“Looking good, chief,” said his marketing head. “I’m doing breakfast with the buyers from all the leading supermarket chains tomorrow. No problem. We’ll have MEALS in all the stores this time next month.”
“进展顺利，老板。”他的市场部经理说，“我明天要跟所有主要连锁超市的采购员们吃早饭。没问题。下个月就能让‘饭’进入所有店铺。”
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“进展如何？”他问。
Raven Sable, slim and bearded and dressed all in black, sat in the back of his slimline black limousine, talking on his slimline black telephone to his West Coast base.
雷文·塞布尔身材修长，留着胡子，穿一身黑西装。他正坐在修长的黑色豪华轿车后座上，用修长的黑色电话跟集团西海岸总部联系。
“Good work, Nick.”
“干得好，尼克。”
“Thank you,” said Sable, and he broke the connection.
“谢谢。”塞布尔说完便挂断电话。
He was particularly proud of MEALS®.
饭特别让他骄傲。
Two years of Newtrition investment and research had produced CHOW. CHOW® contained spun, plaited, and woven protein molecules, capped and coded, carefully designed to be ignored by even the most ravenous digestive tract enzymes; no-cal sweeteners; mineral oils replacing vegetable oils; fibrous materials, colorings, and flavorings. The end result was a foodstuff almost indistinguishable from any other except for two things. Firstly, the price, which was slightly higher, and secondly the nutritional content, which was roughly equivalent to that of a Sony Walkman. It didn’t matter how much you ate, you lost weight. [And hair. And skin tone. And, if you ate enough of it long enough, vital signs.]
两年前，新营养集团投资研发出“食品”。食品中含有改良重组的蛋白质分子，通过精心设计，编排编制编织成了就连最贪吃的消化系统酶也完全视而不见的物质。还有无热量甜味剂、纤维原料、染色剂和调味品。就连植物油都被矿物油取代。最终成品和其他厂商的产品几乎无法区分，只有两点不同。第一，价格比同类产品略高。第二，营养成分大致相当于一台索尼随身听。不管你吃多少，体重都会减少。（还有头发。还有肤色。如果你吃得够多够久，那么还有生命迹象。）
“No problem. No problem. It’s knowing you’re behind us, Rave. You give great leadership, guy. Works for me every time.”
“哪里哪里。这是因为有你在背后支持我们，雷文。你总能为我们指引正确的方向。每次都让我获益匪浅。”
The Newtrition corporation had started small, eleven years ago. A small team of food scientists, a huge team of marketing and public relations personnel, and a neat logo.
新营养集团十一年前白手起家，依靠几个食品科学家、大量市场和公共关系人员以及一个简洁的商标，一直走到今天。
MEALS® was Sable’s latest brainwave.
饭是塞布尔最新的灵感。
Fat people had bought it. Thin people who didn’t want to get fat had bought it. CHOW® was the ultimate diet food — carefully spun, woven, textured, and pounded to imitate anything, from potatoes to venison, although the chicken sold best.
胖子买它，不想变胖的瘦子也买它。食品成为终极减肥食品。它通过精心制造、加工、捣碾、塑形，可以仿制成任何食物，从土豆到鹿肉不一而足，不过还是鸡肉卖得最好。
MEALSD was CHOWN) with added sugar and fat. The theory was that if you ate enough MEALS® you would a) get very fat, and b) die of malnutrition.
饭是加入糖和脂肪的食品。理论上，如果你饭吃得够多，就会：1）变得很胖；2）死于营养不良。
Sable sat back and watched the money roll in. He watched CHOW® gradually fill the ecological niche that used to be filled by the old, untrademarked food.
塞布尔坐下来，看着钞票滚滚而来。他看着食品最终取代了没商标的老式食品在生态环境中的位置。
He followed CHOWS with SNACKS® junk food made from real junk.
在食品之后，他推出了“快餐”——用真正的垃圾制造出的垃圾食品。
MEALS® were currently being tested all over America. Pizza MEALS, Fish MEALS, Szechuan MEALS, macrobiotic rice MEALS. Even Hamburger MEALS.
饭正在全美进行测试。比萨饭、鱼肉饭、川菜盖饭、长寿大米饭。甚至包括汉堡饭。
Sable’s limousine was parked in the lot of a Des Moines, Iowa, Burger Lord — a fast food franchise wholly owned by his organization. It was here they’d been piloting Hamburger MEALS for the last six months. He wanted to see what kind of results they’d been getting.
塞布尔的豪华轿车停在爱荷华州得梅因市一家汉堡王的停车场。这家快餐连锁企业完全由他的集团掌控。他们已经在这里进行了六个月的汉堡饭试营。他想看看结果如何。
The paradox delighted Sable.
这个悖论让塞布尔欣喜若狂。
“Sir?”
“先生？”
He leaned forward, tapped the chauffeur’s glass partition. The chauffeur pressed a switch, and the glass slid open.
塞布尔探过身去，敲了敲司机身后的玻璃隔板。司机按下一个开关，玻璃随即滑开。
“I’m going to take a look at our operation, Marlon. I’ll be ten minutes. Then back to L. A.”
“我要去看看咱们的运营状况，马龙。大概十分钟。然后就回洛杉矶。”
Sir.
“是，先生。”
Sable sauntered in to the Burger Lord. It was exactly like every other Burger Lord in America. [But not like every other Burger Lord across the world. German Burger Lords, for example, sold lager instead of root beer, while English Burger Lords managed to take any American fast food virtues (the speed with which your food was delivered, for example) and carefully remove them; your food arrived after half an hour, at room temperature, and it was only because of the strip of warm lettuce between them that you could distinguish the burger from the bun. The Burger Lord pathfinder salesmen had been shot twenty-five minutes after setting foot in France.] McLordy the Clown danced in the Kiddie Korner. The serving staff had identical gleaming smiles that never reached their eyes. And behind the counter a chubby, middle-aged man in a Burger Lord uniform slapped burgers onto the griddle, whistling softly, happy in his work.
塞布尔漫步走进汉堡王。它跟美国所有汉堡王一模一样。（但跟世界其他地区的汉堡王不同。比如德国的汉堡王就用发酵啤酒代替了碳酸饮料。而英国汉堡王设法获得了所有美式快餐的优点——比如送餐速度——又谨慎小心地全部抛弃。你的食物会在半小时后送达，已经凉至室温状态，而且你只有通过温暾暾的生菜才能分出汉堡和圆面包。而汉堡王的市场开拓人员踏上法国土地后，刚过了二十五分钟就遭遇枪击。）小丑麦克老爹在儿童游戏区跳着舞。服务生们脸上都挂着完全相同的灿烂微笑，当然是皮笑肉不笑。柜台后面有个身穿汉堡王制服的中年胖男人，拍打着煎锅里的肉饼，轻声吹着口哨，快乐地工作。
“Anything-to-drink?”
“喝点什么？”
“Here y’are,” he said.
“给你。”他说。
“Hello-my-name-is-Marie,” said the girl behind the counter. “How-can-I-help-you?”
“你好我是玛丽我能为您做点什么？”柜台后的女孩问道。
Sable went up to the counter.
塞布尔走到柜台前。
Hello-my-name-is-Marie gave Sable his MEALS and told him to have a nice day.
你好我是玛丽把饭递给塞布尔，祝他愉快。
“A double blaster thunder biggun, extra fries, hold the mustard,” he said.
“双层爆破雷电大汉堡，特大号薯条，多加芥末。”他说。
“A special thick whippy chocobanana shake.”
“特稠弹性巧克力香蕉奶昔。”
“Uhnnhuhn,” crooned the cook. He sorted the food into little paper containers, pausing only to brush the graying cowlick from his eyes.
“嗯嗯哈嘿。”厨师低声哼着。他手脚麻利地把食物分门别类放进小纸盒，只停下来一次，拨拉开挡住眼睛的灰发。
She pressed the little pictogram squares on her till. (Literacy was no longer a requirement for employment in these restaurants. Smiling was.) Then she turned to the chubby man behind the counter. “DBTB, E F, hold mustard,” she said. “Choc-shake.”
女孩按下收银机上的象形文字按钮。（文化已经不是这些餐馆的招聘要求。微笑才是。）接着她扭头对后面的胖男人说：“双爆雷大，多加芥末，巧奶。”
She took them without looking at him, and he returned cheerfully to his griddle, singing quietly, “Loooove me tender, looooove me long, neeever let me go…”
女孩看都没看他一眼，直接取过食物。厨师高高兴兴走回煎锅前，轻声哼唱着猫王的歌曲。“温柔地爱我，长久地爱我，永远别让我走…”
The man’s humming, Sable noted, clashed with the Burger Lord background music, a tinny tape loop of the Burger Lord commercial jingle, and he made a mental note to have him fired.
塞布尔注意到这个男人的歌声，跟汉堡王尖声尖气、不断循环的背景音乐并不和谐。他把这事记在心里，准备将这人开除。
Artificial bread roll. Artificial burger. Fries that had never even seen potatoes. Foodless sauces. Even (and Sable was especially pleased with this) an artificial slice of dill pickle. He didn’t bother to examine his milkshake. It had no actual food content, but then again, neither did those sold by any of his rivals.
人造面包。人造肉饼。薯条里永远见不到马铃薯。无食沙司。还有特别令塞布尔满意的人造莳萝泡菜片。他没有费事检查自己的奶昔。那里没有真正的食物，但和往常一样，竞争对手们的同类产品里也没有。
He found a small plastic table, sat down in the plastic seat, and examined his food.
塞布尔找到张塑料小桌，坐在塑料椅上，检查着自己的食物。
There was a tug at his sleeve. “Party name of Sable?” asked a small, bespectacled man in an International Express cap, holding a brown paper parcel.
有人拉了一下他的袖子。“您就是收件人塞布尔吧？”戴眼镜的小个子男人问道，他头戴“国际速递”的帽子，手里拿着个棕色纸包。
Sable nodded.
塞布尔点点头。
All around him people were eating their unfood with, if not actual evidence of enjoyment, then with no more actual disgust than was to be found in burger chains all over the planet.
坐在他周围的人都吃着自己的非食品。就算他们的表情不是特别满意，至少也不比世界各地汉堡王连锁店里的顾客更加痛苦。
“Thought it was you. Looked around, thought, tall gent with a beard, nice suit, can’t be that many of them here. Package for you, sir.”
“估计就是您。在周围看了看，心想，留胡子的高个儿绅士，高档套装，这里可没多少这样的人。您的包裹，先生。”
He stood up, took his tray over to the PLEASE DISPOSE OF YOUR REFUSE WITH CARE receptacle, and dumped the whole thing. If you had told him that there were children starving in Africa he would have been flattered that you’d noticed.
他站起身，把餐盘拿到“请小心弃置您的垃圾”箱前，将所有东西倒了进去。如果你跟他说非洲有很多孩子正在饿死，他会因为你居然注意到这件事而大惊。
“Back to the office?” asked the chauffeur.
“回办公室？”司机问。
And in the Burger Lord, behind the counter, the stout man with the cowlick slid another half-dozen burgers onto the grill. He was the happiest man in the whole world and he was singing, very softly.
在汉堡王店铺的柜台后面，额头垂着一绺乱发的矮胖男子又往煎锅里放了六块肉饼。他是世上最快乐的人，此刻正柔声唱着歌。
“The airport,” said Sable. “And call ahead. I want a ticket to England.”
“机场。”塞布尔说，“先打个电话，我要一张去英国的机票。”
“About time,” he said. He thrust the scales into his pocket, unheeding of the damage being done to the sleek line of his black suit, and went back to the limo.
“是时候了。”他说着把天平塞进衣袋，毫不在乎它对西服顺滑线条造成的影响，随即走回轿车。
Sable smiled. It was a slim smile, and was gone almost instantly.
塞布尔展颜一笑。这是个修长的微笑，而且稍纵即逝。
“How long for, sir?”
“多长时间，先生？”
“Yessir. Return ticket to England.”
“是，先生。去英国的往返机票。”
“No,” said Sable. He gave the man a tip — five dollars — and opened the package.
“不。”塞布尔递给那人五美元小费，然后打开包裹。
“Thank you kindly, sir,” said the delivery man. He paused. “Here,” he said. “That bloke behind the counter. Does he remind you of anyone?”
“非常感谢，先生。”速递员顿了顿又说，“那个，柜台后面那小子，您觉得他眼熟吗？”
In it was a small pair of brass scales.
里面放着一具黄铜小天平。
Sable fingered the scales in his pocket. “Make that a single,” he said. “I’ll be making my own way back. Oh, and call the office for me, cancel all appointments.”
塞布尔摸了摸口袋里的天平。“订单程的。”他说，“我会自己回来。哦，再给办公室打个电话，取消所有预约。”
“The foreseeable future.”
“可预见的未来。”
Sable signed for it, his real name — one word, six letters. Sounds like examine.
塞布尔签了收条。当然是用他的真名，一个词，两个字，听起来有点像“惊慌”。
“… y’ain’t never caught a rabbit,” he hummed to himself, “and y’ain’t no friend of mine…”
“…你永远抓不到兔子。”他轻轻哼唱着猫王的《猎狗》，“你也不是我的朋友…”
The Them listened with interest. There was a light drizzle which was barely kept at bay by the old iron sheets and frayed bits of lino that roofed their den in the quarry, and they always looked to Adam to think up things to do when it was raining. They weren’t disappointed. Adam’s eyes were agleam with the joy of knowledge.
