熊发现了火 很好看的小说，推荐

anchinhuu_2

熊发现了火
作者：特利?比松
    1.
    我正在开车，和我的弟弟――一个传教士以及我的侄子――传教士的儿子一起，在I――65号公路上，就在“滚木草坪”的北边，突然车胎破了。这是一个星期天的晚上，我们刚刚去看了在疗养院的母亲。我正在开着我的车。漏气车胎引起了一阵你可能称之为有见识的呻吟声。因为，象我家庭中的那些旧式的人一样，我自己修理我的轮胎，而我的弟弟则一直在告诉我别再买旧轮胎了。
   
    但如果你知道怎样去修理和安装轮胎，你就可以几乎不花一分钱地捡到它们。
    漏气的是右后轮。从我的车蹒跚着停下来的样子看，我想轮胎已完全弄坏了。“我猜没有必要问在你的箱子中是否有什么修理工具了。”瓦莱斯说。
   
“这儿，孩子，把灯举起来。”我对小瓦莱斯说。他已大得足已想帮忙了，但还并不大得自认为什么都知道。如果我已结了婚并有了孩子，我想他就是我想要的那种人。
    我的老式凯迪本有一个大箱子，总是倾向于被装得满满的象一间车库。瓦莱斯穿着他干净的假日衬衣，因此他没有提出来帮忙。我把那堆杂志、钓鱼用具、一个木制工具箱、一些旧衣服、以及一个烟斗胡乱翻开，寻找我的千斤顶。备用胎看起来有点软。
    灯灭了。“摇一摇，孩子。”我说。
    灯又亮了。我以前那个千斤顶早就不见了，但现在我带着一个小的四分之一吨液压顶。我在母亲的旧《南方生活1978――1986》下面找到了他。我一直在打算将这些旧杂志扔到垃圾箱。如果瓦莱斯没在这儿的话，我本可能已叫小瓦莱斯帮我把千斤顶放在车轮下，但现在我自己跪下去做。让这个孩子学习换轮胎其实没什么不对。即使你并不打算今后一直安装和修理轮胎，在这一生中你还是不得不换一些。灯又一次熄了，就在我把车轮抬离地面之前。我很吃惊，夜已变得这么黑了。现在是十月下旬，天气正开始转凉。“再摇摇，孩子。”我说。
   
    灯又亮了，但很薄弱。
    瓦莱斯在发杂音，以那种他同时对许多人讲话时使用的语调；在目前这种情况下，就是对小瓦莱斯和我。
    “鲍比叔叔能修理一个他自己的轮胎。”小瓦莱斯说，我猜他已失去了对他父亲的忠诚。
    “再摇摇灯。”我说。它已快熄灭了。我用扳手旋掉螺帽，取下轮胎。轮胎沿着侧壁已破裂了。“不会修理这一个。”我说。并不是说我在意。我在我的仓库外面有一堆旧轮胎，有一个人那么高。
    灯又熄了，然后又亮了，比以前更亮。我正在装备用胎。“好多了。”我说。象一股朦胧的、橙色的、摇曳的光的急流。但当我转身去找螺帽时，我大吃了一惊：孩子手里拿着的电筒并没有发光，发光的则是树林边上的两头熊拿着的火炬！它们很大，三百磅重，站着大约有五英尺高。小瓦莱斯和他的父亲已看到它们，并正纹丝不动地呆着。最好别吓着一头熊。
   
    我装上螺帽。平常我总喜欢在他们上面涂点油，但这一次我没管它。我伸手取出千斤顶，看到备用胎的气仍足以继续驾驶时，我松了一口气。然后我把千斤顶和扳手和破了的轮胎放进箱中。在这个过程中，熊一点也没动一下。他们只是举着火把，是出于好奇还是出于想帮忙，没办法知道。看上去在它们后面，在树林中，还可能有更多的熊。
   
    三道车门几乎是同时被打开。然后我们跳进车中，逃之夭夭。瓦莱斯第一个开口说话。“看起来熊好象已发现了火。”他说。
    2
    四年（四十七个月）前，当我们第一次把母亲送进疗养院时，她告诉我和瓦莱斯她已准备好迎接死亡。“被为我担心，孩子们。”她轻声地说，把我们俩都拉近病床以免让护士听到，“我已开了一百万哩的车，现在我已准备好死去，到另外那道海滨去。我不会在这儿呆太久的。”她开一辆装甲校车，开了三十九年。后来，在瓦莱斯离开后，她告诉我她的梦想。一群医生在周围坐成一圈，讨论她的病情。一个医生说：“我们已为她尽了最大努力了，孩子们，现在让她去吧。”他们全都把他的收举起来，并笑了。当那个秋季他没有死时她看上去很失望，不过在春天到来时她又忘了这件事。老年人们经常会这样。
   
    除了在星期天晚上带瓦莱斯和笑瓦莱斯去看母亲外，我自己在星期二和星期四也去。一般情况下我总是看到她坐在电视机前，即使她并没有看。护士让电视一直开着。她们说老年人喜欢那种闪烁。它使他们平静。
    “我听到的这个关于熊发现了火的事是怎么回事？”她问，这天是星期二。“是真的。”我说，用瓦莱斯从佛罗里达给她带回来的那把贝壳梳子梳着她长长的白头发。星期一在《路易斯维尔信使报》上一个报道，星期二在NBC或CBS晚间新闻上又有一个报道。人们在整个州中都看到了熊，在弗吉尼亚州也看到了。它们已停止了冬眠，并明显地计划在州际交界处的中心度过这个冬季。在弗吉尼亚的山脉中一直有熊，但在肯塔基西部的这儿没有，几乎一百年了都没有过。最后一头熊在母亲还是个小女孩时就被杀死了。《信使报》认为它们是从密歇根州和加拿大的森林中沿着65号公路走过来的，但一位来自艾伦乡的老人（在全国电视对他进行采访时）说在丘陵背后一直剩有几头熊，现在它们已出来加入其它熊的队伍，既然它们已发现了火。
   
