—out of control. Caterham kept babbling about what would happen if they escaped again. I kept saying no, no way. And—it Right here!" He was jumping up and down the room.After jumping for a while, it seemed that he wanted to bring up that secret topic again, then he thought it over a little bit, didn't mention it, and left. The two scientific figures stared at each other for a moment, only their eyes were talking. "If things go from bad to worse," said Redwood at last, in a calm, forceful voice, "I'll feed my little Teddy the God Food with my own hands." Only a few days later, Redwood opened the newspaper and saw that the Prime Minister promised to organize a royal inquiry to examine "God Food".This made him rush to the Bensington's at once, newspaper in hand. "I believe Winkles is sabotaging it. He's doing exactly what Caterham wants. He's talking about it all the time, talking about what it does, and putting people on alert. If he keeps going like this, I really believe he's going to get in our way." Research. Just now—with the trouble of my little boy—” Bensington hoped Winkle hadn't done that. "Did you notice how he called it 'God Food'?" "I don't like the name," Bensington glanced over his glasses. "The name fits right—for Winkles." "Why does he keep staring at this? It's not his!" "It's because of this thing called 'developed,'" Redwood said. "I don't understand. It's not his, but everybody's thinking it's his. Now it's working." "This ignorant, absurd agitation is getting -- serious," Bensington began. "My little guy can't stand without it," Redwood said. "I don't see what to do. If it gets worse—" A slight bouncing sound announced the arrival of Winkles.He appeared in the middle of the room, rubbing his hands. "I wish you would knock," said Bensington, looking maliciously over his spectacles. Winkels apologized.Then he turned to Redwood. "Glad you're here," he began, "the truth is—" "Did you see the news of the Royal Inquiry?" Redwood interrupted him. "Look," said Winkles again, "look." "how do you feel?" "Excellent," said Winkles, "will stop the uproar and change the whole thing. Shut up Caterham. But that's not what I'm here for, Redwood. The truth is— " "I don't like this royal inquiry," Bensington said. "I assure you, everything will be fine. I can say - and I don't think it's a breach of trust - that it's likely that I will have a place on this investigative team." "Oh—well," said Redwood, looking at the fire. "I can put the whole thing in order, I can make it clear. First, it's manageable; and second, except by a miracle, there's never going to be another Hickoryboro