“他们”听得津津有味。天上下着毛毛细雨，采掘场秘密基地上覆盖的旧铁板和磨损的油毡堪可遮蔽。每到下雨的时候，他们都指望亚当想出些事儿做。他们没有失望。亚当的目光中闪烁着获得新知的喜悦。
It had been 3:00 A. M. before he’d gone to sleep under a pile of New Aquarians.
他在一堆《新水瓶座文摘》下睡着时，已经是凌晨三点。
“Huh,” said Pepper. “I bet. Alive frogs?”
“哈。”佩帕说，“我信。活青蛙？”
“Oh, yes,” said Adam, warming to his subject. “Hopping around and croaking and everything. People paid him money to go away in the end an’, an’…” He racked his brains for something that would satisfy his audience; he’d done, for Adam, a lot of reading in one go. “… And he sailed off in the Mary Celeste and founded the Bermuda Triangle. It’s in Bermuda,” he added helpfully.
“哦，对。”亚当越讲越起劲，“欢蹦乱跳，呱呱直叫。人们最后付钱让他离开，而且、而且…”他在脑海中搜寻着可以满足听众们的东西。以亚当的标准来说，昨天真是一口气读了不少东西。“而且他乘坐玛莉·西莉斯特号出海，发现了百慕大三角。那是在百慕大。”他详细解说道。
“An’ then there was this man called Charles Fort,” he said. “He could make it rain fish and frogs and stuff.”
“还有个人叫查尔斯·福特，”他说，“他能让天上下鱼和青蛙之类的东西。”
“No, he couldn’t of done that,” said Wensleydale sternly, “because I’ve read about the Mary Celeste, and there was no one on it. It’s famous for having no one on it. They found it floating around all by itself with no one on it.”
“不，他不可能这么做。”温斯利戴严肃地说，“因为我读到过玛莉·西莉斯特号的事，那艘船上一个人也没有。它之所以出名，就是因为一个人都没有。人们在亚速群岛附近发现它时，船上所有人都神秘失踪了，所以才叫幽灵船。”
“I din’t say he was on it when they found it, did I?” said Adam scathingly. “Course he wasn’t on it. ‘Cos of the UFOs landin’ and takin’ him off. I thought everyone knew about that.”
“我没说人们发现船的时候，查尔斯·福特在那上面，对不对？”亚当斥责道，“他当然不在。因为UFO降落在船上，把他带走了。我还以为所有人都知道呢。”
The Them relaxed a bit. They were on firmer ground with UFOs. They weren’t entirely certain about New Age UFOs, though; they’d listened politely to Adam on the subject, but somehow modern UFOs lacked punch.
孩子们放松了一点。UFO的话题他们都比较熟悉。不过，他们的确不太了解新世纪UFO，于是安安静静地听亚当讲这个话题。但不知为什么，现代UFO有点无聊。
“If I was an alien,” said Pepper, voicing the opinion of them all, “I wouldn’t go round telling people all about mystic cosmic harmony. I’d say,” her voice became hoarse and nasal, like someone hampered by an evil black mask, “‘Thish ish a lasher blashter, sho you do what you’re told, rebel swine.”‘
“如果我是异形，”佩帕说出了所有人的心里话，“我可不会到处去跟人们讲什么神秘的宇宙和谐。我会说——”她的声音变得沙哑干涩，仿佛戴上了一副邪恶的黑面具，“这是一把激光枪，你们最好按我说的做，反抗军猪猡。”
They all nodded. A favorite game in quarry had been based on a highly successful film series with lasers, robots, and a princess who wore her hair like a pair of stereo headphones. (It had been agreed without a word being said that if anyone was going to play the part of any stupid princesses, it wasn’t going to be Pepper.) But the game normally ended in a fight to be the one who was allowed to wear the coal scuttle® and blow up planets. Adam was best at it — when he was the villain, he really sounded as if he could blow up the world. The Them were, anyway, temperamentally on the side of planet destroyers, provided they could be allowed to rescue princesses at the same time.
所有人都点了点头。采掘场里最受欢迎的游戏之一，是根据一部轰动全球的系列电影改编来的。那电影里有激光、机器人，还有位头发梳得像立体声耳机的公主。（他们早已达成共识，如果需要有人扮演愚蠢的公主角色，那绝不会是佩帕。）但这游戏通常会以打架收场，矛盾集中于谁能穿上黑煤篓，然后炸掉一个个星球。这游戏亚当玩得最好，他扮演反派时，感觉好像真能把整个世界炸飞。“他们”本能地站在行星破坏者这边，当然，只要允许他们同时拯救公主就行。
There was a moment’s silence while they pondered this waste of perfectly good UFOs.
这是对完美有趣的UFO的极大浪费，所有人都因此陷入沉思。
“I s’pect that’s what they used to do,” said Adam. “But now it’s different. They all have this bright blue light around ’em and go around doing good. Sort of g’lactic policemen, going round tellin’ everyone to live in universal harmony and stuff.”
“我想他们过去就是这么干的。”亚当说，“但现在不同了。他们周身上下都散发着明亮的蓝光，到处去做好事。有点像银河系警察，告诉每个人要注重宇宙和谐什么的。”
“It’s ‘cos the goverment hushes it all up,” said Adam. “Millions of flying saucers landin’ all the time and the goverment keeps hushing it up.”
“因为政府把它们都隐瞒了。”亚当说，“数百万飞碟不断降落在地球，政府全都隐瞒了。”
“What I’ve always wondered,” said Brian, “is why they call ’em UFOs when they know they’re flying saucers. I mean, they’re Identified Flying Objects then.”
“我总是在想，”布赖恩最终说道，“既然谁都知道它们是飞碟，干吗还要叫不明飞行物。我是说，应该是已知飞行物啊。”
“‘Cos they’re the goverment,” said Adam simply. “That’s what goverments do. They’ve got this great big building in London full of books of all the things they’ve hushed up. When the Prime Minister gets in to work in the morning, the first thing he does is go through the big list of everything that’s happened in the night and put this big red stamp on them.”
“因为他们是政府。”亚当只能这么说，“这就是政府干的事儿。他们在伦敦有很大的房子，里面放满了书，写的都是他们隐瞒下来的事。首相早晨上班要做的第一件事，就是浏览昨晚发生的所有事件的大清单，然后盖上大红章。”
“Why?” said Wensleydale.
“为什么？”温斯利戴说。
Adam hesitated. His reading hadn’t provided a quick explanation for this; New Aquarian just took it as the foundation of belief, both of itself and its readers, that the government hushed everything up.
亚当有点犹豫。他读到的东西没有给这个问题提供简单明了的解释。《新水瓶座文摘》和它的读者们的信仰基础就是，政府隐瞒了一切。
“Which says ‘Hush It Up,”‘ said Pepper.
“那章上刻的是‘隐瞒’。”佩帕说。
“I bet he has a cup of tea first, and then reads the paper,” said Wensleydale, who had on one memorable occasion during the holidays gone unexpectedly into his father’s office, where he had formed certain impressions. “And talks about what was on TV last night.”
“我打赌他肯定要先喝杯茶，然后看报纸。”温斯利戴假期里碰巧去了一趟父亲的办公室，这个难忘的时刻给他留下了某些印象，“然后讨论昨晚的电视节目。”
“It says Top Secret,” said Adam, resenting this attempt at bipartisan creativity. “It’s like nucular power stations. They keep blowin’ up all the time but no one ever finds out ‘cos the goverment hushes it up.”
“是‘高度机密’。”亚当不想让别人分享这个创意，“就好像核电站。它们整天爆炸，但谁都不会发现，因为政府隐瞒起来了。”
“They don’t keep blowing all the time,” said Wensleydale severely. “My father says they’re dead safe and mean we don’t have to live in a greenhouse. Anyway, there’s a big picture of one in my comic* and it doesn’t say anything about it blowing up.”
“它们不会整天爆炸。”温斯利戴表示严正抗议，“我爸说它们特别安全，而且还能让咱们不用住在温室里。另外，我的漫画书里有一张核电站的大图片，里面也没提爆炸什么的。”
[Wensleydale’s alleged comic was a 94-week part-work called Wonders of Nature and Science. He had every single one so far, and had asked for a set of binders for his birthday. Brian’s weekly reading was anything with a lot of exclamation marks in the title, like “WhiZZ!!” or “Clang!!” So was Pepper’s, although even under the most refined of tortures she still wouldn’t admit to the fact that she also bought Just Seventeen under plain covers. Adam didn’t read any comics at all. They never lived up to the kind of things he could do in his head.]
（温斯利戴所谓的漫画，是一套分九十四周出版的丛刊，名字叫《自然和科学奇观》。到目前为止的每一期他都有，还在生日时要到一套合订本。布赖恩的每周读物是扉页上有很多感叹号的东西，比如“飕飕！”或者“叮咣！！”。佩帕也是，但即便经受最残酷的严刑拷打，她也不会承认自己还订阅了用匿名包裹寄来的少女刊物《只有十七岁》。亚当什么漫画都不看，它们都没有他自己想象出来的东西有趣。）
“Well, orlright, but after that he gets out the book and the big stamp.”
“嗯，也对，但是然后他就拿出书和大红章。”
“Yes,” said Brian, “But you lent me that comic afterwards and I know what type of picture it was.”
“对。”布赖恩说，“但你后来把那本漫画借给我了，我知道那是什么图片。它整个都碎了。”
There was the usual brief scuffle.
接下来是司空见惯的打闹。
“Look,” said Adam severely. “Do you want me to tell you about the Aquarium Age, or not?”
“嗨。”亚当严肃地说，“你们还想不想听水生纪元的故事了？”
Wensleydale hesitated, and then said in a voice heavy with badly tried patience, “Brian, just because it says Exploded Diagram –“
温斯利戴犹豫片刻，接着用刻意压低的声音，耐着性子说：“布赖恩，那是一幅分解示意图…”
“Right,” said Adam. He scratched his head. “Now you’ve made me forget where I’ve got to,” he complained.
“好了。”亚当挠着头说，“你们闹得我都忘了说到什么地方了。”
The fight, never very serious amongst the siblinghood of the Them, subsided.
打闹平息了，这种打闹在“他们”内部本来就不怎么当真。
“Flyin’ saucers,” said Brian.
“飞碟。”布赖恩说。
“Right. Right. Well, if you do see a flying UFO, these government men come and tell you off,” said Adam, getting back into his stride. “In a big black car. It happens all the time in America.”
“对。对。嗯，如果你看到一个UFO，那些政府的人就会跑来阻止你。”亚当很快恢复了自己的节奏，“坐着很大的黑轿车。这种事每时每刻都在美国发生。”
The Them nodded sagely. Of this at least they had no doubt. America was, to them, the place that good people went to when they died. They were prepared to believe that just about anything could happen in America.
“他们”一本正经地点点头。至少没人怀疑这一点。对他们来说，美国就是好人死后要去的地方。他们有这个心理准备，相信任何事都可能在美国发生。
“Prob’ly causes traffic jams,” said Adam, “all these men in black cars, going about telling people off for seeing UFOs. They tell you that if you go on seeing ’em, you’ll have a Nasty Accident.”
“没准儿会造成交通堵塞。”亚当说，“所有这些坐黑轿车的人，到处阻止人们目击飞碟。他们会说，如果你继续看飞碟，就会遇到可怕的意外。”
“There could be, if you mixed them up,” said Wensleydale, blinking owlishly. “You know. Strawberry and chocolate. Chocolate and vanilla.” He sought for more English flavors. “Strawberry and vanilla and chocolate,” he added, lamely.
“还是有可能的，如果你把它们混起来。”温斯利戴老成持重地眨眨眼，“你知道。草莓加巧克力。巧克力加香草。”他回想着英国冰淇淋还有什么口味，最终没底气地说，“草莓加香草加巧克力。”
“And then there’s Atlantis,” said Adam loudly.
“另外还有亚特兰蒂斯。”亚当大声说。
“Sort of sudden an’ slowly,” said Adam, “‘cos a lot of ’em got away in boats to all the other countries and taught ’em how to do maths an’ English an’ History an’ stuff.”
“既突然又缓慢。”亚当说，“因为他们很多人都坐船逃到了其他国家，教导当地人数学、语文和历史之类的东西。”
“There aren’t thirty-nine flavors of ice cream,” said Pepper. “There aren’t thirty-nine flavors in the whole world.”
“没有三十九种口味的冰淇淋。”佩帕说，“全世界都没有三十九种口味。”
This even silenced Adam, briefly.
听到这话，甚至连亚当都安静下来，当然只有一小会儿。
“Prob’ly get run over by a big black car,” said Brian, picking at a scab on a dirty knee. He brightened up. “Do you know,” he said, “my cousin said that in America there’s shops that sell thirty-nine different flavors of ice cream?”