    “它们不再冬眠了，”我说，“它们生了一堆火并让它一直燃过整个冬季。”
    “我知道，”母亲说，“下一步它们想干什么！”护士走过来把她的烟斗拿走，这是该睡觉了的信号。
    3.
    每个十月小瓦莱斯都和我呆在一起，他的父母这个时候总要去野营。我知道这听起来多么落伍，但确实是这样。瓦莱斯和伊丽莎白到南加利福尼亚的一个“基督徒之成功的隐居”去，在那儿来自整个国家的人们实践互相卖东西。我知道它是怎么回事并非因为他们劳神告诉我，而是因为我在深夜已看到过“循环公平之成功的计划”的电视广告。
   
    把小瓦莱斯丢在我的房子前，在星期三，他们离开的那一天。跟我住在一起时，这个小男孩并不需要一整包的东西。他在这儿有自己的房间。象我家庭中最老式的人一样，我紧紧抓住这幢在史密斯小树林的旧房子不放。它正开始破烂，但我和小瓦莱斯并不在意。他在“滚木草坪”也有自己的房间，但由于瓦莱斯和伊利莎白每隔三个月就搬一次家（计划的一部分），他便把他的点二二枪和连环画和对他这种年龄的男孩很重要的一些东西留在他这儿的房间中。那是间我和他父亲曾一起住过的房间。
   
    小瓦莱斯十二岁。当我下班时我发现他正坐在俯瞰州际交界处的后门廊上。我卖谷物保险。
    我换好衣服，并给他示范怎样用两种方法，去拆卸一个轮胎上的螺丝。象种植高粱一样，手工装卸轮胎是一门快要绝迹的艺术。但这个孩子理解得很快。“明天我将教你怎样安装轮胎。”我说。
    “我希望的是我能看到熊。”他说。他正越过田野看向65号公路，在那儿一条通向北边的路切断了我们这片财产的一角。在晚上，有时过往的车辆听起来就象一道瀑布。
    “白天看不到它们的火，”我说，“等今晚吧。”这个晚上CBS或NBC（我不知道哪个是哪个）作了一个关于熊的特别报道，它正在成为全国人民都感兴趣的话题。在肯塔基、西弗吉尼亚、密苏里、伊利诺伊斯、以及当然，弗吉尼亚，都看到了熊，在弗吉尼亚一直都有熊。有些人甚至在讨论捕猎它们了。一个科学家说，它们正直接走向那些有一些雪但并不太多的州，以及在中心有足够多的树木可作为烧火柴的州，他切进一副电视画面，但他的图象只是一些坐在一堆火周围的模糊的影子。另一个科学家说，熊是被一种只在州际交界处中心生长的新矮树林上的浆果吸引了。他声称这种浆果在最近的历史中是第一个新品种，由沿着高速公路边上的各种种子混合生长而成。他在电视上当众吃了一颗，作了一个鬼脸，并把它称作“新浆果”。另一个气候生态学家说，温暖的冬季（上个冬季在纳什维尔已没有下雪，在路易斯维尔也只下过一场暴风雪）已改变了熊的冬眠周期，且它们现在能一年一年地回想起以前的事情。“熊可能早在几个世纪前就发现了火，”他说，“但后来忘了。”另一种理论则认为它们发现（或回忆起）火是在黄石公园发生火灾时，几年以前。
   
    电视中播放人们谈论熊的时候比播放熊的时候更多，我和小瓦莱斯都失去了兴趣。在洗完晚饭盘子后，我带着孩子从房子后面下去，走到我们的围栏处。越过州际交界处并透过树林，我们能看到熊的火光。小瓦莱斯想回屋把他的点二二拿来，射死一头熊。我向他解释了为什么这种想法是错误的。“而且，”我说，“一支点二二除了使一头熊变得更加疯狂外，不会再由什么更好的结果。”
   
    “另外，”，我又补充到，“在中心处捕获也是违法行为。”
    4.
    星期四，我让小瓦莱斯没去上学而呆在家里，教他怎样安装一个轮胎，知道他正确掌握各种技巧为止。然后我们爬过围栏，穿过田野，去看熊。
    据“美国早安”节目说，在北弗吉尼亚，熊整个白天也让它们的火燃烧着。然而在这，在西肯塔基，十月下旬仍然是比较温暖的而它们只是在晚上才坐在火堆周围。它们在白天的所到之处和所做之事，我一点也不知道。当我和小瓦莱斯爬过围栏并穿过那条向北而去的道路时，也许那些熊正从新浆果矮树林中观察我们。我带着一把斧头，小瓦莱斯带着他的点二二，倒不是他想捕杀一头熊，而是一个男孩总是喜欢带上一支枪什么的。中心处到处缠绕着灌木丛以及在枫树、枥树、悬铃树下面的藤蔓。即使这儿离我的房子只有百码远，我也从来没来过，而且我认识的其它任何人也从没来过。它象一个被封了爵号的庄园。我们在中心处找到一条小路，沿着它穿过一条从一道护栅流向下一道护栅的小溪，水流很慢。我们发现的第一个熊迹是在灰色泥土中的脚印。还有一股发霉的但并非真正让人不快的气味。火堆在一片大的林中空地上，但我们初了灰以外什么也没发现。烧火木被堆成一个粗糙的圆型，气味现在也更强了。我捅了捅那堆灰，发现还有足够多的余火可以再生一堆火。

