【英文小说】少年犯.docx

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1、【英文小说】少年犯 Juvenile DelinquentTick-de-tock, tick-de-tock, whispered the antique clock on the first floor of the house.There was no sound save for the tickingand for the pounding of Ronnies heart.He stood alone in his upstairs bedroom. His slender-boned, eight-year-old body trembling, perspiration gli

2、ttering on his white forehead.To Ronnie, the clock seemed to be saying:Daddys coming, Daddys coming.The soft shadows of September twilight in this year of 2056 were seeping into the bedroom. Ronnie welcomed the fall of darkness. He wanted to sink into its deep silence, to become one with it, to esca

3、pe forever from savage tongues and angry eyes.A burst of hope entered Ronnies fear-filled eyes. Maybe something would happen. Maybe Dad would have an accident. MaybeHe bit his lip hard, shook his head. No. No matter what Dad might do, it wasnt right to wishThe whirling whine of a gyro-car mushroomed

4、 up from the landing platform outside.Ronnie shivered, his pulse quickening. The muscles in his small body were like a web of taut-drawn wires.Sound and movement below. Mom flicking off the controls of the kitchens Auto-Chef. The slow stride of her high heels through the living room. The slamming of

5、 a gyro-car door. The opening of the front door of the house.Dads deep, happy voice echoed up the stairway:Hi, beautiful!Ronnie huddled in the darkness by the half-open bedroom door.Please, Mama, his mind cried, please dont tell Daddy what I did.There was a droning, indistinct murmur.Dad burst, He w

6、as doing what?More murmuring.I cant believe it. You really saw him?. Ill be damned.Ronnie silently closed the bedroom door.Why did you tell him, Mama? Why did you have to tell him?Ronnie! Dad called.Ronnie held his breath. His legs seemed as numb and nerveless as the stumps of dead trees.Ronnie! Com

7、e down here!Like an automaton, Ronnie shuffled out of his bedroom. He stepped on the big silver disk on the landing. The auto-stairs clicked into humming movement under his weight.To his left, on the wall, he caught kaleidoscopic glimpses of Moms old pictures, copies of paintings by medieval artists

8、 like Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Dali. The faces seemed to be mocking him. Ronnie felt like a wounded bird falling out of the sky.He saw that Dad and Mom were waiting for him.Moms round blue eyes were full of mist and sadness. She hadnt bothered to smooth her clipped, creamy-brown hair as she alw

9、ays did when Dad was coming home.And Dad, handsome in his night-black, skin-tight Pentagon uniform, had become a hostile stranger with narrowed eyes of black fire.Is it true, Ronnie? asked Dad. Were you reallyreally reading a book?Ronnie gulped. He nodded.Good Lord, Dad murmured. He took a deep brea

10、th and squatted down, held Ronnies arms and looked hard into his eyes. For an instant he became the kind, understanding father that Ronnie knew.Tell me all about it, son. Where did you get the book? Who taught you to read?Ronnie tried to keep his legs from shaking. It wasDaddy, you wont make trouble

11、, will you?This is between you and me, son. We dont care about anyone else.Well, it was Kenny Davis. HeDads fingers tightened on Ronnies arms. Kenny Davis! he spat. The boys no good. His father never had a job in his life. Nobodyd even offer him a job. Why, the whole town knows hes a Reader!Mom step

12、ped forward. David, you promised youd be sensible about this. You promised you wouldnt get angry.Dad grunted. All right, son. Go ahead.Well, one day after school Kenny said hed show me something. He took me to his houseYou went to that shack? You actuallyDear, said Mom. You promised.A moment of sile

13、nce.Ronnie said, He took me to his house. I met his dad. Mr. Davis is lots of fun. He has a beard and he paints pictures and hes collected almost five hundred books.Ronnies voice quavered.Go on, said Dad sternly.And Iand Mr. Davis said hed teach me to read them if I promised not to tell anybody. So

14、he taught me a little every day after schooloh, Dad, books are fun to read. They tell you things you cant see on the video or hear on the tapes.How long ago did all this start?Ttwo years ago.Dad rose, fists clenched, staring strangely at nothing.Two years, he breathed. I thought I had a good son, an

15、d yet for two years He shook his head unbelievingly. Maybe its my own fault. Maybe I shouldnt have come to this small town. I should have taken a house in Washington instead of trying to commute.David, said Mom, very seriously, almost as if she were praying, it wont be necessary to have him memory-w

