經典科幻文學:《生命 宇宙及一切》第12章1

Chapter 12
Shhh, said Slartibartfast. Listen and watch.
Night had now fallen on ancient Krikkit. The sky was dark and empty. The only light was coming from the nearby town, from which pleasant convivial sounds were drifting quietly on the breeze. They stood beneath a tree from which heady fragrances wafted around them. Arthur squatted and felt the Informational Illusion of the soil and the grass. He ran it through his fingers. The soil seemed heavy and rich, the grass strong. It was hard to avoid the impression that this was a thoroughly delightful place in all respects.
The sky was, however, extremely blank and seemed to Arthur to cast a certain chill over the otherwise idyllic, if currently invisible, landscape. Still, he supposed, it’s a question of what you’re used to.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up. Slartibartfast was quietly directing his attention to something down the other side of the hill. He looked and could just see some faint lights dancing and waving, and moving slowly in their direction.
As they came nearer, sounds became audible too, and soon the dim lights and noises resolved themselves into a small group of people who were walking home across the hill towards the town.
They walked quite near the watchers beneath the tree, swinging lanterns which made soft and crazy lights dance among the trees and grass, chattering contentedly, and actually singing a song about how terribly nice everything was, how happy they were, how much they enjoyed working on the farm, and how pleasant it was to be going home to see their wives and children, with a lilting chorus to the effect that the flowers were smelling particularly nice at this time of year and that it was a pity the dog had died seeing as it liked them so much. Arthur could almost imagine Paul McCartney sitting with his feet up by the fire on evening, humming it to Linda and wondering what to buy with the proceeds, and thinking probably Essex.
The Masters of Krikkit, breathed Slartibartfast in sepulchral tones.
Coming, as it did, so hard upon the heels of his own thoughts about Essex this remark caused Arthur a moment’s confusion. Then the logic of the situation imposed itself on his scattered mind, and he discovered that he still didn’t understand what the old man meant.
What? he said.
The Masters of Krikkit, said Slartibartfast again, and if his breathing had been sepulchral before, this time he sounded like someone in Hades with bronchitis.
Arthur peered at the group and tried to make sense of what little information he had at his disposal at this point. The people in the group were clearly alien, if only because they seemed a little tall, thin, angular and almost as pale as to be white, but otherwise they appeared remarkably pleasant; a little whimsical perhaps, one wouldn’t necessarily want to spend a long coach journey with them, but the point was that if they deviated in any way from being good straightforward people it was in being perhaps too nice rather than not nice enough. So why all this rasping lungwork from Slartibartfast which would seem more appropriate to a radio commercial for one of those nasty films about chainsaw operators taking their work home with them?
Then, this Krikkit angle was a tough one, too. He hadn’t quite fathomed the connection between what he knew as cricket, and what…
Slartibartfast interrupted his train of thought at this point as if sensing what was going through his mind.
The game you know as cricket, he said, and his voice still seemed to be wandering lost in subterranean passages, is just one of those curious freaks of racial memory which can keep images alive in the mind aeons after their true significance has been lost in the mists of time. Of all the races on the Galaxy, only the English could possibly revive the memory of the most horrific wars ever to sunder the Universe and transform it into what I’m afraid is generally regarded as an incomprehensibly dull and pointless game.
Rather fond of it myself, he added, but in most people’s eyes you have been inadvertently guilty of the most grotesque bad taste. Particularly the bit about the little red ball hitting the wicket, that’s very nasty.
Um, said Arthur with a reflective frown to indicate that his cognitive synapses were coping with this as best as they could, um.
And these, said Slartibartfast, slipping back into crypt guttural and indicating the group of Krikkit men who had now walked past them, are the ones who started it all, and it will start tonight. Come, we will follow, and see why.
They slipped out from underneath the tree, and followed the cheery party along the dark hill path. Their natural instinct was to tread quietly and stealthily in pursuit of their quarry, though, as they were simply walking through a recorded Informational Illusion, they could as easily have been wearing euphoniums and woad for all the notice their quarry would have taken of them.
Arthur noticed that a couple of members of the party were now singing a different song. It came lilting back to them through the soft night air, and was a sweet romantic ballad which would have netted McCartney Kent and Sussex and enabled him to put in a fair offer for Hampshire.
You must surely know, said Slartibartfast to Ford, what it is that is about to happen?
Me? said Ford. No.