anchinhuu_2

我砍下一快小木柴并把它堆在一边。
    也许甚至在这个时候，熊们也正从灌木丛中观察着我们。没办法知道。我尝了尝一颗新浆果并把它吐了出来。它甜得发酸，正是你认为一头熊会喜欢的那种东西。
    5.
    晚上吃过晚饭后，我问小瓦莱斯愿不愿意和我一起去看母亲。我毫不奇怪他说他愿意。孩子们比大人们对这种事有更多的体谅。我们发现母亲正坐在疗养院的前门混凝土门廊上，看着在65号公路上过往的车辆。护士说她整天都心绪不宁。对此我也毫不惊讶。每个秋天，当树叶开始变黄时，她都变得坐立不宁。我把她带到休息室，梳她长长的白头发。“电视上除了熊外什么也没有了。”护士抱怨说，啪啪地按着频道。小瓦莱斯在护士走后拿起遥控器，我们开始看一个 CBS或NBC特别报道，关于在弗吉尼亚的一些把他们的房子装上火把的猎人们。电视正在采访一个猎人和他的妻子，他们价值一百一十七万五千美圆的房子刚被烧毁了。她责备熊。他没有责备熊，但正在起诉，要求从州政府那儿获得赔偿，因为他有一个合法的打猎许可证。州政府官员声明，拥有一张打猎许可证并不禁止（命令，我想这才是他使用的词）被打猎者进行反击。我认为对一个州政府官员而言，这是一个非常公正的观点。当然，他被赋予了一个不进行赔偿的利益。我自己并不是一个猎人。
   
    “在星期天就别烦恼到这儿来了，”母亲对小瓦莱斯说，“我已开过了一百万哩的车，现在我的一只手已放在那道大门上了。”我习惯了她说这样的一些话，尤其在秋季，但我担心它会使小男孩难过。事实上，当我们离开母亲后他看起来确实很忧虑。我问他怎么了。
    “她怎么已开了一百万哩的车？”他问。母亲告诉他的是每天四十八哩，开了三十九年，而他用计算器已算出了结果：三十三万六千九百六十哩。
    “是开了那么多。”我说，“早上四十八哩，下午四十八哩，再加上一些足球比赛的旅程。再加上，老人们总是稍微夸张了一点。”母亲是这个州的第一个女校车驾驶员。她每天都要开车并抚养一个家庭。父亲只是经营农场。
    6.
    回到家，发现箱中有一封来自瓦莱斯的明信片。他和伊利莎白正进展得很不错并玩得很高兴。没有关于小瓦莱斯的一个词，但男孩看起来也并不在意。象大多数他这种年龄的孩子一样，他并不真正喜欢和父母一起外出。
    星期六下午，疗养院把电话打到了我办公室，并留下话说母亲去了。我那时正在路上奔忙。我在星期六工作，因为这是许多农场主在家的日子。当我打回电话并得到这个消息时，我的心脏确实错过了一次跳动，但只有一次。许久以来，我已作好了这个准备。“这是个赐福。”当我再给护士打电话时我说。
    “你没明白，”护士说，“不是去世，是去了，不见了。跑掉了，不见了。你母亲已逃跑了。”当没有人注意她时，母亲走过走廊，用她的梳子撬开门，并带走了一床属于疗养院的床单。她的烟呢？我问。也不见了。这是一个她不打算再回来的确定迹象。我那时在富兰克林，花了不到一个小时就赶回在65 好公路上的疗养院。护士告诉我母亲最近的行为越来越古怪。当然他们会这么说。我们在院子中到处寻找，院子有半亩大，且没有一颗树。然后他们让我给司法官办公室留了一个口信。我将不得不继续支付她的医疗费，直到她被正式登记为失踪时，也即星期一为止。
   
    当我回到家里，天已经黑了。小瓦莱斯正在摆放晚饭。这只是包括打开几个罐头这种工作，罐头已经挑好了。我告诉他他的祖母不见了。他点点头，说，“我已告诉过我们她会这么做。”我给南加利福尼亚打了个电话并留下一个口信。其它就没有什么事可做了。我坐下来，努力让自己看电视，但电视上什么也没有。然后我从后门看出去，看到透过树林，火光闪烁着，然后我认识到我正好知道到哪儿去找她。
   
    7.
    毫无疑问天气正在转凉，因此我穿上了夹克。我叫男孩等在电话边，以免司法官打电话来时家里没有人。但当我走过那片田地的一半，再回头看时，他正跟在我后面。他没穿夹克。我等他赶上来。他带着他的点二二，但我把它留下，靠在我们的围栏上。在晚上翻过围栏比在白天更艰难，尤其在我这个年龄。我六十一岁。高速公路上挤满了冲向南方的汽车和冲向北方的卡车。
   
    我的裤脚被长长的草上的露水弄湿了。那实际上是块兰色草地。
    刚进入树林几英尺时，漆黑一片，男孩紧紧地抓住我的手。然后更亮了一些。开始我以为是月光，但它只是象月光一样的光束，高高的，从树顶泻下来，正好让我和小瓦莱斯能找到穿过灌木丛的路。不久我们便找到了那条路，以及它熟悉的熊味。
    我提防在夜晚接近一头熊。如果我们继续在小路上走，我们就可能在黑暗中撞上一头，但如果我们走进灌木丛，我们又可能被看作入侵者。我怀疑我们是否真的不该带上枪。我们继续在小路上走。光线就象雨一样，从树顶上泻下来。行走并不困难，尤其是如果我们别努力去看小路，而只是让我们的脚自己找到它们自己的路时。
    然后，透过树林，我看到了它们的火。
    8.
    烧火用的树枝大多数是梧桐和山毛榉，因此火堆产生的热量少而产生的烟雾多。看来熊们还没学到树枝的诀窍。但它们火生得不错。一头面向北边的褐色大熊正在用一根棍子捅火，并不时从它身边的一堆树枝中加一根到火上。其余的熊在周围形成一个松散的圆，坐在倒下的树干上。大多数是更小的黑熊或蜜熊；有一头母熊还带着幼仔。；有些熊正吃着坚果，没有吃的就只是怔怔地看着火。我母亲坐在它们中间，那张从疗养院带来的床单裹在她的肩上。
   