“可能会被一辆大黑车碾过去。”布赖恩从肮脏的膝盖上抠下一块疤瘌，突然眼神一亮。“你们知道吗？”他说，“我表哥说美国有些商店里，卖三十九种不同口味的冰淇淋。”
He had their interest there. They enjoyed Atlantis. Cities that sank under the sea were right up the Them’s street. They listened intently to a jumbled account of pyramids, weird priesthoods, and ancient secrets.
这句话吸引了所有人的注意力。他们喜欢亚特兰蒂斯。沉入海底的城市正对“他们”的胃口。孩子们入迷地聆听着金字塔、神秘祭师和上古秘密糅成的一团乱麻。
“Did it just happen sudden, or slowly?” said Brian.
“是突然发生的，还是缓慢进行？”布赖恩说。
“They could of done,” he conceded, somewhat weakly. “After they’d sent all the teachers off in the boats. Maybe everyone else stayed on when it went down.”
“他们有可能就是这么干的。”他略显勉强地让步说，“他们可能先把老师们都放到船上送走，然后所有人都留下来跟亚特兰蒂斯一起沉到海底了。”
Adam greeted this with the chilly stare he reserved for any of Them who came up with an idea he really wished he’d thought of first.
亚当目光一凛。每当其他成员想出了亚当认为自己应该先想到的好点子时，他就会祭出这种眼神。
“Could of been good fun, when it was sinking,” said Brian wistfully, recalled the one occasion when Lower Tadfield had been flooded. “People deliverin’ the milk and newspapers by boat, no one having to go to school.”
“估计沉的时候很有意思。”布赖恩想起了有一次塔德菲尔德发洪水时的情景，“人们划着船送牛奶和报纸，谁都不用去学校。”
“You wouldn’t have to wash,” said Brian, whose parents forced him to wash a great deal more than he thought could possibly be healthy. Not that it did any good. There was something basically ground in about Brian. “Because everything would stay clean. An’, an’ you could grow seaweed and stuff in the garden and shoot sharks. And have pet octopuses and stuff. And there wouldn’t be any schools and stuff because they’d of got rid of all the teachers.”
“你都不用洗漱了。”布赖恩说。父母总是强迫他洗漱，频率远远超过他心目中的健康标准。而且一点好处也没有。布赖恩是有些底线的。“因为所有东西都会保持干净。而且，而且你可以在花园里种海藻什么的，还能猎鲨鱼。还能养章鱼之类的宠物。而且没有学校，因为他们送走了所有老师。”
“Don’t see what’s so great about that,” said Pepper.
“看不出这有什么好处。”佩帕说。
“If I was an Atlantisan, I’d of stayed,” said Wensleydale. This was greeted with disdainful laughter, but he pressed on. “You’d just have to wear a diver’s helmet, that’s all. And nail all the windows shut and fill the houses with air. It would be great.”
“如果我是亚特兰蒂斯人，我就会留下。”温斯利戴说。这话招来了一阵轻蔑的笑声，但他继续解释说，“你只需要戴一顶潜水头盔就够了。再把门窗都钉好，在屋里充满空气。肯定特别棒。”
They thought about the Atlanteans, clad in flowing mystic robes and goldfish bowls, enjoying themselves deep under the choppy waters of the ocean.
四个人想象着亚特兰蒂斯人。他们身穿随波流动的神秘长袍和金鱼缸，在波涛汹涌的大洋深处快乐生活。
Adam felt very pleased about the morning’s work. He’d always known that the world was an interesting place, and his imagination had peopled it with pirates and bandits and spies and astronauts and similar. But he’d also had a nagging suspicion that, when you seriously got right down to it, they were all just things in books and didn’t properly exist any more.
亚当对上午的成功十分满意。他早就知道世界是个有趣的地方，他的想象力用海盗、土匪、间谍和宇航员之类的人物塞满了地球。但他也有些隐隐的怀疑，生怕当你认真起来，就会发现这些只是书中的故事，其实并不存在。
“What shall we do now?” said Brian. “It’s brightened up a bit.”
“咱们现在干什么？”布赖恩说，“差不多放晴了。”
“They could still be down there now,” said Pepper.
“他们现在可能还住在海底。”佩帕说。
In the end they played Charles Fort Discovering Things. This consisted of one of the Them walking around with the ancient remains of an umbrella, while the others treated him to a rain of frogs or, rather, frog. They could only find one in the pond. It was an elderly frog, who knew the Them of old, and tolerated their interest as the price it paid for a pond otherwise free of moorhens and pike. It put up with things good-naturedly for a while before hopping off to a secret and so-far-undiscovered hideout in an old drainpipe.
他们最后玩的是查尔斯·福特大发现。这个游戏包括一个人举着把破伞的残余部分，其他人替他下一场青蛙雨。不过他们只能在池塘里找到一只青蛙。它年纪很大，相当熟悉“他们”。它容忍着孩子们的游戏，独享一处没有红松鸡和狗鱼的池塘，总要付出些代价。它和善地陪他们玩了几次，随即跳进一根旧水管中尚未被发现的秘密藏身所。
Then they went home for lunch.
他们也回家吃午饭去了。
“Huh,” said Pepper, summing up their feelings.
“哈！”佩帕以此总结了所有人的感受。
He bolted his lunch and retired to his room. There were still quite a few New Aquarians he hadn’t read yet.
亚当三口两口吃掉午饭，跑回自己的房间。有几本《新水瓶座文摘》他还没看。
Whereas this Aquarium Age stuff was really real. Grown-up people wrote lots of books about it (New Aquarian was full of adverts for them) and Bigfoots and Mothmen and Yetis and sea monsters and Surrey pumas really existed. If Cortez, on his peak in Darien, had had slightly damp feet from efforts at catching frogs, he’d have felt just like Adam at that moment.
但水生纪元的东西绝对是真的。成年人写了很多有关它的书（《新水瓶座文摘》上全都是这种广告）。而且大脚怪、天蛾人、雪人、海怪和萨里狮[1]也都是真的。如果说冒险家巴尔波爬上达利安山峰，首次发现了太平洋的同时，还因为抓青蛙而稍稍弄湿了脚，那么他的感觉就跟现在的亚当分毫不差了。【注：[1]十九世纪六七十年代，传闻在英格兰东北部地区出现的黑色大型猫科动物。】
The cocoa was a congealed brown sludge half filling the cup.
可可已经凝固成棕色泥浆，沉积在杯子里。
The world was bright and strange and he was in the middle of it.
这是个奇妙而精彩的世界，而他就置身其中。
Certain people had spent hundreds of years trying to make sense of the prophecies of Agnes Nutter. They had been very intelligent, in the main. Anathema Device, who was about as close to being Agnes as genetic drift would allow, was the best of the bunch. But none of them had been angels.
有些人花了数百年时间，想要理解艾格尼丝·风子的预言。平心而论，他们都很聪明。而安娜丝玛·仪祁更是个中翘楚，她在遗传漂变允许的范围内，已经尽可能做到与艾格尼丝相似。但他们都不是天使。
Many people, meeting Aziraphale for the first time, formed three impressions: that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. Two of these were wrong; Heaven is not in England, whatever certain poets may have thought, and angels are sexless unless they really want to make an effort. But he was intelligent. And it was an angelic intelligence which, while not being particularly higher than human intelligence, is much broader and has the advantage of having thousands of years of practice.
很多人第一次遇到亚茨拉菲尔时，都会形成三个印象：他是英国人，他很聪明，他比十篇腐女同人文的主角绑在一起还基。其中两点是错的。不管某些诗人怎么想，天堂的确不在英国。另外天使是无性的，除非他们真动了什么念头。但亚茨拉菲尔的确聪明。而且这是一种天使的智慧，虽然并不比人类的智慧高多少，但要广博得多，而且还有数千年实践的优势。
She’d spent the week taking soundings with theodolite and pendulum, and the Ordinance Survey map of the Tadfield area was now covered with little dots and arrows.
这个礼拜，她一直在用经纬仪和钟摆进行探查，她的塔德菲尔德官方测绘图上布满了小点和箭头。
But these other calculations were of a kind no computer could ever do. Sometimes he would scribble something on a sheet of paper by his side. It was covered in symbols which only eight other people in the world would have been able to comprehend; two of them had won Nobel prizes, and one of the other six dribbled a lot and wasn’t allowed anything sharp because of what he might do with it.
但有些计算是电脑永远无法完成的。他不时在手边的一张纸上写写画画。那上面布满了奇怪的符号，全世界只有八个人能够理解。其中两人是诺贝尔奖得主，其余六人中有一个成天流口水，人们限制他接触任何尖锐物体，生怕他会干出什么事来。
Aziraphale was the first angel ever to own a computer. It was a cheap, slow, plasticky one, much touted as ideal for the small businessman. Aziraphale used it religiously for doing his accounts, which were so scrupulously accurate that the tax authorities had inspected him five times in the deep belief that he was getting away with murder somewhere.
亚茨拉菲尔是第一个拥有电脑的天使。那是台速度缓慢的廉价塑料玩意儿，被吹捧为小商人的理想之选。亚茨拉菲尔以虔诚的态度，用它整理账目。这些账目准确得异乎寻常，税务人员曾五次过来检查，深信他肯定隐瞒着什么惊天大案。
Anathema lunched on miso soup and pored over her maps. There was no doubt the area around Tadfield was rich in ley lines; even the famous Rev. Watkins had identified some. But unless she was totally wrong, they were beginning to shift position.
安娜丝玛一边喝味噌汤，一边审视自己的地图。塔德菲尔德附近显然富含魔力射线，就连著名的阿尔弗雷德·沃特金斯[2]都识别出了一些。但这些射线正在移动，要不然就是她的计算出了大问题。【注：[2]阿尔弗雷德·沃特金斯（1855—1935），魔力射线（ley lines）理论的先驱倡导者和命名人。】
The radio was on. She wasn’t really listening. So quite a lot of the main news item passed right by her unheeding ears, and it wasn’t until a couple of key words filtered down into her consciousness that she began to take notice.
收音机一直开着，但她没在听。许多主要新闻从她的左耳进右耳出，没有留下任何痕迹。直到几个关键词钻入脑海，她才开始注意。
Someone called A Spokesman sounded close to hysteria.
某个被称作发言人的家伙，正用近乎歇斯底里的声音讲着什么。
“… danger to employees or the public,” he was saying.
“…对员工和大众都存在危险。”
“And precisely how much nuclear material has escaped?” said the interviewer.
“那么到底有多少核原料失踪了？”采访者问道。
There was a pause. “We wouldn’t say escaped,” said the spokesman. “Not escaped. Temporarily mislaid.”
短暂的沉默后，发言人说：“我们不会说失踪。不是失踪。暂时放错了地方。”
She stared at them for some time. Then she picked up a felt-tip pen and, with occasional references to her notebook, began to join them up.
安娜丝玛又看了一会儿，随即拿起一根尼龙墨水针笔，开始整合数据，还不时参考一下自己的笔记本。
“You mean it is still on the premises?”
“您是说它还在电站里？”
There was another pause. Then the spokesman said, in the quiet tones of someone who has had enough and is going to quit after this and raise chickens somewhere, “Yes, I suppose we must. All we need to do is find some terrorists who are capable of taking an entire nuclear reactor out of its can while it’s running and without anyone noticing. It weighs about a thousand tons and is forty feet high. So they’ll be quite strong terrorists. Perhaps you’d like to ring them up, sir, and ask them questions in that supercilious, accusatory way of yours.”
又是一阵寂静。接着发言人换上从容的语气，感觉像是已经受够了这份烦人的工作，准备回去就辞职，然后找个地方养鸡。“是的，我想我们肯定考虑过。我们所要做的，就是找出某些有能力在核反应堆工作时将其取出，同时不被任何人发现的恐怖分子。那反应堆重一千吨，高四十英尺。所以他们应该是很强壮的恐怖分子。也许你可以给他们打个电话，用你这种自以为是、居高临下的口吻向他们提些问题。”
“We certainly cannot see how it could have been removed from them,” said the spokesman.
“我们不认为有任何被移出电站的可能。”发言人说。
“Surely you have considered terrorist activity?”
“您肯定考虑过恐怖主义行动的可能吧？”
“It is.”
“是的。”
What she had been drawing looked like a galaxy, or the type of carving seen on the better class of Celtic monolith.
她画出的东西看起来像是银河，或是凯尔特巨石上雕刻的图纹。
“How can it still be doing that if it hasn’t got any reactors?”
“没有反应堆，怎么还能正常工作？”
“But you said the power station is still producing electricity,” gasped the interviewer.
“但您说发电站仍在正常发电。”采访者喘着粗气吃力地说。
You could see the spokesman’s mad grin, even on the radio. You could see his pen, poised over the “Farms for Sale” column in Poultry World. “We don’t know,” he said. “We were hoping you clever buggers at the BBC would have an idea.”
你几乎可以通过收音机，看到发言人近乎疯狂的狞笑。你可以看到他的钢笔就停在《家禽世界》杂志的“待售农场”栏目上。“我们不知道。”他说，“我们希望你们这些BBC广播公司聪明绝顶的狗杂种会有个答案。”
Anathema looked down at her map.
安娜丝玛低头看着地图。
The ley-lines were shifting. They were forming a spiral.
魔力射线在移动。它们正形成一个漩涡。
It was centered — loosely, with some margin for error, but nevertheless centered — on Lower Tadfield.