catastrophe." Yes. That's just what's needed, an authoritative assurance. Of course, I could speak more confidently if I knew--but that's just incidental. There's something else at the moment, another little thing, I want to ask for your opinion. Ahem. The fact is—well—I happen to have a little difficulty, and you can help me." Redwood raised his eyebrows, secretly pleased. "The thing is—highly confidential." "Go on," said Redwood, "don't worry about it." "I was recently entrusted with a child--a child--the child of a very noble man." Winkles coughed. "You go on," Redwood said. "I will admit that chiefly because of your powders—the success with your little ones has made me famous—there is a strong sentiment against its use, and I will not pretend. But I am also the most knowledgeable This sentiment is found among the people of the world - one has to keep silent in such matters, you know - bit by bit. But, in this case, Her Royal Highness - I mean I little patient. Actually—advice from her parents. Otherwise, I would never—” His embarrassment caught Redwood's attention. "I thought you were skeptical about the wisdom of using this powder," Redwood said. "Just a fleeting suspicion." "You're not proposing to interrupt—" "You little kid? Of course not!" "As far as I know, that would be a form of murder." "I would never do that." "You can get powdered medicine," Redwood said. "I guess you can't—" "Don't be afraid," said Redwood, "there's no secret recipe. It's no good, Winkels, please be frank with me. I'll make the powder for you myself." "Yeah, maybe—" Winkles said, looking hard at Redwood for a moment—"Yeah," and then, "I can assure you I really don't give a damn." After Winkles had gone, Bensington came and stood on the hearth rug looking down at Redwood. "Your Highness," he said. "Your Highness!" said Redwood. "This is Wesser Dreberg's princess!" "The thirtieth cousin of the current king." "Redwood," said Bensington, "is a curious thing, I know, but—do you think Winkles really understands?" "understand what?" "What we've made," said Bensington in a low voice, looking at the door. "He really knows in that family—his new patient's family." Go on," said Redwood. "There, if anything is a little bit low--below--" "Average standard?" "Yes. So he's going to make a royal in every way very tactful and imperceptible--a royal with a size--that's the size. You know, Redwood, I'm not sure. , would it be close to—rebellious.” His eyes moved to Redwood. Redwood waved his hand in a short gesture—stretched index finger—to the fire. "For God's sake!" he said, "he doesn't know." "That guy," said Redwood, "knows