    母亲拍了拍她旁边的树干，示意我坐下。一头熊走开，让小瓦莱斯在母亲的另一边坐下。
    熊的气味有些腥臭但并非真正令人不快，一旦你习惯了它的话。我靠过去，对母亲轻轻地说了些什么而她摇摇头。在那些没有语言能力的生物面前轻言细语是不礼貌的，她不用说话就让我知道了这点。小瓦莱斯也很安静。母亲把床单也裹住我们两个。看上去我们在那里坐了有几个小时，一直看进火光中。
    那头大褐熊护理火堆，它折断干树枝的方法就是抓住一头，另一头搁在地上，再用脚在树枝中间踩，就象人类做的一样。它也在同样的水平上擅长于使火保持很旺。另一头熊也偶尔捅捅火堆，其它的根本就不管。看起来只有几头熊知道怎样使用火，并正带着其它熊前进。但每件事不都是这样开始的吗？间或有一头更小的熊，抱着满臂的树枝走进来，并把它们仍到大褐熊旁边的树枝堆上。中心处的树枝有一个银色的特点，象浮木一样。
   
    小瓦莱斯并不象大多数小孩那样坐不住。我发现坐着并看进火光中是件令人愉快的事。我带了一小包母亲的烟，尽管一般我并不怎么抽。这和在疗养院看望她没什么不同，只是更有趣，因为有了熊。它们大约有八头或十头。在火焰之中，事情也不那么阴暗沉闷了：一出出小戏剧正不断被上演，当火焰的空间被创造出来然后又在一阵火花的爆裂声中被毁灭时。我的想象疯狂地奔跑着。我看了看周围的熊，不知道它们看到了什么。有一些正闭着眼睛。尽管它们聚焦在一起，它们的精神看上去仍然是分离的，好象每一头熊都只是孤独地坐在它自己的火堆前一样。
   
    拿着浆果的那头熊走过来，我们全都抓了些浆果。我不知道母亲吃没吃，我只是假装吃我自己的。小瓦莱斯做了个鬼脸，把他吃的浆果吐了出来。当他睡着后，我把床单在我们三个人身上裹紧了些。夜晚正变得更冷而我们并没有装备着象熊一样的皮毛。我准备回家了。但母亲不。她指向树顶，在那儿，一道光束正在铺开，然后又指向她自己。她认为天使正从高高的天空中走来吗？那只是一些开向南方去的卡车灯光，但她看上去非常满足。我握着她的手，感觉它在我的手中变得越来越冷。
   
    9.
    小瓦莱斯轻轻拍着我的膝盖，把我弄醒。天已经破晓了，而他的祖母，坐在我们俩中间，已经死了。熊也不见了。有个人正横冲直撞地穿过树林，向我们走来，根本没管那条小路。是瓦莱斯。在他后面是州警。他正穿着他的白衬衣。我认识到现在是星期天的早晨。在他听到母亲死讯的悲哀之下，瓦莱斯看上去很气恼。
    州警们正使劲嗅空气并点点头。熊的气味仍然很浓。我和瓦莱斯用床单把母亲包好，并把她的尸体抬到高速公路上。州警们留在后面，把熊的火灰踢散并把它们的树枝扔进灌木丛中。真是件好事。他们自己就象熊一样，每一个都孤独地笼在他自己的制服中。
    瓦莱斯的车停在中心处，它的辐射状的轮胎在草地上看起来就象压扁了一样。它前面是一辆警车，旁边站着一个州警，它后面是一辆疗养院的柩车，跟瓦莱斯的车一个型号。
    “我们得到的第一个报告是它们打扰老人们。”州警对瓦莱斯说。“那根本不是事实。”我说，但没有人听我解释。他们有他们自己的程序。两个穿着白衣服的人走下柩车并打开后门。对我而言这就是母亲离开这个生命的那一刻了。在我们把她放进车里后，我用手搂住孩子。他正在发抖，即使并没有那么冷。有时死亡就能做到这一点，尤其是在拂晓，四处布满警察而草地上湿漉漉地不满露水，即使当它做为一个朋友来到时。
   
    我们站着，看着来来往往的卡车和汽车，看了一分钟。“这是一个赐福。”瓦莱斯说。在清晨六点二十二分时，有如此多的过往车辆真令人惊讶。
    10.
    那个下午，我又回到中心处，砍了一些小树枝，以代替被州警们扔掉的那些。那个晚上，透过树林，我又看到了火光。
    两个晚上后，在葬礼后，它们又回来了。火燃烧着。它们就是那同一群熊。我和它们坐在一起，坐了一会，但看上去这使它们紧张，于是我回了家。我从它们那儿带了一把新浆果回来，并在星期天和孩子一起去把它们放在母亲的墓上。我又试了一次，但没有用，你还是不能吃它。
    除非你是一头熊。
   
    摘自《1996年美国最佳科幻小说集》远方出版社1997年第1版《熊发现了火》获得了星云奖、雨果奖、西奥多鲟鱼纪念奖、阿西莫夫的读者投票奖、金色宝塔奖，以及几个为了给这个作品增光而快速建立起来的奖。
    ――
    失落的星辰http://www.loststars.net独家推出||OSCAR.WANG提供