这个漩涡是以…嗯，多少有些疏漏偏差，但总之是以下塔德菲尔德为中心。
Several thousand miles away, at almost the same moment as Anathema was staring at her spirals, the pleasure cruiser Morbilli was aground in three hundred fathoms of water.
几千里外，几乎是在安娜丝玛注视着漩涡图案的同时，“麻疹号”邮轮在三百英寻深的海面上搁浅了。
For Captain Vincent, this was just another problem. For example, he knew he should contact the owners, but he never knew from day to day — or from hour to hour, in this computerized world — actually who the current owners were.
对文森特船长来说，这只是另一个麻烦。他有很多麻烦。比方说，他知道自己应该联络船主，但永远也搞不清楚，今天——在这个电脑化的世界，也许应该说这个小时——的现任船主是谁。
By inference, this also meant that he was more valuable dead than alive.
由此会引出这样的推论，他死掉的价值比活着更大。
Captain Vincent strongly suspected that despite all its electronics the ship was worth more sunk than afloat, and would probably go down as the most perfectly pinpointed wreck in nautical history.
文森特船长相当怀疑，尽管有这么多电子学奇迹，但这艘船沉掉的价值比浮在海上更大。而且就算沉掉，也很可能是海事史上最微不足道的遗骸。
He sat at his desk quietly leafing through International Maritime Codes, whose six hundred pages contained brief yet pregnant messages designed to transmit the news of every conceivable nautical eventuality across the world with the minimum of confusion and, above all, cost.
文森特船长坐在办公桌后，安静地翻阅着国际海事代码。这六百多页的大书中记载着各种简洁而又重要的代码信息，足以将所有可能出现的海上意外通报到世界任何地方，并将歧义和——最为重要的——费用降至最低。
Computers, that was the bloody trouble. The ship’s papers were computerized and it could switch to the most currently advantageous flag of convenience in microseconds. Its navigation had been computerized as well, constantly updating its position by satellites. Captain Vincent had explained patiently to the owners, whoever they were, that several hundred square meters of steel plating and a barrel of rivets would be a better investment, and had been informed that his recommendation did not accord with current cost/benefit flow predictions.
电脑就是惹祸的根苗。这艘船的证明文件都由电脑处理，可以在几微秒间换上当前最有利的方便旗[3]。它的导航系统同样由电脑控制，通过卫星实时更新当前位置。文森特船长已经耐心地向船主们——不管他们是谁——解释过，几百平方米钢板和一桶铆钉会是更好的投资项目，也接到回复说他的建议不符合当前成本/收益流预期。【注：[3]悬挂他国旗帜用以避税，或获取其他好处，称为挂方便旗。】
What he wanted to say was this: Was sailing SSW at position 33°N 47° 72’W. First Mate, who you may recall was appointed in New Guinea against my wishes and is probably a head-hunter, indicated by signs that something was amiss. It appears that quite a vast expanse of seabed has risen up in the night. It contains a large number of buildings, many of which appeared pyramid-like in structure. We are aground in the courtyard of one of these. There are some rather unpleasant statues. Amiable old men in long robes and diving helmets have come aboard the ship and are mingling happily with the passengers, who think we organized this. Please advise.
他现在要说的是：我们位于北纬33度，西经47度72分，航向西南。我们的大副——您也许记得此人是在新几内亚得到委任的，而且可能是个猎头族，我对这项任命始终持反对意见——总之，他发现了某些迹象，说明事态有异。面积相当大的一片海床在夜间突然升起，上面有大量建筑物，许多呈金字塔结构。我们搁浅在一个建筑物的前院中。这里有很多令人不快的塑像。一些身穿长袍头戴潜水头盔的老者登上本舰，与人们亲切交谈，乘客们以为这是我们安排的旅游项目。请指示。
He picked up his pen and wrote down: “XXXV QVVX.”
他拿起钢笔记下一段代码：XXXV QVVX。
His questing finger moved slowly down the page, and stopped. Good old International Codes. They’d been devised eighty years before, but the men in those days had really thought hard about the kind of perils that might possibly be encountered on the deep.
文森特船长的手指慢慢捋过书页，最终停了下来。这些古老的国际代码。它们是在八十多年前设计出来的，看来那年头的人还真是仔细考虑过在深海之上可能遇到的危险。
Translated, it meant: “Have found Lost Continent of Atlantis. High Priest has just won quoits contest.”
翻译过来就是：发现消失的亚特兰蒂斯大陆。最高祭司刚刚赢得掷环套桩比赛。
“It jolly well isn’t!”
“绝对不是！”
“It jolly well is!”
“绝对是！”
“It jolly well is!”
“绝对是！”
“It isn’t, you know!”
“绝对不是，你很清楚！”
“It isn’t — all right, then, what about volcanoes?” Wensleydale sat back, a look of triumph on his face.
“不是…好吧，那么火山呢？”温斯利戴往后一靠，脸上露出胜利的微笑。
“What about ’em?” said Adam.
“火山怎么了？”亚当问道。
“All that lather comes up from the center of the Earth, where it’s all hot,” said Wensleydale. “I saw a program. It had David Attenborough, so it’s true.”
“所有岩浆都是从地球中心出来的，那里温度极高。”温斯利戴说，“我看过一个电视节目。里面有大卫·爱登堡爵士[4]，所以肯定是真的。”【注：[4]英国著名自然节目主持人。】
The Hollow Earth Theory was not going over well in the quarry. A beguiling idea that had stood up to the probings of such remarkable thinkers as Cyrus Read Teed, Bulwer-Lytton, and Adolf Hitler was bending dangerously in the wind of Wensleydale’s searingly bespectacled logic.
“地球空洞说”在采掘场中推广得不太顺利。这个假想理论经受过诸如赛勒斯·瑞德·蒂德、布沃立顿和阿道夫·希特勒等众多思想家的审慎探究，如今却被温斯利戴炽热的逻辑发条绷得几乎断裂。
The other Them looked at Adam. It was like watching a tennis match.
其他人都望向亚当。这就像观看网球比赛。
“I dint say it was hollow all the way through,” said Adam. “No one said it was hollow all the way through. It prob’ly goes down miles and miles to make room for all the lather and oil and coal and Tibetan tunnels and suchlike. But then it’s hollow after that. That’s what people think. And there’s a hole at the North Pole to let the air in.”
“我又没说全都是空的。”亚当说，“谁也没说全都是空的。可能有很厚的地壳，为岩浆、石油、煤和西藏人地道之类的东西提供了足够空间。但再往下就是空的了。那些人就是这么想的。而且北极还有个大洞，以便透入空气。”
“Never seen it on an atlas,” sniffed Wensleydale.
“可没见地图上有洞。”温斯利戴不屑地说。
“What do you mean, Tibetan tunnels?” said Pepper. “You said Tibetan tunnels.”
“西藏人地道是什么意思？”佩帕说，“你刚说了西藏人地道。”
“Ah. Dint I tell you about them?”
“啊。我没讲过吗？”
“The goverment won’t let them put it on a map in case people go and have a look in,” said Adam. “The reason being, the people livin’ inside don’t want people lookin’ down on ’em all the time.”
“政府不让他们在地图上画出来，以防人们想去看。”亚当说，“事实上，住在里面的人不希望老有人跑去看他们。”
“It’s amazing. You know Tibet?”
“可棒了。你们知道西藏人吧？”
“Well, you know all those teachers that left Atlantis when it sunk?”
“嗯，你们知道亚特兰蒂斯沉没的时候，所有的老师都离开了吧？”
Three heads shook.
三颗脑袋摇晃了一下。
They nodded doubtfully. A series of images had risen in their minds: yaks, Mount Everest, people called Grasshopper, little old men sitting on mountains, other people learning kung fu in ancient temples, and snow.
三人犹犹豫豫地点点头。一系列画面出现在他们的脑海中：牦牛、珠穆朗玛峰、电影里绰号叫蚱蜢的功夫小子、坐在群山上的小老头、在古代寺庙中修习武术的人，还有雪。
They nodded again.
他们又点点头。
“Well, some of them went to Tibet and now they run the world. They’re called the Secret Masters. On account of being teachers, I suppose. An’ they’ve got this secret underground city called Shambala and tunnels that go all over the world so’s they know everythin’ that goes on and control everythin’. Some people reckon that they really live under the Gobby Desert,” he added loftily, “but mos’ competent authorities reckon it’s Tibet all right. Better for the tunnelling, anyway.”
“嗯，有些去了西藏，他们就在那里统治世界。这些人被称作‘上师’，我估计是因为他们都是老师。他们有座叫香巴拉[5]的地下城市，还有遍布全世界的地道。所以他们知晓一切，控制一切。有些人推测他们其实是住在蒙古的戈壁沙漠。”他故弄玄虚地补充道，“但大多数一流专家都认为就在西藏。毕竟那里比较容易挖隧道。”【注：[5]藏传佛教中隐在喜马拉雅山群峰间的神秘乐土。】
“My granny used to put a glass against the wall,” said Brian. “She said it was disgustin’, the way she could hear everything that went on next door.”
“我奶奶习惯把杯子扣在墙上。”布赖恩说，“她可以听到隔壁发生的一切，不过她说这样做很坏。”
The Them instinctively looked down at the grubby, dirt-covered chalk beneath their feet.
“他们”不由自主地低头看了看脚下肮脏泥泞的石灰地。
“They just have to listen, right?” hazarded Adam. “They just have to sit in their tunnels and listen. You know what hearin’ teachers have. They can hear a whisper right across the room.”
“他们只需要偷听，对吧？”亚当冒险猜测说，“他们只需要坐在地道里听。你知道老师们的听力有多好。他们隔着整个教室，能听见你说悄悄话。”
“How come they know everything?” said Pepper.
“他们怎么会知道一切？”佩帕说。
“All over the world,” said Adam firmly.
“布满全世界。”亚当肯定地说。
“Must of took a long time,” said Pepper doubtfully. “You remember when we tried digging that tunnel out in the field, we were at it all afternoon, and you had to scrunch up to get all in.”
“肯定要花很长时间。”佩帕狐疑地说，“你记得咱们那次试着在地上挖通道吗？咱们挖了整整一个下午，结果必须蜷起身子才能缩进去。”
“I thought the Tibetans were conquered by the Chinese and the Daily Llama had to go to India,” said Wensleydale, but without much conviction. Wensleydale read his father’s newspaper every evening, but the prosaic everydayness of the world always seemed to melt under the powerhouse of Adam’s explanations.
温斯利戴还有些疑虑，但也所剩无几。他每晚都读父亲的报纸，全世界发生的那些平凡琐事，总会在亚当的精彩描述下土崩瓦解。
“And these tunnels go everywhere, do they?” said Pepper, still staring at the ground.
“这些地道无所不在，是吗？”佩帕的目光还没从地面移开。
“Yes, but they’ve been doin’ it for millions of years. You can do really good tunnels if you’ve got millions of years.”
“对，但他们已经挖了好几百万年了。如果你有好几百万年的时间，肯定能挖个特别好的地道。”
They looked at one another.
四个孩子面面相觑。
“What’d you have to go an’ say that for?” said Adam. “Fat lot of good us trying to surprise them now, isn’t it, with you shoutin’ out something like that. I was just thinkin’ we could dig down, an’ you jus’ have to go an’ warn ’em!”
“你非要把话都说出来吗？”亚当说，“现在咱们可有机会吓他们一跳了，对吗？像你这么大喊大叫的。我正在考虑咱们可以向下挖，你就给他们提了个醒！”
“I bet they’re down there now,” said Adam, ignoring this. “They’d be all over the place by now. Sitting underground and listenin’.”
“我打赌他们此刻就在下面。”亚当说，“他们早已遍布全球，坐在地道里聆听。”
“If we dug down quickly –” said Brian. Pepper, who was a lot quicker on the uptake, groaned.
“如果咱们挖得够快…”布赖恩说。领悟力更强的佩帕呻吟一声。
“Oh, yes. Oh, yes. An’ I s’pose you know more about it than Madame Blatvatatatsky?” sniffed Adam.
“哦，对。哦，对。那我想你肯定比布拉德瓦塔塔斯基夫人懂得更多了？”亚当不屑地说。
They gave this due consideration.
他们仔细考虑了一下。
“I don’t think they’d dig all those tunnels,” said Wensleydale doggedly. “It doesn’t make any sense. Tibet’s hundreds of miles away.”
“我不认为那些地道都是他们挖的。”温斯利戴执拗地说，“这不合理。西藏可远着呢。”
“Now, if I was a Tibetan,” said Wensleydale, in a reasonable tone of voice, “I’d just dig straight down to the hollow bit in the middle and then run around the inside and dig straight up where I wanted to be.”
“如果我是西藏人，”温斯利戴推理说，“我就一直向下挖到中空的部分，然后在里边移动，再直接向上挖到我要去的地方。”
“You’ve got to admit that’s more sensible than tunnels,” said Pepper.
“你得承认这比地道更合理。”佩帕说。
Brian stared dreamily at the sky, while his finger probed the contents of one ear.
布赖恩出神地看着天空，用手指掏着一只耳朵。
“Yes, well, I expect that’s what they do,” said Adam. “They’d be bound to of thought of something as simple as that.”