nothing. As a student, that's the most annoying thing about him. Bullshit. Passed all the exams, got all the facts in the books—his knowledge Just as much as a revolving bookshelf with the Encyclopedia of the Times. But now he doesn't understand anything. He's just Winkles, and anything that doesn't have an immediate immediate effect on his superficial ego, He couldn't assimilate it. He was so terribly unimaginative that the result was that he couldn't acquire knowledge. Had it not been for such an absolutely incompetent man, he wouldn't have passed so many exams, dressed so well, lived so well, and become a doctor. He's been so successful. He's seen a lot, heard a lot, we've told him a lot, and look at him—he's got no idea what he's doing. He's gone Wake up, he didn't use 'God Food' in vain, someone took him to this new royal baby - which made him even more 'fat' than ever! In fact, Wessey Dreberg was soon Not only did he not contemplate that he would be confronted with the enormous problem of a thirty-foot princess, but he couldn't—impossibly." "There's going to be a terrible uproar," said Bensington. "About a year." "As long as they really see that she's growing up in the first place." "Unless it's their style to keep it secret." "It's too big to hide from people." "No!" "I don't know what they're going to do?" "What they never do - royal slickness." "They've got to do something." "Maybe she will." "My God! Yes." "They'll hold her down. It's happened before." Redwood burst out laughing. "Flourishing royal family, bouncing iron-masked babies!" said he, "They'll have to put her in the tallest tower of Wesser Dreberg Castle, and when she's a story high, they'll make a hole in the ceiling! Well, I'm in the same predicament Middle. And Cossar and his three sons. And—ah, alas." 【① Baby in the Iron Mask: In Alexandre Dumas's novel "The Man in the Iron Mask", it is described that King Louis XIV of France covered his elder brother with an iron mask and imprisoned him for life. 】 "There's going to be a terrible row," repeated Bensington, without laughing along. "A terrible row." "I suppose," he argued, "that you've really thought the matter through, Redwood. Don't you think it would be wiser to: warn Winkles to wean your son off gradually?" Food, and—and content with theoretical achievements?” "I really think it would be nice if you'd spent half an hour in my nursery and see how the food came a little late," Redwood said, in a slightly agitated voice, "and you wouldn't talk like that." Yes, Bensington. And again—wanted to warn Winkles! No! The current has caught us unwittingly, and whether we are