anchinhuu_2

好看啊，别的没啥好说的了。

可惜有点翻译味，有没有牛人能找到原版小说啊，我谢死你了。原题是bears discover fire，google不到原版，别试了。

再说一次：强烈推荐！

黄金骑射手

Bears Discover Fire

Terry Bisson
1990.8

I was driving with my brother, the preacher, and my nephew,
the preacher s son, on I-65 just north of Bowling Green when
we got a flat. It was Sunday night and we had been to visit
Mother at the Home. We were in my car. The flat caused
what you might call knowing groans since, as the old-
fashioned one in my family (so they tell me), I fix my own
tires, and my brother is always telling me to get radials and
quit buying old tires.
But if you know how to mount and fix tires yourself, you
can pick them up for almost nothing.
Since it was a left rear tire, I pulled over to the left, onto
the median grass. The way my Caddy stumbled to a stop, I
figured the tire was ruined. "I guess there s no need asking if
you have any of that FlatFix in the trunk," said Wallace.
"Here, son, hold the light," I said to Wallace Jr. He s old
enough to want to help and not old enough (yet) to think he
knows it all. If I d married and had kids, he s the kind I d
have wanted.
An old Caddy has a big trunk that tends to fill up like a
shed. Mine s a 56. Wallace was wearing his Sunday shirt, so
he didn t offer to help while I pulled magazines, fishing
tackle, a wooden tool box, some old clothes, a comealong
wrapped in a grass sack, and a tobacco sprayer out of the way
looking for myjack. The spare looked a little soft.
The light went out. "Shake it, son," I said.
It went back on. The bumper jack was long gone, but I
carry a little quarter-ton hydraulic. I found it under Mother s
old Southern Livings, 1978-1986. I had been meaning to drop
them at the dump. If Wallace hadn t been along, I d have let
Wallace Jr. position the jack under the axle, but I got on my
knees and did it myself. There s nothing wrong with a boy
learning to change a tire. Even if you re not going to fix and
mount them, you re still going to have to change a few in this
life. The light went off again before I had the wheel off the
ground. I was surprised at how dark the night was already. It
was late October and beginning to get cool. "Shake it again,
son," I said.
It went back on but it was weak. Flickery.
"With radials you just don t have flats," Wallace ex-
plained in that voice he uses when he s talking to a number
of people at once; in this case, Wallace Jr. and myself,"And
even when you do, you just squirt them with this stuff called
FlatFix and you just drive on. Three ninety-five the can."
"Uncle Bobby can fix a tire hisself," said Wallace Jr.out
of loyalty, I presume
"Himself," I said from halfway under the car. If it was up
to Wallace, the boy would talk like what Mother used to call
"a helot from the gorges of the mountains." But drive on
radials.
"Shake that light again," I said. It was about gone. I spun
the lugs off into the hubcap and pulled the wheel. The tire
had blown out along the sidewall. "Won t be fixing this
one," I said. Not that I cared. I have a pile as tall as a man out
by the barn.

黄金骑射手

The light went out again, then came back better than ever
as I was fitting the spare over the lugs. "Much better," I said
There was a flood of dim orange flickery light. But when I
turned to find the lug nuts, I was surprised to see that the
flashlight the boy was holding was dead. The light was com-
ing from two bears at the edge of the trees, holding torches.
They were big, three-hundred-pounders, standing about five
feet tall. Wallace Jr. and his father had seen them and were
standing peffectly still. It s best not to alarm bears.
I fished the lug nuts out of the hubcap and spun them on.
I usually like to put a ii tde oil on them, but this time I let it go.
I reached under the car and let the jack down and pulled it
out. I was relieved to see that the spare was high enough to
drive on. I put the jack and the lug wrench and the flat into
the trunk. Instead of replacing the hubcap, I put it in there
too. All this time, the bears never made a move. They just
held the torches, whether out of curiosity or helpfulness,
there was no way of knowing. It looked like there may have
been more bears behind them, in the trees.
Opening three doors at once, we got into the car and
drive off. Wallace was the first to speak. "Looks like bears
have discovered fire," he said.

When we first took Mother to the Home almost four years
(forty-seven months) ago, she told Wallace and me she was
ready to die. "Don t worry about me, boys," she whispered,
pulling us both down so the nurse wouldn t hear. "I ve drove
a million miles and I m ready to pass over to the other shore.
I won t have long to linger here." She drove a consolidated
school bus for thirty-nine years. Later, after Wallace left, she
told me about her dream. A bunch of doctors were sitting
around in a circle discussing her case. One said, "We ve
done all we can for her, boys, let s let her go." They all
turned their hands up and smiled. When she didn t die that
fall she seemed disappointed, though as spring came she for-
got about it, as old people will.
In addition to taking Wallace and Wallace Jr. to see
Mother on Sunday nights, I go myself on Tuesdays and
Thursdays. I usually find her sitting in front of the TV, even
though she doesn t watch it. The nurses keep it on all the
time. They say the old folks like the flickering. It soothes
them down.
"What s this I hear about bears discovering fire?" she said
on Tuesday. "It s true," I told her as I combed her long white
hair with the shell comb Wallace had brought her from
Florida. Monday there had been a story in the Louisville Cou-
rier-Journal, and Tuesday one on NBC or CBS Nightly News.
People were seeing bears all over the state, and in Virginia as
well. They had quit hibernating, and were apparently plan-
ning to spend the winter in the medians of the interstates.
There have always been bears in the mountains of Virginia,
but not here in western Kentucky, not for almost a hundred
years. The last one was killed when Mother was a girl. The
theory in the Courier-Journal was that they were following I-65
down from the forests of Michigan and Canada, but one old
man from Allen County (interviewed on nationwide TV) said
that there had always been a few bears left back in the hills,
and they had come out to join the others now that they had
discovered fire.
"They don t hibernate anymore," I said. "They make a
fire and keep it going all winter."
"I declare," Mother said. "What ll they think of next!"
The nurse came to take her tobacco away, which is the signal
for bedtime.