“是的，好吧，我估计他们就是这么干的。”亚当说，“他们肯定会想到如此简单的方法。”
“Funny, reely,” he said. “You spend your whole life goin’ to school and learnin’ stuff, and they never tell you about stuff like the Bermuda Triangle and UFOs and all these Old Masters running around the inside of the Earth. Why do we have to learn boring stuff when there’s all this brilliant stuff we could be learnin’, that’s what I want to know.”
“有意思，真的。”他说，“你一辈子都在学校里学习，但他们从不告诉你百慕大三角、UFO，还有这些大师们在地球里边溜达的事。有这么多好玩的事情可以学，咱们为何还要学那些枯燥无趣的东西？我就想知道这个。”
There was a chorus of agreement.
孩子们纷纷表示赞同。
Then they went out and played Charles Fort and the Atlantisans versus the Ancient Masters of Tibet, but the Tibetters claimed that using mystic ancient lasers was cheating.
接着他们跑出去玩查尔斯·福特和亚特兰蒂斯人大战西藏上古大师的游戏，但西藏人们很快就宣布说，用神秘古代激光是作弊行为。
There was a time when witchfinders were respected, although it didn’t last very long.
曾经，猎巫人备受世人尊重，但这种情况没能持续太久。
Matthew Hopkins, for example, the Witchfinder General, found witches all over the east of England in the middle of the seventeenth century, charging each town and village nine pence a witch for every one he discovered.
比方说十七世纪中叶的猎巫人将军马太·霍普金斯，足迹遍布英国东部，到处寻找女巫们的踪影。他向这些城镇索取的报酬是，每个女巫九便士。
So in order to turn a profit Hopkins had to find a remarkable number of witches. This made him more than a little unpopular with the village councils, and he was himself hanged as a witch by an East Anglian village who had sensibly realized that they could cut their overheads by eliminating the middleman.
所以为了获取利润，霍普金斯必须找出相当数量的巫师。这让他在各地乡村委员会中有点不受欢迎，最终本人也被当成巫师，吊死在一个东盎格鲁村庄——这些聪明的村民意识到可以通过裁减中间人的方式，降低费用开销。
That was the trouble. Witchfinders didn’t get paid by the hour. Any witchfinder who spent a week examining the local crones and then told the mayor, “Well done, not a pointy hat among the lot of them,” would get fulsome thanks, a bowl of soup and a meaningful goodbye.
这就是症结所在。猎巫人不能按工作时间取酬。他可能会花上一星期检查当地的老妪，如果他接下来对市长说“很不错，没有一个人戴尖顶宽边黑帽”，那么得到的就只是过分殷勤的感谢、一碗汤和意味深长的道别。
It is thought by many that Hopkins was the last Witchfinder General.
很多人认为霍普金斯是最后一名猎巫人将军。
Nor is there a Witchfinder Colonel, a Witchfinder Major, a Witchfinder Captain, or even a Witchfinder Lieutenant (the last one was killed falling out of a very tall tree in Caterham, in 1933, while attempting to get a better view of something he believed was a satanic orgy of the most degenerate persuasion, but was, in fact, the Caterham and Whyteleafe Market Traders’ Association annual dinner and dance).
也没有猎巫人上校、猎巫人少校、猎巫人上尉，甚至是猎巫人中尉。（最后一位猎巫人中尉在1933年死于卡特汉姆镇，他认为自己发现了一场由最堕落的邪教组织举行的纵欲祭祀仪式，于是爬上一棵很高的树想要看个究竟，结果摔了下来。实际上，这场活动只是卡特汉姆及怀提立夫贸易商联合会的年度晚宴和舞会。）
In this they would, strictly speaking, be correct. Possibly not in the way they imagine, however. The Witchfinder Army marched on, just slightly more quietly.
严格来讲，在这个问题上，他们是正确的。但事实也许与他们的想象并不一样。猎巫人将军死了，但猎巫人大军还在继续前进，只是动静小了一点。
There is no longer a real Witchfinder General.
世上再也没有真正的猎巫人将军。
Later, when he was on nodding terms with Madame Tracy, Newt learned that if he had mentioned the other ad, the one in the magazine, Madame Tracy would have been available for strict discipline and intimate massage every evening except Thursdays. There was yet another ad in a phone box somewhere. When, much later, Newt asked her what this one involved, she said “Thursdays.”
后来，牛顿在与特蕾西夫人客套时得知，如果他当时指的是杂志上的广告，那么特蕾西夫人就会在除周四外的每天晚上，提供受过良好训练的私人按摩服务。在某个地方的电话亭里还有一则广告。在很久以后，牛顿问起这条是定在什么时间，特蕾西夫人说“周四”。
It was the advertisement that got him, in the Gazette, between a fridge for sale and a litter of not-exactly dalmatians:
是公报中的一则广告吸引了他，就在一台待售冰箱和一窝不怎么纯种的达尔马提亚犬之间：
“Hello,” he began, tentatively. “I saw your advert.”
“您好，”牛顿试探着说，“我看到了您的广告。”
Newton hesitated. “The advert says ‘Join the Professionals,'” he said. “It didn’t mention Madame Tracy.”
牛顿迟疑片刻。“广告上说‘加入专业队伍’。”他说，“没提特蕾西夫人。”
“Which one, love?”
“哪一则，亲爱的？”
In his lunch hour he phoned the number at the bottom of the ad. A woman answered.
他在午餐时间拨打了广告下面的号码。一个女人接了电话。
JOIN THE PROFESSIONALS. PART TIME ASSISTANT REQUIRED TO COMBAT THE FORCES OF DARKNESS. UNIFORM, BASIC TRAINING PROVIDED. FIELD PROMOTION CERTAIN. BE A MAN!
加入专业队伍。招聘抗击黑暗势力的兼职助理人员。提供制服和基本培训。大量战地升迁机会。做个男人！
“Er, the one in the paper.”
“呃，报纸上那个。”
“Right, love. Well, Madame Tracy Draws Aside the Veil every afternoon except Thursdays. Parties welcome. When would you be wanting to Explore the Mysteries, love?”
“没错，亲爱的。嗯，‘特蕾西夫人揭开帷幕’，除周四外每天下午。欢迎团体参加。你准备何时‘探索神秘世界’，亲爱的？”
There is also, now, a Witchfinder Private. His name is Newton Pulsifer.
现在又有了一名猎巫人二等兵。他名叫牛顿·帕西法。
“That’ll be Mister Shadwell you’ll be wanting, then. Just a sec, I’ll see if he’s in.”
“哦，你要找的是沙德维尔先生。稍等，我去看看他在不在。”
There is, however, a Witchfinder Sergeant.
但世上还有位猎巫人中士。
“Newton. Newton Pulsifer.”
“牛顿。牛顿·帕西法。”
“Aye?”
“啥？”
“I read your advert. ‘Join the professionals.’ I wanted to know a bit more about it.”
“我读到了您的广告。‘加入专业队伍’。我想多了解一些。”
“Oh. Aye. Well, then. Pulsifer. Pulsifer. I’ve seen that name afore, maybe?”
“哦。对。中。帕西法。帕西法。许是俺早先见过这名字儿？”
“I don’t know,” said Newton. “My uncle runs a toy shop in Hounslow,” he added, in case this way any help.
“我不知道。”牛顿说，“我叔叔倒是在豪恩斯洛市开了个玩具店。”他补充道，希望能有所帮助。
“That’s Pulsifer,” explained Newton. “With a P. I don’t know about the other stuff, but we come from Surrey.”
“是帕西法。”牛顿解释说，“帕。别的不知道，反正我是来自萨里郡。”
“What’s your name, lad?”
“侬叫什么，小子儿？”
“Oh,” squeaked Newton.
“哦。”牛顿勉强挤出了一个音节。
“LUCIFER? What’s that you say? Are ye of the Spawn of Darkness, a tempting beguiling creature from the pit, wanton limbs steaming from the fleshpots of Hades, in tortured and lubricious thrall to your stygian and hellish masters?”
“路西法？侬说啥？侬是黑暗之种吗，从深渊而来的诱人犯罪的生物，从冥府那酒池肉林中诞生的荒淫爪牙，受地狱恶魔主人们驱使的扭曲邪恶的奴隶？”
The voice on the phone sounded vaguely disappointed.
电话中的声音似乎有点失望。
“Aye. There’s many as would like to know more about it, an’ there’s many…” the voice trailed off impressively, then crashed back to full volume, “… there’s many as WOULDN’T.”
“哦。有老多人想多知晓些，也有老多人…”这声音渐渐变小，然后又突然恢复音量，“有老多人不想。”
Eventually there was the sound of feet in uncarpeted hallways, a deep coughing, and a voice the color of an old raincoat rumbled:
脚步落在没铺地毯的过道上咚咚作响，接着是一声低沉的咳嗽，一个音色好似旧雨衣的声音说道：
“Oh yes. Except for fillings.”
“哦，是的。除了补牙的填料。”
“Have ye all your own teeth?”
“侬的牙口都是自己个儿的吗？”
There was a thin layer of dust on Aziraphale, too.
亚茨拉菲尔身上也落了一层薄灰。
“Er. Two?”
“呃。两个？”
“What?”
“什么？”
“No. Yes. I mean, I’ve got some scissors. I’m not deaf.”
“不。是的。我是说，我有剪刀。我不聋。”
“Is that sooo?” said Shadwell.
“是这样吗？”沙德维尔说。
“Pardon?”
“什么？”
“How many nipples?”
“几个乳头？”
“Scissors! Scissors! Are ye deaf?”
“剪刀！剪刀！侬是聋子吗？”
Mr. Shadwell’s accent was unplaceable. It careered around Britain like a milk race. Here a mad Welsh drill sergeant, there a High Kirk elder who’d just seen someone doing something on a Sunday, somewhere between them a dour Daleland shepherd, or bitter Somerset miser. It didn’t matter where the accent went; it didn’t get any nicer.
沙德维尔先生的口音让人很难下个定论，它就像环英自行车赛一样到处转悠。这儿有个发疯的威尔士操练中士，那儿有个苏格兰教会长老看到有人在安息日干活，其间某处还有阴郁寡言的谷地牧羊人，或是充满敌意的萨默塞特守财奴。但不管口音变到哪里都无所谓，反正也不会好听一点。
“I suppose so,” Newt stuttered. “I mean, that was why I wanted to join the territorials. Brian Potter in Accounting can bench-press almost a hundred since he joined. And he paraded in front of the Queen Mother.”
“我想还行。”牛顿支支吾吾地说，“我是说，这就是我想参加民兵组织的原因。会计部门的布赖恩·波特就参加了，他现在杠铃握推能举起将近一百磅。而且他还在女王陛下面前接受了检阅。”
The cocoa had nearly all solidified. Green fur was growing on the inside of the mug.
可可几乎已经变成固态。杯子内壁长出了绿毛。
“Good. Have ye got your ane scissors?”
“中。侬有剪刀吗？”
“Nipples, laddie, nipples,” said the voice testily. “How many nipples hae ye got?”
“乳头，小赤佬，乳头。”那声音暴躁地说，“侬有几个乳头？”
“Are ye fit?”
“不是病秧子吧？”
He’d never met Agnes. She was too bright, obviously. Normally Heaven or Hell spotted the prophetic types and broadcast enough noises on the same mental channel to prevent any undue accuracy. Actually that was rarely necessary; they normally found ways of generating their own static in self-defense against the images that echoed around their heads.
亚茨拉菲尔从没遇到过艾格尼丝。她显然是太聪明了。通常天堂或地狱会找出那些有预言能力的人，并往相同波段的精神频道中发送大量噪音，以防过分准确的预言诞生。实际上几乎没有这个必要，这些人为了对抗脑海中回荡的图像，通常自己就会制造出足够的干扰。
The stack of notes was building up beside him. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies was a mass of improvised bookmarks made of torn strips of Daily Telegraph.
一堆堆便条在他周围筑起环城。《精良准确预言书》中夹了许多从《每日电讯报》上撕下来的纸片，作为临时书签。
Aziraphale stirred, and pinched his nose.
亚茨拉菲尔挪了挪身子，然后捏了下鼻子。
He was nearly there.
他几乎搞明白了。
Poor old St. John had his mushrooms, for example. Mother Shipton had her ale. Nostradamus had his collection of interesting oriental preparations. St. Malachi had his still.
比方说，可怜的老圣约翰和他的蘑菇、谢顿大妈和她的淡啤酒。诺查丹玛斯喜欢收集有趣的东方药品。圣玛拉基喜欢私酿。
Good old Malachi. He’d been a nice old boy, sitting there, dreaming about future popes. Complete piss artist, of course. Could have been a real thinker, if it hadn’t been for the poteen.
老好人玛拉基。他曾是个很不错的孩子，整天坐在那里，想象着未来的教皇们。当然，完全是个醉鬼。要不是因为私酿威士忌，他本可以成为一名真正的智者。
A sad end. Sometimes you really had to hope that the ineffable plan had been properly thought out.
悲剧结尾。有时你真希望有人能把那不可言喻的神圣计划完全想通。
He’d got the shape of it.
他已经摸清这件事的大致轮廓。
Thought. There was something he had to do. Oh, yes. Phone his contact, get things sorted out.