frightened or not—we must swim through!" "I suppose so." Bensington stared at his toes. "right".We have to swim across.Your son will swim there too, and the Kosar kids - he feeds three at once.Cossar never does half things - all or nothing!And Her Royal Highness.And everything.We're going to keep making God Food.So is Cossar.We're just getting started, Redwood.Obviously, all kinds of stuff will follow.Huge weird stuff.But I can't picture them, Redwood.Apart from--" He studied his nails carefully.He lifted his dazed eyes and looked at Redwood through the glasses. "I sort of feel," he said tentatively, "that Cadyham is right. When the time comes, it will upset the proportions of things. It will disturb--what will it disturb?" "No matter what it's messing with," Redwood said, "my kids have to have God Food." They heard someone running quickly upstairs.Then Cossar poked his head in. "Hello!" Seeing their expressions, he asked, "What's the matter?" They told him about the princess. "Difficult?" he commented. "Not at all. She's going to grow up. Your kids are going to be growing up. All of you who've given God Food will be growing up. All are going to grow up. Everything's the same. What's the problem? It's fine. Three years old Children know it. What's wrong?" They wanted to explain it to him. "No more feeding?" he cried. "But--! You can't stop now. That's what you do. That's what Winkles does. It's so good. Keeps trying to figure out Winkles." What did Erles do. It's obvious now. What's the trouble? "Disruption? It's obvious. Turn the world upside down? It's going to turn the world upside down. Ultimately - change the relationship of all human beings. It's too clear.. They will try to stop it, but it's too late. It's them who are too late. You go ahead and expand as much as possible. Thank God Put you to a use!" "But conflict!" said Bensington. "Pressure! I don't know if it occurred to you—" “你该是个什么小草儿才对，本辛顿，”科萨尔说——“你就该是那么种东西。长在假山上的那种。可是却那么可怕地、神奇地成了现在你这个样子，而你却认为你生来只为坐着吃饭。你觉得这个世界造出来就只是为的让老娘儿们拿拖把擦吗？哼，不管怎样，你们现在没有办法了，你们只能干下去。” “我想也是，”雷德伍德说，“慢慢地——” “不行！”科萨尔吼道。“不行！尽你们的力量，多造，快造。散布出去！” 他灵机一动，模拟着雷德伍德的一条曲线，大大地向上挥动一条手臂。 “雷德伍德，”他点明自己的用意，“要这个样子。” 母性的自豪似乎有个上限，当雷德伍德太太的骨肉完成了在地球上第六个月的存在，压坏了他的高级儿童车，哇哇喊叫着被一辆送牛奶车推回家时，她算是达到这个上限了。小雷德伍德当时体重五十九磅半，身高四十八英寸，握力差不多六十磅。当时由厨师和女仆把他搬到楼上育儿室。在这之后，事情的暴露仅仅是时间问题了。一个下午，雷德伍德从实验室回家，发现他的不幸的妻子正在专心致志看着《强有力的原子》里面迷人的故事，一见到他便扑上来，贴住他的肩膀大哭了起来。 “告诉我，你对他做了什么？”她哭叫道。“告诉我，你都干了些什么。”雷德伍德握着她的手，把她领到沙发上坐下，一边极力在想出一个令人满意的辩解。 “不要紧，亲爱的，”他说，“不要紧。你只是太累了一点。不过是那个车子不结实。我已经找了个给病人做活动椅子车的人明天带点结实的材料来——”雷德伍德太太从手绢上面眼泪汪汪地看着他。 “一个娃娃坐病人椅子车？”她啜泣着。 “唔，干吗不？” “像上瘸子。” “像个小巨人呢，亲爱的，你没有理由为他害羞。” “你对他做了点什么，丹迪②！”她说，“我从你脸上看得出来。” 