第十二章
“噓……” 司拉提巴特法斯說道，“注意聽，注意看。”
夜幕籠罩着古老的版求星。漆黑的天上，空無一物。唯一的光線來自附近那座小鎮。一陣陣歡聲笑語隨着微風遠遠地傳來。他們站在一棵樹下，醉人的芬芳縈繞在他們身旁。阿瑟蹲坐下來，觸摸那土壤和草地的信息幻影。他讓它們在指間滑動。土壤很肥沃，草很茂盛。不可否認，這地方從各方面來看，都是相當不錯的。
然而，天空，卻是極度的空虛。在阿瑟看來，爲這恬美之地——當然現在啥也看不見了——驟添了一分陰森。不過，他猜想這應該是習慣的問題。
他感到有人敲了敲自己的肩膀，於是擡起頭。司拉提巴特法斯只是靜靜地示意他向山丘的另一面看去。他望過去，只見些許微光閃爍，緩緩朝他們幾個移來。
那些光近了，聲音也漸漸清晰。聲與光越來越近，現在可以認出那是一撥人，正走在回小鎮的路上。
那撥人過來了，離幾位偷窺者越來越近。他們搖着燈籠，那些柔和的光點就在樹林草叢之間跳來跳去。他們談笑風生，唱着歌兒，內容是一切多麼美好，他們多麼快樂、多麼熱愛農活，回家去見老婆孩子是多麼開心；還有一段悠揚婉轉的和聲，大意是這個季節花兒多麼香，可惜他們可愛的狗已經死了，看不見這一切了。阿瑟幾乎可以想象，在夜裏，保羅·麥卡特尼①蹺着腿坐在火堆旁，對琳達②哼着這些歌兒，考慮着賺了錢要買些什麼。唱這些歌兒賺的錢，大概能把愛塞克斯③買下來呢。
“版求的主人。”司拉提巴特法斯用葬禮般陰沉的聲音低語道。
這麼一句話，在關於愛塞克斯的念頭之後突如其來，讓阿瑟一時摸不着頭腦。他逼迫自己渙散的精神恢復到邏輯狀態，可還是不明白老人此話怎講。
“什麼？”他問。
“版求的主人。”司拉提巴特法斯再次說道。如果說，剛纔他的聲音像葬禮，這次他的聲音則像患了支氣管炎的鬼一樣。
阿瑟定定地看着那撥人，想弄懂剛纔那句話是什麼意思。那撥人顯然是外星人，他們特別高，瘦骨嶙峋，白得幾乎像雪。更要緊的是，他們太快樂了。你不會很想跟他們一起長途旅行——聽上去有點怪。如果他們不算厚道的好人，原因並非他們不夠厚道不夠好，而是因爲他們實在好得過分了。可是，司拉提巴特法斯干嘛用這駭人的語調說話？這種語調，恐怕更適於恐怖電影的預告片，關於諸如電鋸殺人狂的故事什麼的。
看來，這個版求也會很恐怖羅。他不明白，自己所知的“板球”和這有什麼聯……
司拉提巴特法斯打斷他的萬千思緒，彷彿看透他的心思。
“你所知的板球運動，”他的聲音依然像在地道里遊蕩，“其實是一種民族集體記憶的特殊變異，它是爲了保留事件的真實意義，令其不至於在歷史長河中消逝。在銀河系所有種族中，只有英格蘭人將這一宇宙惡戰的記憶，轉記成……恐怕是……一種枯燥透頂不可想象的無聊遊戲。
“我個人很喜歡它。”他補充道，“但在大多數人看來，你們真的是品味怪誕，不可理喻。特別是要讓那顆小紅球打到三柱門上，這點真的很恐怖。”
“噢。”阿瑟應聲皺了皺眉，表示他的認知神經突觸已經盡力了，“噢。”
“而他們，”司拉提巴特法斯又變回他那墓穴般的喉音，朝那撥正走過的版求星人看了兩眼，“導致了一切的開始。就在今晚。來吧。我們跟上，看看怎麼回事。”
他們從樹下溜出去，跟着那羣愉快的人們走在漆黑的山間小道上。出於本能，他們極力放輕腳步，偷偷摸摸地跟着“獵物”。其實，他們不過是走在信息幻影裏而已。就算吹着次中音大號，渾身塗上藍顏色，“獵物”也看不見他們的。
阿瑟注意到，人羣中有幾個人開始唱另一支歌。歌聲隨着晚風飄到他們幾個的耳朵裏，那是一支甜美浪漫的民謠。麥卡特尼要是把這首歌出成唱片，恐怕能把肯特郡、蘇塞克斯郡和漢普郡都買下來了。
“你一定知道，”司拉提巴特法斯對福特道，“接下來是什麼吧？”
“我？”福特說，“不知道。”