赶快想。他必须做点什么。哦，对。给下线打电话，把这件事解决掉。
Then he thought: why not? Worth a try.
接着他心想：干吗不呢？值得一试。
He stood up, stretched his limbs, and made a phone call.
亚茨拉菲尔站起来，伸伸腿脚，打了个电话。
“Hallo? Good afternoon. So kind. Yes. This will be a Tadfield number, I think. Or Lower Tadfield… ah. Or possibly Norton, I’m not sure of the precise code. Yes. Young. Name of Young. Sorry, no initial. Oh. Well, can you give me all of them? Thank you.”
“您好？下午好。谢谢。是的。我想，应该是个塔德菲尔德号码。或是下塔德菲尔德…呃，也可能是诺顿的，我不清楚准确的区号。是的。扬。姓扬。抱歉，不知道名字缩写是什么。哦。好的，您能把它们都告诉我吗？谢谢。”
He went back and shuffled through his sheaf of notes. Apes really had been good. And clever. No one was interested in accurate prophecies.
他走回桌前，在便条堆里翻找起来。艾格尼丝真是厉害，而且聪明。但没人对准确预言感兴趣。
Paper in hand, he phoned Directory Enquiries.
他把便条拿在手里，给查号台打了个电话。
Back on the table, a pencil picked itself up and scribbled furiously.
再看书桌上，一根铅笔自己龙飞凤舞地写了起来。
At the third name it broke its point.
写到第三个名字时，笔尖断了。
He hung up almost reverentially, took a few deep breaths, and dialed again. The last three digits gave him some trouble, because his hand was shaking.
他近乎虔诚地挂上电话，深吸几口气，又拨了个号码。最后三个数字给亚茨拉菲尔找了点麻烦，因为他的手在颤抖。
“Ah,” said Aziraphale, his mouth suddenly running on automatic while his mind exploded. “I think that’s the one. Thank you. So kind. Good day to you.”
“啊。”亚茨拉菲尔说，他的意识一片空白，嘴巴突然进入自动运行模式，“我想就是这个。谢谢。太感谢了。日安。”
“Hallo?” said the receiver. “Hallo.”
“你好？”那人说，“你好。”
If he had known that army life consisted chiefly of applying the one to the other, he used to muse, he would never have joined.
牛顿经常会想，如果过去知道军事生涯主要包括将剪刀作用于报纸，那他绝对不会入伍。
He listened to the ringing tone. Then a voice answered. It was a middle-aged voice, not unfriendly, but probably it had been having a nap and was not feeling at its best.
天使倾听着铃声。接着有人拿起电话。这是个中年人的声音，算不上粗暴，但他可能刚才正在午睡，现在感觉并不好。
Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell had made him a list, which was taped to the wall in Shadwell’s tiny crowded flat situated over Rajit’s Newsagents and Video Rental. The list read:
猎巫人中士沙德维尔给他列了张清单，就贴在这间局促拥挤的公寓墙壁上。这屋子位于拉吉特先生的报纸经销及录像带租赁店上面。单子上写道：
He also had a huge pile of newspapers.
他还有一大摞报纸。
It said “Tadfield Six double-six.”
那人说：“这里是塔德菲尔德六六六号。”
He replaced the receiver.
他说完就挂上听筒。
Newt was looking for either. He signed and picked up another newspaper, scanned the front page, opened it, ignored page two (never anything on there) then blushed crimson as he performed the obligatory nipple count on page three. Shadwell had been insistent about this. “Ye can’t trust them, the cunning buggers,” he said. “It’d be just like them to come right out in the open, like, defyin’ us.”
牛顿寻找着以上这两种东西。他叹了口气，又拿起一张报纸，扫了一眼头版，把报纸打开，略过二版（二版从来就没什么可看的），然后脸色绯红地履行着数清三版女郎乳头数目的任务。沙德维尔对这个问题态度强硬。“侬不能信任她们，这帮娘们儿贼得很。”他说，“女巫很可能在明面上抛头露面，就好像跟咱叫板。”
Unexplainable Phenomenons. Phenomenatrices. Phenomenice. Things, ye ken well what I mean.
2）无法解释的现象。现像。现相。事情，你很清楚我在说什么。
“Sorry,” he said, “Right number.”
“抱歉。”他说，“打对电话了。”
Aziraphale’s hand started to shake.
亚茨拉菲尔的手又开始哆嗦。
Aziraphale got a grip on himself.
天使稳住心情。
Witches.
1）巫师。
Newt wasn’t deaf. And he did have his own scissors.
牛顿不聋。他的确有剪刀。
“You want to watch him. He’s one o’ them,” he said.
“侬该去盯着伊。伊决计是个巫师。”中士说。
“He does give us the newspapers free, though, Sergeant,” said Newt. “And they’re not too old.”
“但他免费送咱们报纸，中士。”牛顿说，“而且还不算太旧。”
There was a muffled thumping on the door.
门口传来一阵沉闷的敲击声。
A couple in black turtleneck sweaters glowered at the camera on page nine. They claimed to lead the largest coven in Saffron Walden, and to restore sexual potency by the use of small and very phallic dolls. The newspaper was offering ten of the dolls to readers who were prepared to write “My Most Embarrassing Moment of Impotency” stories. Newt cut the story out and stuck it into a scrapbook.
一对穿黑色圆领衫的夫妇在九版广告中横眉立目。他们自称领导着萨夫伦沃尔登地区最大的女巫集会团体，可以用极具生殖崇拜特色的小玩偶帮助人们恢复性能力。报纸上说他们要免费提供十个玩偶，送给写下“我最尴尬的性无能经历”并寄给他们的读者。牛顿把这篇报道剪下来，放进剪贴簿。
“Who, sir?”
“谁，长官？”
Newt opened it; a pile of newspapers stood there. “Shift yerself, Private Pulsifer,” it barked, and it shufed into the room. The newspapers fell to the floor, revealing Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell, who coughed, painfully, and relit his cigarette, which had gone out.
牛顿把门打开，一摞报纸站在外面。“挪挪屁股，二等兵帕西法。”它高叫着蹭进房间。报纸落在地板上，显出了猎巫人中士沙德维尔的身形。他痛苦地咳嗽两声，重新点起已经熄灭的纸烟。
“Tak yer ease, Private. Him. That little brown feller. Mister socalled Rajit. It’s them terrible forn arts. The ruby squinty eye of the little yellow god. Women wi’ too many arms. Witches, the lot o’ them.”
“稍息，二等兵。就他。那黑不溜丢的小个子。所谓的拉吉特先生。那些恶心的艺术品。红眼斜视的小黄神。好多胳膊的邪教女神。还有女巫，这些玩意儿海了去了。”
“Ah,” said Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell, and took another drag on his cigarette. Or appeared to. Newt had never actually quite seen one of his superior’s cigarettes — it was something to do with the way he cupped his hands. He even made the ends disappear when he’d finished with them. “Ah.”
“啊。”猎巫人中士沙德维尔说着又点了根烟。或者说貌似又点了一根。牛顿从没看清长官的烟卷——主要是因为沙德维尔老用手挡在前面。他抽完后，甚至会让烟蒂都随之消失。“啊。”
“But Mister Rajit’s from Bangladesh, or India, or somewhere,” he said. “I thought voodoo came from the West Indies.”
“但拉吉特先生来自孟加拉，或是印度，或是别的什么地方。”他说，“我听说伏都教来自西印度群岛。”
Newt tried to picture Shadwell’s landlord as an exponent of voodoo. Certainly Mr. Rajit worked on the Sabbath. In fact, with his plump quiet wife and plump cheerful children he worked around the clock, never mind the calendar, diligently filling the area’s needs in the matter of soft drinks, white bread, tobacco, sweets, newspapers, magazines, and the type of top-shelf pornography that made Newt’s eyes water just to think about. The worst you could imagine Mr. Rajit doing with a chicken was selling it after the “Sell-By” date.
牛顿试图把沙德维尔的房东想象成一名伏都教徒。拉吉特先生的确在安息日工作。实际上，他和他富态安静的妻子，再加上富态欢闹的孩子们，几乎不休不眠地工作着，从来不考虑是星期几。他们兢兢业业地满足着附近居民的需求，提供软饮料、白面包、烟草、糖果、报纸、杂志和放在货架最上层的色情文学——牛顿一想起来就眼睛发酸。在他心目中，拉吉特先生能对小鸡所下的毒手，顶多也就是在保质期过后出售它们了。
“And voodoo. I bet he does voodoo. Sacrificing chickens to that Baron Saturday. Ye know, tall darkie bugger in the top hat. Brings people back from the dead, aye, and makes them work on the Sabbath day. Voodoo.” Shadwell sniffed speculatively.
“还有伏都教。俺打赌伊会施伏都巫术。把小鸡儿献祭给丧尸之神撒麦迪男爵。侬晓得，那戴高帽的黑杂种。唤醒死鬼，嗯，还强令伊在安息日干活。伏都巫术。”沙德维尔试探着抽了抽鼻子。
“Errrukh! Yes lad, that’s it. Words right out of me mouth. Bangladesh. Exactly.”
“就是它！对，小子，是这个。话都到嘴边了。孟加拉。没跑儿。”
“Hidden wisdom, lad. Inner mili’try secrets of the Witchfinder army. When you’re all initiated proper ye’ll know the secret truth. Some voodoo may come from the West Indies. I’ll grant ye that. Oh yes, I’ll grant ye that. But the worst kind. The darkest kind, that comes from, um…”
“这是秘密，小子。猎巫人部队的内部军事机密。等侬成了正式成员，就会晓得被掩藏起来的真相。有些伏都教徒可能来自西印度群岛。俺可以向侬保证。哦，没跑儿，俺可以向侬保证。但最恐怖的那些，最黑暗的那些，都来自，嗯…”
“Well, doesn’t it?”
“嗯，不是吗？”
“So. Ye got anything, Witchfinder Private?”
“那么。侬有什么新发现吗，猎巫人二等兵？”
Shadwell made the end of his cigarette vanish, and managed furtively to roll another, never letting papers or tobacco be seen.
沙德维尔把烟蒂搞没了，然后又偷偷摸摸卷了一支，从不让烟纸或烟丝被人看到。
“Well, there’s this.” Newton held out the clipping.
“哦，这儿有一个。”牛顿拿出剪贴簿。
“Bangladesh?”
“孟加拉？”
Shadwell squinted at it. “Oh them,” he said. “Load o’ rubbish. Call themselves bloody witches? I checked them out last year. Went down with me armory of righteousness and a packet of firelighters, jemmied the place open, they were clean as a whistle. Mail order bee jelly business they’re trying to pep up. Load o’ rubbish. Wouldn’t know a familiar spirit if it chewed out the bottoms o’ their trousers. Rubbish. It’s not like it used to be, laddie.”
沙德维尔瞄了一眼。“哦，他们。”他说，“一对儿狗屎。自称是该死的巫师？俺去年去打听过。带着俺的正义武装和一包点火物，直接闯了进去，伊清白得像两只小羊羔，忙着做什么邮购蜂王浆的营生。一对儿狗屎。就算被个把小恶魔咬穿了裤子，他们也认不出来。垃圾。如今这世道可是跟过去不一样了，小子儿。”
Newt took this as his cue to sit down. He shook his head. Shadwell lit his roll-up with a battered Ronson lighter, and coughed appreciatively.
牛顿将这话视作允许自己就座的暗号。他摇了摇头。沙德维尔用一个破破烂烂的朗森打火机点起烟卷，满足地咳嗽两声。
“My cellmate, he was. Witchfinder Captain Ffolkes. Ten years for arson. Burning a coven in Wimbledon. Would have got them all too, if it wasn’t the wrong day. Good fellow. Told me about the battle — the great war between Heaven and Hell… It was him that told me the Inner Secrets of the Witchfinder Army. Familiar spirits. Nipples. All that…”
“俺的室友——猎巫人上尉福克斯，纵火罪判了十年，烧了温布尔登一个女巫集会所。本可以把她们一勺烩了，可惜搞错了日子。是个好人。给俺讲了大战，天堂与地狱间的最后一仗…是伊给俺讲了猎巫人部队的内部机密。小恶魔。乳头。所有这些…”
“Did I ever tell you how I was recruited to the army?” he asked.
“俺跟侬讲过，俺是怎么加入部队的吗？”他问。
He sat down and poured himself a cup of sweet tea from a filthy thermos.
中士坐下来，从一个脏兮兮的热水瓶里给自己倒了杯甜茶。
“That’s what we’m reduced to, lad,” he said. “A few hundred years ago, see, we was powerful. We stood between the world and the darkness. We was the thin red line. Thin red line o’ fire, ye see.”
“这就是咱眼巴前儿的状况，小子儿。”他说，“要搁几百年前，侬晓得，咱是大拿。咱站在世人与黑暗之间。咱是那条细细的红线。火焰的红线，侬晓得。”
“Pah!” said Shadwell. Newt had seen the word in print, but this was the first time he’d ever heard anyone say it. “Churches? What good did they ever do? They’m just as bad. Same line o’ business, nearly. You can’t trust them to stamp out the Evil One, ‘cos if they did, they’d be out o’ that line o’ business. If yer goin’ up against a tiger, ye don’t want fellow travellers whose idea of huntin’ is tae throw meat at it. Nay, lad. It’s up to us. Against the darkness.”