Every October, Wallace Jr. stays with me while his parents go
to camp. I realize how backward that sounds, but there it is.
My brother is a Minister (House of the Righteous Way, Re-
formed) but he makes two thirds of his living in real estate.
He and Elizabeth go to a Christian Success Retreat in South
Carolina, where people from all over the country practice
selling things to one another. I know what it s like not be-
cause they ve ever bothered to tell me, but because I ve Seen
the Revolving Equity Success Plan ads late at night on TV.
The school bus let Wallace Jr. off at my house on Wednes-
day, the day they left. The boy doesn t have to pack much of a
bag when he stays with me. He has his own room here. As the
eldest of our family, I hung on to the old home place near
Smiths Grove. It s getting run-down, but Wallace Jr. and I
don t mind. He has his own room in Bowling Green, too, but
since Wallace and Elizabeth move to a different house every
three months (part of the Plan), he keeps his .22 and his
comics, the stuff that s important to a boy his age, in his room
here at the home place. It s the room his dad and I used to
share.
Wallace Jr. is twelve. I found him sitting on the back
porch that overlooks the interstate when I got home from
work. I sell crop insurance.
After I changed clothes I showed him how to break the
bead on a tire two ways, with a hammer, and by backing a car
over it. I like making sorghum, fixing tires by hand is a dying
art. The boy caught on fast, though. "Tomorrow I ll show
you how to mount your tire with the hammer and a tire
iron," I said.
"What I wish is I could see the bears," he said. He was
looking across the field to 1-65, where the northbound lanes
cut off the corner of our field. From the house at night,
sometimes the traffic sounds like a waterfall.
"Can t see their fire in the daytime," I said. "But wait till
tonight." That night CBS or NBC (I forget which is which )
did a special on the bears, which were becoming a story of
nationwide interest. They were seen in Kentucky, West Vir-
ginia, Missouri, Illinois (southern), and, of course, Virginia.
There have always been hears in Virginia. Some characters
there were even talking about hunting them. A scientist said
they were heading into the states where there is some snow
but not too much, and where there is enough timber in the
medians for firewood. He had gone in with a video camera,
but his shots were just blurry figures sitting around a fire. An-
other scientist said the bears were attracted by the berries on
a new bush that grew only in the medians of the interstates.
He claimed this berry was the first new species in recent his-
tory, brought about by the mixing of seeds along the high-
way. He ate one on TV, making a face, and called it a
"newberry." A climauc ecologist said that the warm winter
(there was no snow last winter in Nashville, and only one
flurry in Louisville) had changed the bears hibernation
cycle, and now they were able to remember things from year
to year. "Bears may have discovered fire centuries ago," he
said, "but forgot it." Another theory was that they had dis-
covered (or remembered) fire when Yellowstone burned,
several years ago.
The TV showed more guys talking about bears than it
showed bears, and Wallace Jr. and I lost interest. After the
supper dishes were done I took the boy out behind the house
and down to our fence. Across the interstate and through the
trees, we could see the light of the bears fire. Wallace Jr.
wanted to go back to the house and get his .22 and go shoot
one, and I explained why that would be wrong. "Besides," I
said, "a twenty-two wouldn t do much more to a bear than
make it mad.
"Besides," I added, "it s illegal to hunt in the medians."

黄金骑射手

The only trick to mounting a tire by hand, once you have
beaten or pried it onto the rim, is setting the bead. You do
this by setting the tire upright, sitting on it, and bouncing it
up and down between your legs while the air goes in. When
the bead sets on the rim, it makes a satisfying "pop." On
Thursday, I kept Wallace Jr. home from school and showed
bim how to do this until he got it right. Then we climbed our
fence and crossed the field to get a look at the bears.
In northern Virginia, according to Good Morning Amer-
ica, the bears were keeping their fires going all day long.
Here in western Kentucky, though, it was still warm for late
October and they only stayed around the fires at night.
Where they went and what they did in the daytime, I don t
know. Maybe they were watching from the newberry bushes
as Wallace Jr. and I climbed the government fence and
crossed the northbound lanes. I carried an axe and Wallace
Jr. brought his .22, not because he wanted to kill a bear but
because a boy likes to carry some kind of a gun. The me-
dian was all tangled with brush and vines under the maples,
oaks, and sycamores. Even though we were only a hundred
yards from the house, I had never been there, and neither
had anyone else that I knew of. It was like a created coun-
try. We found a path in the center and followed it down
across a slow, short stream that flowed out of one grate and
into another. The tracks in the gray mud were the first bear
signs we saw. There was a musty, but not really unpleasant
smell. In a clearing under a big hollow beech, where the
Fire had been, we found nothing but ashes. Logs were
drawn up in a rough circle and the smell was stronger. I
stirred the ashes and found enough coals to start a new
flame, so I banked them back the way they had been left.
I cut a little firewood and stacked it to one side,just to be
neighborly.
Maybe the bears were watching us from the bushes even
then. There s no way to know. I tasted one of the newberries
and spit it out. It was so sweet it was sour, just the sort of thing
you would imagine a bear would like.

That evening after supper I asked Wallace Jr. if he might
want to go with me to visit Mother. I wasn t surprised when
he said yes. Kids have more consideration than folks give
them credit for. We found her sitting on the concrete front
porch of the Home, watching the cars go by on 1-65. The
nurse said she had been agitated all day. I wasn t surprised by
that, either. Every fall as the leaves change, she gets restless,
maybe the word is "hopeful," again. I brought her into the
dayroom and combed her long white hair. "Nothing but
bears on TV anymore," the nurse complained, flipping the
channels. Wallace Jr. picked up the remote after the nurse
left, and we watched a CBS or NBC Special Report about
some hunters in Virginia who had gotten their houses
torched. The TV interviewed a hunter and his wife whose
$117,500 Shenandoah Valley home had burned. She blamed
the bears. He didn t blame the bears, but he was suing for
compensation from the state since he had a valid hunting
license. The state hunting commissioner came on and said
that possession of a hunting license didn t prohibit ("en-
join," I think, was the word he used) the hunted from striking
back. I thought that was a pretty liberal view for a state com-
missioner. Of course, he had a vested interest in not paying
off. I m not a hunter myself.
"Don t bother coming on Sunday," Mother told Wallace
Jr. with a wink. "I ve drove a million miles and I ve got one
hand on the gate." I m used to her saying stuff like that, espe-
cially in the fall, but I was afraid it would upset the boy. In
fact, he looked worried after we left and I asked him what was
wrong.
"How could she have drove a million miles?" he asked.
She had told him forty-eight miles a day for thirty-nine years,
and he had worked it out on his calculator to be 336,960
miles.
"Have driven, "I said. "And it s forty-eight in the morning
and forty-eight in the aftenioon. Plus there were the football
trips. Plus, old folks exaggerate a little." Mother was the first
woman school-bus driver in the state. She did it every day and
raised a family, too. Dad just farmed.