16、ashed, will it?Dad looked at Mom, frowning. Then he gazed at Ronnie. His soft-spoken words were as ominous as the low growl of thunder:I dont know, Edith. I dont know.Dad strode to his easy chair by the fireplace. He sank into its foam-rubber softness, sighing. He murmured a syllable into a tiny bal

17、l-mike on the side of the chair. A metallic hand raised a lighted cigarette to his lips.Come here, son.Ronnie followed and sat on the hassock by Dads feet.Maybe Ive never really explained things to you, Ronnie. You see, you wont always be a boy. Someday youll have to find a way of making a living. Y

18、ouve only two choices: You work for the government, like I do, or for a corporation.Ronnie blinked. Mr. Davis doesnt work for the goverment or for a corpor-ation.Mr. Davis isnt normal, Dad snapped. Hes a hermit. No decent family would let him in their house. He grows his own food and sometimes he ta

19、kes care of gardens for people. I want you to have more than that. I want you to have a nice home and be respected by people.Dad puffed furiously on his cigarette.And you cant get ahead if people know youve been a Reader. Thats something you cant live down. No matter how hard you try, people always

20、stumble upon the truth.Dad cleared his throat. You see, when you get a job, all the information you handle will have a classification. Itll be Restricted, Low-Confidential, Confidential, High-Confidential, Secret, Top-Secret. And all this information will be in writing. No matter what you do, youll

21、have access to some of this information at one time or another.Bbut why do these things have to be so secret? Ronnie asked.Because of competitors, in the case of corporationsor because of enemy nations in the case of government work. The written material you might have access to could describe secre

22、t weapons and new processes or plans for next years advertisingmaybe even a scheme for, er, liquidation of a rival. If all facts and policies were made public, there might be criticism, controversy, opposition by certain groups. The less people know about things, the better. So we have to keep all t

23、hese things secret.Ronnie scowled. But if things are written down, someone has to read them, dont they?Sure, son. One person in ten thousand might reach the point where his corporation or bureau will teach him to read. But you prove your ability and loyalty first. By the time youre 35 or 40, they mi

24、ght want you to learn to read. But for young people and childrenwell, it just isnt done. Why, the President himself wasnt trusted to learn till he was nearly fifty!Dad straightened his shoulders. Look at me. Im only 30, but Ive been a messenger for Secret material already. In a few years, if things

25、go well, I should be handling Top-Secret stuff. And who knows? Maybe by the time Im 50 Ill be giving orders instead of carrying them. Then Ill learn to read, too. Thats the right way to do it.Ronnie shifted uncomfortably on the hassock. But cant a Reader get a job thats not so important. Like a barb

26、er or a plumber orDont you understand? The barber and plumbing equipment corporations set up their stores and hire men to work for them. You think theyd hire a Reader? Peopled say you were a spy or a subversive or that youre crazy like old man Davis.Mr. Davis isnt crazy. And he isnt old. Hes young,

27、just like you, andRonnie!Dads voice was knife-sharp and December-cold. Ronnie slipped off the hassock as if struck physically by the fury of the voice. He sat sprawled on his small posterior, fresh fear etched on his thin features.Damn it, son, how could you even think of being a Reader? Youve got a

28、 life-sized, 3-D video here, and we put on the smell and touch and heat attachments just for you. You can listen to any tape in the world at school. Ronnie, dont you realize Id lose my job if people knew I had a Reader for a son?Bbut, DaddyDad jumped to his feet. I hate to say it, Edith, but weve go

29、t to put this boy in a reformatory. Maybe a good memory-wash will take some of the nonsense out of him!Ronnie suppressed a sob. No, Daddy, dont let them take away my brain. PleaseDad stood very tall and very stiff, not even looking at him. They wont take your brain, just your memory for the past two

30、 years.A corner of Moms mouth twitched. David, I didnt want anything like this. I thought maybe Ronnie could have a few private psychiatric treatments. They can do wonderful things nowpermi-hypnosis, creations of artificial psychic blocks. A memory-wash would mean that Ronnied have the mind of a six

31、-year-old child again. Hed have to start to school all over again.Dad returned to his chair. He buried his face in trembling hands, and some of his anger seemed replaced by despair. Lord, Edith, I dont know what to do.He looked up abruptly, as if struck by a chilling new thought. You cant keep a two

32、-year memory-wash a secret. I never thought of that before. Why, that alone would mean the end of my promotions.Silence settled over the room, punctuated only by the ticking of the antique clock. All movement seemed frozen, as if the room lay at the bottom of a cold, thick sea.David, Mom finally sai