【② 丹迪：雷德伍德的爱称。 】 “就算是吧，不管怎么样，也没挡住他长呀，“雷德伍德无情地说。 “我知道了，”雷德伍德太太把手绢攥成了一个球。她突然严肃地看着他，问道：“你对我们的孩子做了什么了，丹迪？” "What's the matter with him?" “长这么大。成个怪物了。” “瞎说。他又正常又干净，像任何女人有过的孩子一样，他怎么啦？” “瞧他的个子。” “那好嘛。看看别的那些又小又弱的小畜生！他是个最好的孩子——” “太好啦，”雷德伍德太太说。 “不会老这样长的，”雷德伍德安慰她说，“这不过是开始罢了。” 可是他心里一清二楚，会这样长下去的。 事情也的确如此。等娃娃十二个月蹒跚学步时，就长到了只差一英寸就够五英尺了，体重八点三①；事买上，他正像圣彼得的《在梵蒂冈》中的小天使像，他对客人的头发和脸的友好的抓挠成了西坎新顿人们的话题。他们搞了一个残废人椅子把他从育儿室搬上搬下，他的专门保姆，一个刚受完训练的肌肉发达的年轻人，总是带着他坐在一辆为他订制的八马力的潘哈牌爬山车中出去透空气。多亏雷德伍德除了教授资格外还有些个聪明熟练的关系人。 【① 英国重量名，常用来表示体重，等于磅。 】 人们告诉我说，他们几乎每天都看见小雷德伍德慢慢地在海德公园里踉踉跄跄地走着。当你对他的身量吃惊过后。便会看出他是个挺聪明漂亮的孩子。他很少哭，也不大要人哄。一般他总是抓着个拨浪鼓，有时他一边走着，一边讨人喜欢没有架子地冲着栏杆外面的公共汽车司机和警察喊“大大！”、 "dad!" “瞧那个吃'神食'的大娃娃，”公共汽车司机总是说。 “瞧着挺结实，”前面的乘客这样评论。 “奶瓶子喂的，”司机会解释说，“他们说奶瓶是为他特制的，一瓶能装一加仑呢。” “不管怎么说，非常健康，”坐在前面的乘客会这样下结论。 等雷德伍德太太意识到他真是在合乎逻辑地没有限制地长着——那摩托幼儿车来到时，她第一次真的意识到了——她禁不住悲伤激动起来。她声确她绝不要再进育儿室了，她希望自己死了才好，她希望那孩子死了才好，希望个个人都死了才好，希望她从没嫁给雷德伍德，希望从来就没有任何人嫁给过任何人。她捶胸顿足闹了一小会便回自己屋去，在里面呆了三天，几乎全靠仔鸡汁维持生命。等雷德伍德来劝慰时，她摔打枕头，痛哭流涕，把头发搞得乱作一团。 “他挺好嘛”雷德伍德说，“他长得大不更好吗。要是比别人家的孩子小，你不会喜欢他的。” “我要他跟别的孩子一样，也不要小，也不要大。我要他是个好孩子，就像乔治亚娜·菲莉斯是个挺好的小姑娘一样，我要好好地把他带大，可是，他现在，”——这个不幸的女人声音嘶裂了——“穿着大人的四号鞋子，坐着车子满处转——嘀嘀！——要用汽油！” “我绝不会喜欢他了，”她哭喊道。“绝不会！我受不了！我绝不会做他的妈妈了，我本想做的！” 最后，大家想办法把她弄到了育儿室，爱德华·蒙逊·雷德伍德（“潘达格鲁①”是后来才有的绰号）正在一个特别加固的摇椅里摇着，一边笑，一边“古”、“乌”地说话。一见她的孩子，雷德伍德太太的心重又温暖起来，她过去把他搂在怀里，哭个不停。 【① 潘达格鲁：法国小说家拉伯雷作品中的人物，后借以表示过分挖苦的幽默。 】 “他们治你啦，”她啜泣着，“你会长了又长，乖乖，不论什么事，只要我能把你好好带大，我就会为你做，不管你爸爸怎么说。” 雷德伍德刚才帮着把她弄到这里来，一见这样子，便安心地下去了。 （唉！作为一个男人，像这样对待女人，不是有点卑鄙吗！） 这一年还没有过完，除了雷德伍德打先锋的那辆车之外，在伦敦西区可以看见又加上了好些辆摩托婴儿车。我听说有十一辆之多；不过，当时在城区最仔细的调查，只得到六辆的可靠证据。似乎神食这东西对不同类型的体质起着不同的作用。最初，赫拉克里士之恐惧还没有用于注射，而且无疑地，有相当可观的一部分人不能通过正常的消化过程吸收这种物质。例如，温克尔斯最小的孩子服用了，可是却似乎不能长个子，就像——如果雷德伍德说得对的话——他的父亲不能长知识一样。还有些别的孩子，照全面查禁“神食”协会的说法、不可解释地因为服用神食而坏了事，得儿科病死了。科萨尔的儿子们对它却贪吃得要命。 当然，这样一种东西应用于人类生活，从来不是真正简单的：生长尤其是个复杂的问题，所有的概括都总得有一点不准确。不过，神食的一般规律是这样：只要它能被吸收进人体，不论经由何种途径，在所有的情况下，它的刺激作用都非常接近于同一程度。它增大生长量六至七倍，却不超出这个限度，不管你怎么加大神食的剂量也不成，人们发现超出必要的最小量的赫拉克里士之恐惧，将导致营养作用之病态紊乱、癌瘤、骨化现象，以及诸如此类的病变。一旦大幅度生长开始，很快就可以明显看出它只能以这种幅度继续下去，而且，绝对必须继续服用微小的，但却足够剂量的赫拉克里士之恐惧。 如果在生长时期中断神食，那么，便会开始有一种烦燥和难受，接着便是一段时期的贪食——正像像汉基的幼小老鼠一样——接着那个正在生长的东西便会严重贫血、病倒以至死亡。 植物受罪的情形也差不多。这种情况只出现在生长期中。一经达到青春期——植物的标志是第一个花蕾的形成——对赫拉克里士之恐惧的需要量和胃口便会减少；完全成年后，便完全不再需要继续供应了。它就像应当的那样，完全在一个新的规模上确立了起来。它是如此完全地在一个新的规模上确立了起来，以致希克里勃罗附近的蓟和低地的草已经表明它们的籽也已产生出巨大的后代。 现在，小雷德伍德，这个新种族的先锋，这个最早吃神食的孩子，正在育儿室里爬着，捣破家具，像马一样地咬，像虎钳一样夹，冲着他的“姆姆”和“妈咪”，还有他那吓得够呛的“爸爸”吼着他那些孩子话——都是这个“爸爸”干的好事。 孩子天生心眼儿好。他总是一边扔着可以打碎的东西。一边说，“潘达乖，乖。”潘达是他对爸爸给他取的小名潘达格鲁的叫法。 科萨尔呢，由于不顾关于老窗户的法律①，发生了一点麻烦，他在跟当地建筑条例作了一番斗争之后，在雷德伍德家附近的一边空地上，为他们的四个孩子建起了一座舒适而照明良好的房子，同时做游戏室、教室和育儿室——这间房有六十平方英尺大，四十英尺高。 【① 英国法律，0年以上的老窗户外禁止建筑房屋挡其光线。 】 在跟科萨尔一起修建时，雷德伍德爱上了这间房，他对曲线的兴趣在儿子的迫切需要之前淡薄了，这是他过去做梦也料想不到的。 “要配齐一间育儿室，”他说，“还得好多东西呢。