I usually get off the interstate at Smiths Grove, but that night
I drove north all the way to Horse Cave and doubled back so
Wallace Jr. and I could see the bears fires. There were not as
many as you would think from the TV-one every six or seven
miles, hidden back in a clump of trees or under a rocky
ledge. Probably they look for water as well as wood. Wallace
Jr. wanted to stop, but it s against the law to stop on the inter-
state and I was afraid the state police would run us off.
There was a card from Wallace in the mailbox. He and
Elizabeth were doing fine and having a wonderful time. Not a
word about Wallace Jr., but the boy didn t seem to mind.
Like most kids his age, he doesn t really enjoy going places
with his parents.

On Saturday afternoon the Rome called my office (Burley
Belt Drought & Hail) and left word that Mother was gone. I
was on the road. I work Saturdays. It s the only day a lot of
part-time farmers are home. My heart literally missed a beat
when I called in and got the message, but only a beat. I had
long been prepared. "It s a blessing," I said when I got the
nurse on the phone.

黄金骑射手

"You don t understand," the nurse said. "Not passed
away, gone. Ran away, gone. Your mother has escaped."
Mother had gone through the door at the end of the corri-
dor when no one was looking, wedging the door with her
comb and taking a bedspread which belonged to the Home.
What about her tobacco? I asked. It was gone. That was a sure
sign she was planning to stay away. I was in Franklin, and it
took me less than an hour to get to the Home on I-65. The
nurse told me that Mother had been acting more and more
confused lately. Of course they are going to say that. We
looked around the grounds, which is only a half acre with no
trees between the interstate and a soybean field. Then they
had me leave a message at the sheriff s office. I would have to
keep paying for her care until she was officially listed as Miss-
ing, which would be Monday.
It was dark by the time I got back to the house, and Wal-
lace Jr. was fixing supper. This just involves opening a few
cans, already selected and grouped together with a rubber
band. I told him his grandmother had gone, and he nodded,
saying, "She told us she would be." I called Florida and left a
message. There was nothing more to be done. I sat down and
tried to watch TV, but there was nothing on. Then, I looked
out the back door, and saw the firelight twinkling through
the trees across the northbound lane of I-65, and realized I
just might know where to find her.

It was definitely getting colder, so I got my jacket. I told the
boy to wait by the phone in case the sheriff called, but when I
looked back, halfway across the field, there he was behind me.
He didn t have a jacket. I let him catch up. He was carrying his
.22 and I made him leave it leaning against our fence. It was
harder climbing the government fence in the dark, at my age,
than it had been in the daylight. I am sixty-one. The highway
was busy with cars heading south and trucks heading north.
Crossing the shoulder, I got my pants cuffs wet on the
long grass, already wet with dew. It is actually bluegrass.
The first few feet into the trees it was pitch-black and the
boy grabbed my hand. Then it got lighter. At first I thought it
was the moon, but it was the high beams shining like moon-
light into the treetops, allowing Wallace-Jr. and me to pick
our way through the brush. We soon found the path and its
familiar bear smell.
I was wary of approaching the bears at night. If we stayed
on the path we might run into one in the dark, but if we went
through the bushes we might be seen as intruders. I won-
dered if maybe we shouldn t have brought the gun.
We stayed on the path. The light seemed to drip down
from the canopy of the woods like rain. The going was easy,
especially if we didn t try to look at the path but let our feet
find their own way.
Then through the trees I saw their fire.

* * *
The fire was mostly of sycamore and beech branches, the
kind that puts out very little heat or light and lots of smoke.
The bears hadn t learned the ins and outs of wood yet. They
did okay at tending it, though. A large cinnamon-brown
northern-looking bear was poking the fire with a stick, add-
ing a branch now and then from a pile at his side. The others
sat around in a loose circle on the logs. Most were smaller
black or honey bears, one was a mother with cubs. Some were
eating berries from a hubcap. Not eating, but just watching
the fire, my mother sat among them with the bedspread from
the Home around her shoulders.
If the bears noticed us, they didn t let on. Mother patted a
spot right next to her on the iog and I sat down. A bear
moved over to let Wallace Jr. sit on her other side.
The bear smell is rank but not unpleasant, once you get
used to it. It s not like a barn smell, but wilder. I leaned over
to whisper something to Mother and she shook her head.
would be rude to whisper around these creatures that don t possess the
power of speech, she let me know without speaking. Wallace Jr.
was silent too. Mother shared the bedspread with us and we
sat for what seemed hours, looking into the fire.
The big bear tended the fire, breaking up the dry
branches by holding one end and stepping on them, like
people do. He was good at keeping it going at the same level.
Another bear poked the fire from time to time but the others
left it alone. It looked like only a few of the bears knew how to
use fire, and were carrying the others along. But isn t that
how it is with everything? Every once in a while, a smaller
bear walked into the circle of firelight with an armload of
wood and dropped it onto the pile. Median wood has a silvery
cast, like driftwood.
Wallace Jr. isn t fidgety like a lot of kids. I found it pleas-
ant to sit and stare into the fire. I took a little piece of
Mother s Red Man, though I don t generally chew. It was
no different from visiting her at the Home, only more in-
teresting, because of the bears. There were about eight or
ten of them. Inside the fire itself, things weren t so dull, ei-
ther: little dramas were being played out as fiery chambers
were created and then destroyed in a crashing of sparks. My
imagination ran wild. I looked around the circle at the
bears and wondered what they saw. Some had their eyes
closed. Though they were gathered together, their spirits
still seemed solitary, as if each bear was sitting alone in
front of its own fire.
The hubcap came around and we all took some newber-
ries I don t know about Mother, but Ijust pretended to eat
mine. Wallace Jr. made a face and spit his out. When he went
to sleep, I wrapped the bedspread around all three of us. It
was getting colder and we were not provided, like the bears,
with fur. I was ready to go home, but not Mother. She
pointed up toward the canopy of trees, where a light was
spreading, and then pointed to herself. Did she think it was
angels approaching from on high? It was only the high beams
of some southbound truck, but she seemed mighty pleased.
Holding her hand, I felt it grow colder and colder in mine.