“咄！”沙德维尔说。牛顿曾在书里见过这个字眼，但还是头一回听到有人说出口。“教会？他们干过啥好事？也够坏的。半斤八两。侬不能指望丫们扫奸除恶。如果丫们这么干，就等于坏了自己的买卖。侬要对付老虎，就别指望觉得狩猎只是朝猎物扔鲜肉的同伴。别瞎琢磨了，小子儿。对抗黑暗。全靠咱。”
“I thought the churches…” Newt began.
“我以为教会…”牛顿开口说。
“Knew he was dying, you see. Got to have someone to carry on the tradition. Like you is, now…” He shook his head.
“他自知快不行了，侬晓得。得找个人把老理儿传下去。就像侬现在…”他摇了摇头。
Everything went quiet for a moment.
屋里突然安静下来。
Newt always tried to see the best in everyone, but it had occurred to him shortly after joining the WA that his superior and only fellow soldier was as well balanced as an upturned pyramid. “Shortly,” in this case, meant under five seconds. The WA’s headquarters was a fetid room with walls the color of nicotine, which was almost certainly what they were coated with, and a floor the color of cigarette ash, which was almost certainly what it was. There was a small square of carpet. Newt avoided walking on it if possible, because it sucked at his shoes.
牛顿总是努力看到别人最好的一面，但他加入猎巫军后，很快就发现自己的上级——也是仅有的同袍——脾气就像倒置的金字塔一样稳定和谐。“很快”这个词，在这里表示不到五秒钟。猎巫军总部是一间泛着恶臭的小房间，有尼古丁色的四壁——几乎可以肯定那上面涂的就是尼古丁，以及烟灰色的地板——也几乎可以肯定那就是烟灰。这里还有张小地毯。牛顿尽可能绕着它走，因为这玩意儿会粘住鞋。
One of the walls had a yellowing map of the British Isles tacked to it, with homemade flags sticking in it here and there; most of them were within a Cheap Day Return fare of London.
有面墙上贴着一张泛黄的不列颠群岛地图，上面插了许多自制标记：多数以伦敦为中心，位于“廉价一日游”范围之内。
But Newt had stuck with it the past few weeks because, well, horrified fascination had turned into horrified pity and then a sort of horrified affection. Shadwell had turned out to be about five feet high and wore clothes which, no matter what they actually were, always turned up even in your short-term memory as an old mackintosh. The old man may have had all his own teeth, but only because no one else could possibly have wanted them; just one of them, placed under the pillow, would have made the Tooth Fairy hand in its wand.
但牛顿过去几周还是老往这儿跑。那是因为，这么说吧，极端的幻想变成了极端的怜悯，进而演化为极端的好感。沙德维尔有五英尺高，无论身上穿什么衣服，都会在人们的记忆——哪怕是短期记忆——中变成一件老胶皮雨衣。小老头的牙倒是一个不缺，但这是因为谁都不可能想要它们。只要在枕头下随便放上一颗，就可以让所有牙仙退避三舍。
He appeared to live entirely on sweet tea, condensed milk, handrolled cigarettes, and a sort of sullen internal energy. Shadwell had a Cause, which he followed with the full resources of his soul and his Pensioner’s Concessionary Travel Pass. He believed in it. It powered him like a turbine.
他似乎完全靠甜茶、炼乳、手卷纸烟和体内郁积的能量维持生命。沙德维尔有个人生理想，他用自己的全部灵魂和退休人员特许旅行券来追求这个目标。这是他的信仰，而这信仰就像一台引擎驱动着老人。
Newton Pulsifer had never had a cause in his life. Nor had he, as far as he knew, ever believed in anything. It had been embarrassing, because he quite wanted to believe in something, since he recognized that belief was the lifebelt that got most people through the choppy waters of Life. He’d have liked to believe in a supreme God, although he’d have preferred a half-hour’s chat with Him before committing himself, to clear up one or two points. He’d sat in all sorts of churches, waiting for that single flash of blue light, and it hadn’t come. And then he’d tried to become an official Atheist and hadn’t got the rock-hard, self-satisfied strength of belief even for that. And every single political party had seemed to him equally dishonest. And he’d given up on ecology when the ecology magazine he’d been subscribing to had shown its readers a plan of a self-sufficient garden, and had drawn the ecological goat tethered within three feet of the ecological beehive. Newt had spent a lot of time at his grandmother’s house in the country and thought he knew something about the habits of both goats and bees, and concluded therefore that the magazine was run by a bunch of bib-overalled maniacs. Besides, it used the word “community” too often; Newt had always suspected that people who regularly used the word “community” were using it in a very specific sense that excluded him and everyone he knew.
牛顿·帕西法这辈子从没有过人生目标。就他所知，也从来没有信仰。这实在让人难堪，因为牛顿特别想有个信仰，他认为信仰就像救生圈，帮助大多数人在生命的惊涛骇浪中拼搏。他很希望相信至高的上帝，但他也希望在把自己托付出去之前，跟全能的主聊上半小时，弄清一两个问题。他曾坐在各种教堂里，等待那一道光辉降下，但它没有出现。后来牛顿试图成为无神论者，但同样没有坚如磐石的信念来支持这一论断。在他看来，所有政治团体都同样虚伪。牛顿放弃了环保主义，因为他订阅的环保杂志向读者们展示了一个自给自足的花园计划，画面上有一头系在环保蜂房三英尺以内的环保山羊。牛顿曾在乡下祖母家住过很长时间，自认为多少懂点山羊和蜜蜂的习性，因此得出结论这杂志肯定是由一群疯子经营的。另外，它老是用“圈”这个词。牛顿始终怀疑，习惯用“圈”这个词的人，肯定是把他和他认识的所有人都圈在了外边。
But he found he rather liked Shadwell. People often did, much to Shadwell’s annoyance. The Rajits liked him because he always eventually paid his rent and didn’t cause any trouble, and was racist in such a glowering, undirected way that it was quite inoffensive; it was simply that Shadwell hated everyone in the world, regardless of caste, color, or creed, and wasn’t going to make any exceptions for anyone.
可他发现自己挺喜欢沙德维尔的。人们总是这样，令中士不胜其扰。拉吉特喜欢他，是因为沙德维尔最终总会交出房租，也从来不找麻烦。而且他的种族主义倾向张扬无度，普适性极强，以致全然无害。沙德维尔讨厌世上每一个人，无论什么种族、肤色、血统，都难逃此劫。
Newt had not believed in the Cub Scouts and then, when he was old enough, not in the Scouts either.
他不相信幼童军，年纪稍大后，同样不相信童子军。
He was prepared to believe, though, that the job of wages clerk at United Holdings [Holdings] PLC, was possibly the most boring in the world.
但他几乎已然相信联合控股（控股）股票上市公司的职员，是世界上最无聊的工作。
To Newt’s straightforward mind this was intolerable.
对一根筋的牛顿来说，这是不可容忍的。
Then he’d tried believing in the Universe, which seemed sound enough until he’d innocently started reading new books with words like Chaos and Time and Quantum in the titles. He’d found that even the people whose job of work was, so to speak, the Universe, didn’t really believe in it and were actually quite proud of not knowing what it really was or even if it could theoretically exist.
他还试过信仰宇宙，这似乎还算圆满。但后来他天真地开始阅读一些标题中包含“混沌”“时空”和“量子”的新书。牛顿发现就连干这行的人都不怎么相信宇宙，而且还为不知道它到底是什么，甚至是不知道它理论上是否存在而备感自豪。
This is how Newton Pulsifer looked as a man: if he went into a phone booth and changed, he might manage to come out looking like Clark Kent.
牛顿·帕西法差不多是这样的人：如果他走进电话亭换了套衣服，那么出来时有可能貌似克拉克·肯特，但绝对不像超人。
Madame Tracy liked him. Newt had been amazed to find that the tenant of the other flat was a middle-aged, motherly soul, whose gentlemen callers called as much for a cup of tea and a nice chat as for what little discipline she was still able to exact. Sometimes, when he’d nursed a half pint of Guinness on a Saturday night, Shadwell would stand in the corridor between their rooms and shout things like “hoor of Babylon!” but she told Newt privately that she’d always felt rather gratified about this even though the closest she’d been to Babylon was Torremolinos. It was like free advertising, she said.
特蕾西夫人也喜欢他。牛顿惊讶地发现另一间公寓的住客，是位慈爱善良的中年妇女。她那些绅士客户只是过来喝茶聊天的次数，至少跟来享受她尚能提供的微末技艺的次数相当。有时候，当牛顿在周六晚上慢慢饮用半品脱健力士啤酒时，沙德维尔会站在他们公寓之间的走廊里，叫喊着“巴比伦娼妇”之类的话。但特蕾西夫人曾私下对牛顿说，尽管她到过的最接近巴比伦的地方，只是西班牙的托雷莫里诺斯，但还是挺感激沙德维尔这么说的。这就像免费广告，她如是说。
She said she didn’t mind him banging on the wall and swearing during her seance afternoons, either. Her knees had been giving her gyp and she wasn’t always up to operating the table rapper, she said, so a bit of muffled thumping came in useful.
特蕾西夫人还说，自己也不介意中士在她下午开降神会时敲墙壁。她的膝盖老是疼，很难适时敲响桌子，假装通灵事件，所以一点沉闷的敲击声也很有用。
You couldn’t help liking Shadwell, she said. For all the good it did, though, she might as well be flicking bread pellets into a black hole.
你没法不喜欢沙德维尔，特蕾西夫人说。但无论如何，这跟往黑洞里扔面包团没什么区别。
On Sundays she’d leave him a bit of dinner on his doorstep, with another plate over the top of it to keep it warm.
每到周日，她都会在沙德维尔门外放一盘晚餐，上面还扣个盘子用来保温。
“Any cows droppin’ dead after some woman has looked at ’em?”
“有母牛被某个老娘们儿瞅上一眼，没两天就挂了吗？”
He’d spent weeks on this. Shadwell had really let the papers pile up. Some of them went back for years. Newt had quite a good memory, perhaps because in his twenty-six years very little had happened to fill it up, and he had become quite expert on some very esoteric subjects.
他已经在这上面花费了几周时间。沙德维尔积攒了不少报纸。有些甚至是几年前的。牛顿记性很好，也许是因为在他二十六年的生命中很少有什么事值得记忆。如今他在某些神秘事件上，已经相当内行了。
“I’m afraid not.”
“恐怕没有。”
Newt remembered the other cuttings. He pushed them across the stained desk.
牛顿记起了其他剪报。他顺着褪色的桌子把剪贴簿推给中士。
“What are these?” said Shadwell, suspiciously.
“这是甚？”沙德维尔狐疑地说。
“Anyone bin shootin’ hares wi’ a silver bullet and next day an old crone in the village is walkin’ wi’ a limp?” Shadwell said hopefully.
“有人用银子弹打野兔，结果转天镇上有个老太太瘸了条腿吗？”沙德维尔满怀希望地问。
“What is it, then?” said Shadwell. He shuffled across to the sticky brown cupboard and pulled out a tin of condensed milk.
“那到底有些甚？”沙德维尔说着走到黏乎乎的棕色餐橱前，拿出一罐炼乳。
“No.”
“没有。”
“Phenomena,” said Newt. “You said to look for phenomena. There’s more phenomena than witches these days, I’m afraid.”
“现象。”牛顿说，“您说要搜寻各种现象。恐怕这年头现象要比女巫多。”
“Odd things happening,” said Newt.
“有些怪事。”牛顿说。
“Seems to be something new every day,” said Newt, flicking through the rectangles of newsprint. “Something weird has been happening to nuclear power stations, and no one seems to know what it is. And some people are claiming that the Lost Continent of Atlantis has risen.” He looked proud of his efforts.
“似乎每天都有新鲜事。”牛顿翻着一张张新闻纸说，“核电站出了点怪事，没人清楚到底是什么。还有人声称失落的亚特兰蒂斯大陆又升出海面了。”他为自己的成果感到自豪。
Shadwell’s penknife punctured the condensed milk tin. There was the distant sound of a telephone ringing. Both men instinctively ignored it. All the calls were for Madame Tracy anyway and some of them were not intended for the ear of man; Newt had conscientiously answered the phone on his first day, listened carefully to the question, said “Marks and Spencer’s 100% Cotton Y-fronts, actually,” and had been left with a dead receiver.
沙德维尔把小刀戳进炼乳罐。遥远的电话铃声响起。他们俩都本能地置若罔闻。所有电话都是打给特蕾西夫人的，其中有一部分不适合男人的耳朵。牛顿头一天上班时，曾好心接了一通电话；认真聆听过对方的问题后，他说了句“实际上是玛莎百货公司的100％纯棉男士紧身内裤”，话筒中随即传出忙音。
Shadwell sucked deeply. “Ach, that’s no’ proper phenomena,” he said. “Can’t see any witches doing that. They’re more for the sinking o’ things, ye ken.”
沙德维尔使劲吸了一口。“哼，全是八杆子拨拉不着的鸟事儿。”他说，“肯定不是巫师干的。侬晓得，她们更擅长把东西整沉。”
Newt’s mouth opened and shut a few times.