好多呢。” “墙壁和房里的东西都会对我们的孩子讲话，或许有力量，或许没有多少力量，它们能教他们大量东西，或许教不了，这就全看我们啦。” “明摆着的，”科萨尔匆匆忙忙伸手去拿帽子。 他们和谐地一同工作着，不过雷德伍德提供了绝大部分需要的教育理论。 他们把墙壁和木制门窗等漆上了生气勃勃的快活颜色，其绝大部分是种流行的、微带暖调的白色，还有一条条明亮洁净的颜色来突出建筑的线条。 “我们必须用洁净的颜色，”雷德伍德说，而在一处平放着一排整齐的方块，深红、绛紫、桔黄、柠檬黄、各种蓝色和绿色，浓淡色调各各不同。巨童门可以随意安排改变这些方块。 “还必须要有装饰，“雷德伍德说，“让他们先认识各种颜色，然后这些都可以拿开。没有偏爱任何一种特定的颜色和设计的理由。” 接着，“这地方必须富有趣味，”雷德伍德说，“趣味是儿童的食物，空虚则是刑罚和饥饿。他们得有大量图画。” 屋里没有悬挂任何固定的图画，但是备有空画框，里面的画可以更换，一旦兴趣消失，便取下收起来。 有个窗户可以看到街上，雷德伍德又设计了一个相机镜头式观望镜安在房顶上面，可以望见坎新顿大街和花园的相当大的部分。 在一个角上，一个最有价值的器具——四英尺见方的算盘，是件经过特制加固、四角弄圆了的铁家伙，在等待年幼的巨人开始学计算。这里没有什么毛绒绒的小羊和那一类的玩偶作为代替。一天，科萨尔未经解释地运来了装满三辆四轮大车的玩具（都刚好大得使那些要到这里来的孩子吞不下去），它们都可以堆放，可以排列成行，能滚能咬，经摔经敲，可以拍打推倒，里外乱翻，打开关上，能够经受一定程度的种种破坏性实验。这里面有许多不同颜色的木砖，矩形的和立方的，还有亮瓷砖、透明玻璃砖、橡皮砖、还有薄片、石板；有圆椎、柜台和管子；有两端缩进去的扁球和两端拉出来的长球，这些球什么质料的都有，有的实心、有的空心；还有许多不同大小和形状的盒子，有的盒盖安了合页，有的用螺钉，有的是密配合盖，还有一两个是卡盖；有弹性的韧带和皮带，还有一堆粗糙结实的小东西，拼起来是个站着的人形。 “给他们这些，”科萨尔说，“一次给一样。” 雷德伍德把这些东西锁在房角上的柜子里。沿一面墙，在一个六到八英尺高的孩子方便的高度，挂着块黑板，小家伙们可以用白粉笔和颜色粉笔在上面乱画，附近还有块画板，上面的纸可以一张张撕下来，用炭笔在上面画；还有一张小课桌，上面放着各种硬度的木匠用的大铅笔和大量纸张，孩子们可以在上面由乱画学着画得整齐些。此外，雷德伍德的想象走得这么远，已经预订了特制大号管装液体颜料和盒装蜡笔，以备孩子们日后之需。他在一个桶里放上了胶泥和制模型用的粘土。 “开始的时候，他可以和教师一起做，他说，“等熟练了，就可以仿制模型，或许仿制动物。啊，说到这儿我想起来了，我还得为他去弄一盒子工具！ “还有图书。我得去找些书放在他身边，都得是些大书。他需要些什么书呢？他的想象力应当给以满足。这个，总而言之，是各种教育的王冠。这个是王冠——正像思想和行为的牢固习惯是宝座一样。完全没有想向力就是野蛮；低等的想象力只是肉欲和怯懦；而高尚的想象力则如同上帝重又在地球上行走。到适当的时候也必须梦想优美的仙境和生活中所有令人喜爱的小东西。但是，他必须主要被教以辉煌的现实；要有漫游世界的故事，旅行和历险的故事，人如何战胜自然的故事；要有各种野兽的故事；要有出色清晰的，关于飞禽走兽、树木藤萝的大书，关于莫测高深的天空和神秘奥妙的海洋的大书；他还要有世上所曾有过的所有王国的历史和地图，要有所有部落的故事和人们风俗习惯的图片。他得有书籍和图画来加速美感的形成，维妙维肖的日本画使他们热爱小鸟、草叶和落花的精巧的美，也要有西方的画，关于优美的男子与妇人，关于可爱的聚会，关于大地与海洋的广阔景象。他得有关于建造房屋和宫殿的书，要使他设计房屋和规划城市——” “我想还得给他一所小剧场。” “这样就有了音乐！” 雷德伍德又想了一下，决定他的儿子最好先从一把音色纯净的八度音阶口琴开始，以后可以再发展嘛。 “他得先学会这个，照它唱，唱得出每个音符，”雷德伍德说，“以后呢他看着头顶上方的窗台，用眼睛度量着屋子的大小。 “得让他们在这里给他造钢琴，”他说，“一点点搬进来造。” 在准备中，他，一个沉思的暗黑的小身影，忙得满屋乱转。如果你们能够看见他在那里的样子，你会觉得他只像是在普通大小的育儿室杂物中的一个十英寸高的小人。一块大地毯——真的，是块土耳其地毯——四巨平方英尺，是预备给小雷德伍德在上面爬的——一直伸到有铁格栅栏护住的取暖用电炉前。一个科萨尔的工人悬在半空，在给那些暂时的画安装大框子。一本植物标本的吸墨纸大书足有房门那么大，靠墙放着，从中伸出一根大茎和叶子边，还有一朵繁缕花，都是巨型的，它们不久就将使乌夏的名声传遍植物学界。 雷德伍德站在这些东西之中，心中不禁升起一片疑云。 “如果真是照这样长下去——他凝望着高高的天花板。 “好像回答他的问题，从远处传来一个声音，像是狂欢的公牛在吼叫。 “是会照这样长下去的，”雷德伍德说，“显然的。” 接着是敲击一张桌子的声音，接着又是一个极大的吼声，“咕哝！啵嗦！啵兹！” “我能做到的最好的事情，”雷德伍德跟着说出心里的另一个念头，“是我亲自教他。” 敲打声更加响了。雷德伍德一时觉得好像在接着一个发动机有规律的震动的节奏——他觉得这像是某些一系列的巨大事件的发动机在向他压来。接着，一阵更尖的敲打声，打破了刚才的幻觉，这敲打声在不断地重复着。 “进来，”他发现有人敲门，便喊道。 那扇大得像大教堂的门，慢慢地开了一点。新铰链不响了，本辛顿从门缝里出现，在突出的秃顶之下，在眼镜的上边，他的眼睛在仁爱地发着光。 “我冒险过来看看，”他机密地鬼鬼祟祟地轻轻说。 “进来，”雷德伍德说。 本辛顿走了进来，随手带上了门。 他向前走，双手背在背后，走了几步，用一个鸟儿似的动作看看周围的房间，沉思地搓着下巴。 “每次我来，”他压低声音说，“都觉得吃惊——'大'呀。” “是的，”雷德伍德又环顾一遍，好象想保持视觉印象。“是这样。他们也会是大的，你知道。” “我知道，”本辛顿的口气几乎近于敬畏了。“非常之大。”他们几乎是会意地互相看看。 “确实非常之大，”本辛顿摸着鼻梁，一只眼怀疑地看着雷德伍德，等他给一个证实的表情。“他们全体。你知道，大得可怕。我都觉得想象不出来——即使是在这间屋子里——他们会要长到多么大。”