Wallace Jr. woke me up by tapping on my knee. It was past
dawn, and his grandmother had died sitting on the log be-
tween us. The fire was banked up and the bears were gone
and someone was crashing straight through the woods, ig-
noring the path. It was Wallace. Two state troopers were right
behind him. He was wearing a white shirt, and I realized it
was Sunday morning. Underneath his sadness on learning of
Mother s death, he looked peeved.
The troopers were sniffing the air and nodding. The bear
smell was still strong. Wallace and I wrapped Mother in the
bedspread and started with her body back out to the high-
way. The troopers stayed behind and scattered the bears fire
ashes and flung their firewood away into the bushes. It
seemed a petty thing to do. They were like bears themselves,
each one solitary in his own uniform.
There was Wallace s Olds 98 on the median, with its ra-
dial tires looking squashed on the grass. In front of it there
was a police car with a trooper standing beside it, and behind
it a funeral home hearse, also an Olds 98.
"First report we ve had of them bothering old folks," the
trooper said to Wallace. "That s not hardly what happened at
all," I said, but nobody asked me to explain. They have their
own procedures. Two men in suits got out of the hearse and
opened the rear door. That to me was the point at which
Mother departed this life. After we put her in, I put my arms
around the boy. He was shivering even though it wasn t that
cold. Sometimes death will do that, especially at dawn, with
the police around and the grass wet, even when it comes as a
friend.
We stood for a minute watching the cars and trucks pass.
"It s a blessing," Wallace said. It s surprising how much traf-
fic there is at 6:22 A.M.

That afternoon, I went back to the median and cut a little
firewood to replace what the troopers had flung away. I could
see the fire through the trees that night.
I went back two nights later, after the funeral. The fire was
going and it was the same bunch of bears, as far as I could
tell. I sat around with them a while but it seemed to make
them nervous, so I went home. I had taken a handful of
newberries from the hubcap, and on Sunday I went with the
boy and arranged them on Mother s grave. I tried again, but
it s no use, you can t eat them.
Unless you re a bear.

anchinhuu_2

: O

你太强了，无比崇拜啊，谢谢谢谢谢谢！

怎么找的，难道百度比古狗好用？！

anchinhuu_2

没人看？不管，再发一个。这个好像没有翻译，好在又短又简单，没准我哪天翻出来也不一定。


Terry Bisson

They're Made out of Meat

"They're made out of meat."
     
"Meat?"
     
"Meat. They're made out of meat."
     
"Meat?"
     
"There's no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."
     
"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars?"
     
"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines."
     
"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."
     
"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines."
     
"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient meat."
     
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in that sector and they're made out of meat."
     
"Maybe they're like the orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage."
     
"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn't take long. Do you have any idea what's the life span of meat?"
     
"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."
     
"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads, like the weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way through."
     
"No brain?"
     
"Oh, there's a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of meat! That's what I've been trying to tell you."
     
"So ... what does the thinking?"
     
"You're not understanding, are you? You're refusing to deal with what I'm telling you. The brain does the thinking. The meat."
     
"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"
     
"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you beginning to get the picture or do I have to start all over?"
     
"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."
     
"Thank you. Finally. Yes. They are indeed made out of meat. And they've been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."
     
"Omigod. So what does this meat have in mind?"
     
"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the Universe, contact other sentiences, swap ideas and information. The usual."

< 2 >

     
"We're supposed to talk to meat."
     
"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio. 'Hello. Anyone out there. Anybody home.' That sort of thing."
     
"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"
     
"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."
     
"I thought you just told me they used radio."
     
"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat, it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat."
     
"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?"
     
"Officially or unofficially?"
     
"Both."
     
"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in this quadrant of the Universe, without prejudice, fear or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing."
     
"I was hoping you would say that."
     
"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?"
     
"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say? 'Hello, meat. How's it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?"
     
"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can't live on them. And being meat, they can only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."
     
"So we just pretend there's no one home in the Universe."
     
"That's it."
     
"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you probed? You're sure they won't remember?"
     
"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them."
     
"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat's dream."
     
"And we marked the entire sector unoccupied."
     
"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"
     
"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again."
     
"They always come around."
     
"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the Universe would be if one were all alone ..."
     

the end

忠诚

以前在牧区野营（有时候没有办法到不了目的地）的时候常听老人嘱咐把升起的篝火熄灭，不然晚上狗熊会 跑到篝火旁。
没有想到原来是真的，

忠诚

还听老人说狗熊害怕马，
其实不是害怕马，而是害怕马的耳朵
有一次在山里看到一头狗熊，当时把我们吓傻了，那头熊足有马那么高，很大，
当时我们骑着马正准备下山，那头熊从我们面前横穿而过，距离大概有150米左右，回来后说给老人们听，可是他们听完就说："你们为什么不追？熊害怕马耳朵，要是你们轰赶他肯定能抓到“
还有说要是没有骑马的时候与到熊就得往下坡跑，因为熊的 前肢短下坡时会滚下山还有熊额头上的毛长所以一走下坡就会挡住它的视线，所以熊最怕下坡。
不知道这些是不是真的，都是听老人讲的

Tooliv_2

我在根河的林场见过熊,不过是黑熊.个子跟大狗差不多,可小哩

小傲

原帖由 Tooliv 于 2006-11-11 16:35 发表
我在根河的林场见过熊,不过是黑熊.个子跟大狗差不多,可小哩

熊末见过，大的有多大 ？  跟一头牛一样吗？:Q