牛顿数次张开嘴巴，又数次闭上。
“Any witches on it?” said Shadwell, showing a spark of interest for the first time.
“上边儿有女巫吗？”沙德维尔的语气中头一次冒出兴趣的火花。
“But American troops have landed on it to protect it from things,” moaned Newt. “A non-existent continent…”
“但美国军队已经登陆，并将它监管起来。”牛顿呻吟道，“一块不存在的大陆…”
“If we’re strong in the fight against witchery we can’t afford to be sidetracked by this style o’ thing,” Shadwell went on. “Haven’t ye got anything more witchcrafty?”
“如果咱想集中精力整治巫术，就不能被这种鸟事牵扯精力。”沙德维尔继续说，“侬就没找出更有巫术感觉的东西吗？”
“It doesn’t say,” said Newt.
“上面没写。”牛顿说。
Newt looked despondently at his cuttings as Shadwell went out, grumbling, to the phone. There was one about the stones of Stonehenge moving out of position, as though they were iron filings in a magnetic field.
沙德维尔嘟嘟囔囔走向电话时，牛顿沮丧地看着桌上的剪报。这里面有篇报道提到巨石阵移动了位置，就好像它们是磁场中的铁屑。
“Awa’ wi’ ye, harlot,” said Shadwell, automatically.
“一边待着去，妓女。”沙德维尔条件反射地说。
“So if you’d let me have the plates back from last week it’d be a help, there’s a love,” said Madame Tracy, and tottered unsteadily back on three-inch heels to her flat and whatever it was that had been interrupted.
“所以如果你能把上周的盘子还给我就帮大忙了，这才是好孩子。”特蕾西夫人说完就踩着三英寸的高跟鞋，摇摇晃晃地走向自己的房间和被打断的生意。
“Ach, then it’s just politics and geography,” said Shadwell dismissively.
“哼，那就只是政治和地理问题了。”沙德维尔不屑地说。
“He sounds ever so refined,” said Madame Tracy, taking no notice. “And I’ll be getting us a nice bit of liver for Sunday.”
“他的声音特别优雅。”特蕾西夫人完全没有理会中士的侮辱，“另外我周日会给大家做点猪肝。”
Madame Tracy poked her head around the door. “Coo-ee, Mr. Shadwell,” she said, giving Newt a friendly little wave. “A gentleman on the telephone for you. Hallo, Mr. Newton.”
特蕾西夫人突然从门口探头进来。“嗨，沙德维尔先生，电话里有位绅士找你。”她说完又冲牛顿友好地挥了挥手。“你好，牛顿先生。”
“I’d sooner sup wi’ the De’el, wumman.”
“俺宁肯跟魔鬼共进晚餐，女人。”
“Who? Ah. Aye. Aye. Ye say? Wha’ class o’ thing wud that be? Aye. Just as you say, sor. And where is this place, then –?”
“谁啊？啊。中。中。侬是说？啥事体？中。侬说了算，先生。那么是在啥地方…”
He was vaguely aware of one side of a telephone conversation.
牛顿隐约听到了中士的单方面谈话。
But mysteriously moving stones wasn’t Shadwell’s cup of tea or, rather, tin of milk.
但神秘的移动巨石这盘菜，或者说这罐炼乳，肯定不合沙德维尔的胃口。
“All these things that are happening –” Newt began.
“所有这些怪事…”牛顿开口说。
He shuffled back into the room, and then stared at Newt as if he had forgotten why he was there.
中士走回房间，盯着牛顿，似乎忘了他为什么在这儿。
“Well, there’s this little town which has been having some amazing weather for the last few years,” Newt went on helplessly.
“哦，这里有个小镇过去几年天气状况特别神奇。”牛顿绝望地继续说道。
“Aye.” Shadwell continued to look through him while thoughtfully tapping the empty tin against his teeth.
“中。”沙德维尔依旧看着他，同时若有所思地用空罐子敲着牙齿。
“What was it ye was goin’ on about?” he said.
“侬到底在叨咕些甚？”他说。
“Fine, fine,” Shadwell reassured the caller. “We’ll get onto it right awa’. I’ll put my best squad on it and report success to ye any minute, I ha’ no doubt. Goodbye to you, sor. And bless you too, sor.” There was the ting of a receiver going back on the hook, and then Shadwell’s voice, no longer metaphorically crouched in deference, said, “‘Dear boy’! Ye great southern pansy.” [Shadwell hated all southerners and, by inference, was standing at the North Pole.]
“中，中。”沙德维尔向对方保证说，“俺们马上就去调查。俺会投入顶尖儿小队，随时可能向侬报告喜讯。绝没问题。回见，先生。也祝福侬，先生。”听筒挂回电话发出“叮”的一声，接着沙德维尔用不再恭顺谨慎的声音喊道：“瓜娃子！这帮娘娘腔南蛮子！”（沙德维尔痛恨所有南方人，而在这个问题上，他站在北极点。）
“What? Rainin’ frogs and similar?” said Shadwell, brightening up a bit.
“啥？下青蛙雨之类的玩意儿了？”沙德维尔似乎打起一点精神。
“Call that a phenomena?” said Shadwell. “I’ve seen phenomenas that’d make your hair curl, laddie.” He started tapping again.
“介也算现象？”沙德维尔说，“俺见过的现象，能让侬寒毛倒竖，小赤佬。”中士又开始敲牙。
“No. It just has normal weather for the time of year.”
“不。只是一年四季的正常天气。”
“I never used to dream when I was a kid,” he said quietly.
“俺小时候从不做梦。”中士轻声说道。
Newt was aware of skidding around the lip of some deep, unpleasant pit. He mentally backed away.
牛顿发现自己正在一个令人不快的大坑边缘溜达。他在潜意识里退开两步。
“It’s just very odd,” he said. “There’s a weatherman here talking about averages and norms and microclimates and things like that.”
“反正就是很奇怪。”他说，“报纸上有个气象专家在谈论平均值、标准值和小气候之类的概念。”
Shadwell’s eyes looked unfocussed. He paused with the condensed milk tin halfway to his lips.
沙德维尔的目光有些蒙眬。炼乳罐也停在了他的双唇之间。
“When do you remember normal weather for the time of year?” said Newt, slightly annoyed. “Normal weather for the time of year isn’t normal, Sergeant. It has snow at Christmas. When did you last see snow at Christmas? And long hot Augusts? Every year? And crisp autumns? The kind of weather you used to dream of as a kid? It never rained on November the Fifth and always snowed on Christmas Eve?”
“你何时见到一年四季有正常天气？”牛顿略显烦躁地说，“一年四季的正常天气就不正常，中士。那个小镇圣诞节会下雪。你上次在圣诞节看到雪是哪年？还有炎热漫长的8月？每年都是？清爽的秋季？你小时候做梦都想遇到的那种天气？11月5日的篝火节从不下雨，每年圣诞前夜都要落雪？”
“What’s that mean?” said Shadwell.
“那都是什么鬼玩意儿？”沙德维尔说。
“Means he doesn’t know why,” said Newt, who hadn’t spent years on the littoral of business without picking up a thing or two. He looked sidelong at the Witchfinder Sergeant.
“意思是说他也不知道为什么。”牛顿说。一个人在职场混了这么多年，总要学会一两招。他斜眼瞟了下猎巫人中士。
Shadwell wiped his upper lip thoughtfully.
沙德维尔若有所思地抹了抹上唇。
Shadwell ignored him. “Aye. I suppose it can’t do any harm. Yell pay yer ane petrol, ye say?”
沙德维尔没理他。“嗯。俺想这也没啥害处。侬出汽油钱，侬刚才说？”
“Wonder what the Southerners is playing at noo?” said Shadwell under his breath.
“这儿些南蛮子到底在鼓捣什么鬼把戏？”沙德维尔轻声自语道。
“That’s right, Mr. Shadwell,” said Newt. “How did you know that?”
“没错，沙德维尔先生。”牛顿说，“你怎么知道的？”
“Who’ll be playing, Sergeant?” said Newt.
“谁在玩把戏，中士？”牛顿说。
Oh God, he thought, or other suitable entity, don’t let me spend another evening cutting newspapers to bits in this ashtray of a room. Let me get out in the fresh air. Let me do whatever is the WA’s equivalent of going waterskiing in Germany.
哦，上帝啊，他心想，或者其他合适的神祇，别让我在这间烟灰缸里再花一晚上把报纸剪成碎片了。让我出去呼吸一下新鲜空气，让我做些在猎巫军活动中等同于到德国滑水的事情吧。
“Witches are well known for affecting the weather,” he prompted. “I looked it up in the Discouverie.”
“女巫们擅长影响天气。”他提示说，“我在探索频道看过。”
“Weeell,” he said, out loud. “And why not?”
“中。”他接着大声说，“就这么着。”
“This place,” he said, “it wouldna be called Tadfield, would it?”
“这儿地方。”他说，“是叫塔德菲尔德，对吗？”
“It’s only forty miles away,” he said tentatively. “I thought I could just sort of nip over there tomorrow. And have a look around, you know. I’ll pay my own petrol,” he added.
“只有四十英里远。”他试探着说，“我想明天我可以过去一趟，然后四处瞧瞧，您知道。我自己出汽油钱。”他补充道。
Newt nodded.
牛顿点点头。
“Then yell come here at nine o’ the clock in the morning,” he said, “afore ye go.”
“那侬明天上午九点过来。”他说，“在出发前。”
“Two calls in one day, Mr. Shadwell,” she said, “Your little army must be marching away like anything!”
“一天两个电话，沙德维尔先生。”她说，“你的小部队肯定要玩儿命前进了！”
“Ach, awa’ wi’ ye, ye murrain plashed berrizene,” muttered Shadwell, and slammed the door. Tadfield, he thought. Och, weel. So long as they paid up on time…
“哼，快走开，侬这道德沦丧的渣滓。”沙德维尔嘟囔着把门一摔。塔德菲尔德，他心想，哼，好吧。只要他们按时付钱…
“Yer armor o’ righteousness.”
“拿侬的正义武装。”
“What for?” said Newt.
“干什么？”牛顿说。
Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley ran the Witchfinder Army, but they both approved of it, or at least knew that it would be approved of by their superiors. So it appeared on the list of Aziraphale’s agencies because it was, well, a Witchfinder Army, and you had to support anyone calling themselves witchfinders in the same way that the U. S. A. had to support anyone calling themselves anti-communist. And it appeared on Crowley’s list for the slightly more sophisticated reason that people like Shadwell did the cause of Hell no harm at all. Quite the reverse, it was felt.
亚茨拉菲尔和克鲁利都不是猎巫军的领导，但他们都支持这个组织，或者说至少知道他们的上司会支持这个组织。它出现在亚茨拉菲尔的代理人名单上是因为，哦，它是“猎巫军”。你必须支持任何自称猎巫人的团体，就好像美国必须支持任何自称反共组织的团体。至于它出现在克鲁利名单上的原因，就稍显复杂。像沙德维尔这样的人不会对地狱造成半点损害。事实正好相反。
Just after Newt had left the phone rang again. This time it was Crowley, who gave approximately the same instructions as Aziraphale. Shadwell took them down again for form’s sake, while Madame Tracy hovered delightedly behind him.
不久后，牛顿又听任一通电话响了半天。这次是克鲁利，他给出的指示基本与亚茨拉菲尔相同。沙德维尔应付差事地再次记录下来，与此同时特蕾西夫人兴致勃勃地在他身后打转。
Strictly speaking, Shadwell didn’t run the WA either. According to Shadwell’s pay ledgers it was run by Witchfinder General Smith. Under him were Witchfinder Colonels Green and Jones, and Witchfinder Majors Jackson, Robinson, and Smith (no relation). Then there were Witchfinder Majors Saucepan, Tin, Milk, and Cupboard, because Shadwell’s limited imagination had been beginning to struggle at this point. And Witchfinder Captains Smith, Smith, Smith, and Smythe and Ditto. And five hundred Witchfinder Privates and Corporals and Sergeants. Many of them were called Smith, but this didn’t matter because neither Crowley nor Aziraphale had ever bothered to read that far. They simply handed over the pay.
严格来讲，沙德维尔也不是猎巫军的领导。根据中士手中的薪水册记录，这支部队由猎巫人将军史密斯统领。其下是猎巫人上校格林和琼斯，以及猎巫人少校杰克森、罗宾森和史密斯（与前者无亲属关系）。还有猎巫人少校汤锅、罐头、牛奶和茶几，这是因为沙德维尔有限的想象力已经开始枯竭。再往下是猎巫人上尉史密斯、史密斯、史密斯、斯密史及同上。其后是五百名猎巫人二等兵、下士和中士。大多数都叫史密斯，但这无关紧要，克鲁利和亚茨拉菲尔都懒得看名录。他们直接出钱。
Shadwell didn’t consider this in any way criminal. The army was a sacred trust, and a man had to do something. The old ninepences weren’t coming in like they used to.
沙德维尔并不认为这是犯罪。这支军队是一笔神圣的信托财产，一个人总要做点什么。而古老的九便士可不能像当年那么赚了。
After all, both lots put together only came to around £60 a year.
毕竟，这些人加在一块儿每年才六十英镑。
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