33、d.Yes?Theres only one solution. We cant destroy two years of Ronnies memoryyou said that yourself. So well have to take him to a psychiatrist or maybe a psychoneurologist. A few short treatmentsDad interrupted: But hed still remember how to read, unconsciously anyway. Even permi-hypnosis would wear

34、off in time. The boy cant keep going to psychiatrists for the rest of his life.Thoughtfully he laced his fingers together. Edith, what kind of a book was he reading?A tremor passed through Moms slender body. There were three books on his bed. Im not sure which one he was actually reading.Dad groaned

35、. Three of them. Did you burn them?No, dear, not yet.Why not?I dont know. Ronnie seemed to like them so much. I thought that maybe tonight, after you d seen themGet them, damn it. Lets burn the filthy things.Mom went to a mahogany chest in the dining room, produced three faded volumes. She put them

36、on the hassock at Dads feet.Dad gingerly turned a cover. His lips curled in disgust as if he were touching a rotting corpse.Old, he mused, so very old. Ironic, isnt it? Our lives are being wrecked by things that should have been destroyed and forgotten a hundred years ago.A sudden frown contorted hi

37、s dark features.Tick-de-tock, tick-de-tock, said the antique clock.A hundred years old, he repeated. His mouth became a hard, thin line. Edith, I think I know why Ronnie wanted to read, why he fell into the trap so easily.What do you mean, David?Dad nodded at the clock, and the slow, smouldering ang

38、er returned to his face. Its your fault, Edith. Youve always liked old things. That clock of your great-great-grandmothers. Those old prints on the wall. That stamp collection you started for Ronniestamps dated way back to the 1940s.Moms face paled. I dont understand.Youve interested Ronnie in old t

39、hings. To a child in its formative years, in a pleasant house, these things symbolize peace and security. Ronnies been conditioned from the very time of his birth to like old things. It was natural for him to be attracted by books. And we were just too stupid to realize it.Mom whispered hoarsely, Im

40、 sorry, David.Hot anger flashed in Dads eyes. It isnt enough to be sorry. Dont you see what this means? Ronniell have to be memory-washed back to the time of birth. Hell have to start life all over again.No, David, no!And in my position I cant afford to have an eight-year-old son with the mind of a

41、new-born baby. Its got to be Abandonment, Edith, theres no other way. The boy can start life over in a reformatory, with a complete memory-wash. Hell never know we existed, and hell never bother us again.Mom ran up to Dad. She put her hands on his shoulders. Great sobs burst from her shaking body.Yo

42、u cant, David! I wont letHe slapped her then with the palm of his hand. The sound was like a pistol shot in the hot, tight air.Dad stood now like a colossus carved of black ice. His right hand was still upraised, ready to strike again.Then his hand fell. His mind seemed to be toying with a new thoug

43、ht, a new concept.He seized one of the books on the hassock.Edith, he said crisply, just what was Ronnie reading? Whats the name of this book?TheThe Adventures of Tom Sawyer, said Mom through her sobs.He grabbed the second book, held it before her shimmering vision.And the name of this?Tarzan of The

44、 Apes. Moms voice was a barely audible croak.Whos the author?Edgar Rice Burroughs.And this one?The Wizard of Oz.Who wrote it?L. Frank Baum.He threw the books to the floor. He stepped backward. His face was a mask of combined sorrow, disbelief, and rage.Edith. He spat the name as if it were acid on h

45、is tongue. Edith, you can read!Mom sucked in her sobs. Her chalk-white cheeks were still streaked with rivulets of tears.Im sorry, David. Ive never told anyonenot even Ronnie. I havent read a book, havent even looked at one since we were married. Ive tried to be a good wifeA good wife. Dad sneered.

46、His face was so ugly that Ronnie looked away.Mom continued, II learned when I was just a girl. I was young like Ronnie. You know how young people arereckless, eager to do forbidden things.You lied to me, Dad snapped. For ten years youve lied to me. Why did you want to read, Edith? Why?Mom was silent

47、 for a few seconds. She was breathing heavily, but no longer crying. A calmness entered her features, and for the first time tonight Ronnie saw no fear in her eyes.I wanted to read, she said, her voice firm and proud, because, as Ronnie said, its fun. The videos nice, with its dancers and lovers and Indians and spacemenbut sometimes you want more than that. Sometimes you want to know how people feel deep inside and how they think. And there are beautiful words and beautiful thoughts, just like there are beautiful paintings. It isnt enough just to hear them and then