ib.thewaspfactory-第15部分

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　　For　example；　there　has　always　been　a　part　of　me　which　has　felt　guilty　about　killing　Blyth；　Paul　and　Esmerelda。　That　same　part　feels　guilty　now　about　taking　revenge　on　innocent　rabbits　because　of　one　rogue　male。　But　I　liken　it　to　an　opposition　party　in　a　parliament；　or　a　critical　press；　acting　as　a　conscience　and　a　brake；　but　not　in　power　and　unlikely　to　assume　it。　Another　part　of　me　is　racist；　probably　because　I've　hardly　met　any　colored　people　and　all　I　know　of　them　is　what　I　read　in　papers　and　see　on　television；　where　black　people　are　usually　talked　of　in　terms　of　numbers　and　presumed　guilty　until　proved　innocent。　This　part　of　me　is　still　quite　strong；　though　of　course　I　know　there　is　no　logical　reason　for　race　hatred。　Whenever　I　see　coloured　people　in　Porteneil；　buying　souvenirs　or　stopping　off　for　a　snack；　I　hope　that　they　will　ask　me　something　so　that　I　can　show　how　polite　I　am　and　prove　that　my　reasoning　is　stronger　than　my　more　crass　instincts；　or　training。
　　
　　By　the　same　token；　though；　there　was　no　need　to　take　revenge　on　the　rabbits。　There　never　is；　even　in　the　big　world。　I　think　reprisals　against　people　only　distantly　or　circumstantially　connected　with　those　who　have　done　others　wrong　are　to　make　the　people　doing　the　avenging　feel　good。　Like　the　death　penalty；　you　want　it　because　it　makes　you　feel　better；　not　because　it's　a　deterrent　or　any　nonsense　like　that。
　　
　　At　least　the　rabbits　won't　know　that　Frank　Cauldhame　did　what　he　did　to　them；　the　way　a　munity　of　people　knows　what　the　baddies　did　to　them；　so　that　the　revenge　ends　up　having　the　opposite　effect　from　that　intended；　inciting　rather　than　squashing　resistance。　At　least　I　admit　that　it's　all　to　boost　my　ego；　restore　my　pride　and　give　me　pleasure；　not　to　save　the　country　or　uphold　justice　or　honour　the　dead。
　　
　　So　there　were　parts　of　me　that　watched　the　naming　ceremony　for　the　new　catapult　with　some　amusement；　even　contempt。　In　that　state　inside　my　head；　this　is　like　intellectuals　in　a　country　sneering　at　religion　while　not　being　able　to　deny　the　effect　it　has　on　the　mass　of　people。　In　the　ceremony　I　smeared　the　metal；　rubber　and　plastic　of　the　new　device　with　earwax；　snot；　blood；　urine；　belly…button　fluff　and　toenail　cheese；　christened　it　by　firing　the　empty　sling　at　a　wingless　wasp　crawling　on　the　face　of　the　Factory　；　and　also　fired　it　at　my　bared　foot；　raising　a　bruise。
　　
　　Parts　of　me　thought　all　this　was　nonsense；　but　they　were　in　a　tiny　minority。　The　rest　of　me　knew　this　sort　of　thing　worked。　It　gave　me　power；　it　made　me　part　of　what　I　own　and　where　I　am。　It　makes　me　feel　good。
　　
　　I　found　a　photograph　of　Paul　as　a　baby　in　one　of　the　albums　I　kept　in　the　loft；　and　after　the　ceremony　I　wrote　the　name　of　the　new　catapult　on　the　back　of　the　picture；　scrunched　it　up　around　a　steelie　and　secured　it　with　a　little　tape；　then　went　down；　out　of　the　loft　and　the　house；　into　the　chill　drizzle　of　a　new　day。
　　
　　I　went　to　the　cracked　end　of　the　old　slipway　at　the　north　end　of　the　island。　I　pulled　the　rubber　almost　to　maximum　and　sent　the　ball…bearing　and　photograph　hissing　and　spinning　way　out　to　sea。　I　didn't　see　the　splash。
　　
　　The　catapult　ought　to　be　safe　so　long　as　nobody　knew　its　name。　That　didn't　help　the　Black　Destroyer；　certainly；　but　it　died　because　I　made　a　mistake；　and　my　power　is　so　strong　that　when　it　goes　wrong；　which　is　seldom　but　not　never；　even　those　things　I　have　invested　with　great　protective　power　bee　vulnerable。　Again；　in　that　head…state；　I　could　feel　anger　that　I　could　have　made　such　a　mistake；　and　a　determination　it　wouldn't　happen　again。　This　was　like　a　general　who　had　lost　a　battle　or　some　important　territory　being　disciplined　or　shot。
　　
　　Well；　I　had　done　what　I　could　to　protect　the　new　catapult　and；　while　I　was　sorry　that　what　had　happened　at　the　Rabbit　Grounds　had　cost　me　a　trusted　weapon　with　many　battle　honours　to　its　name　（not　to　mention　a　significant　sum　out　of　the　Defence　budget）；　I　thought　that　maybe　what　had　happened　had　been　for　the　best。　The　part　of　me　which　made　the　mistake　with　the　buck；　letting　it　get　the　better　of　me　for　a　moment；　might　still　be　around　if　that　acid　test　hadn't　found　it　out。　The　inpetent　or　misguided　general　had　been　dismissed。　Eric's　return　might　call　for　all　my　reactions　and　powers　to　be　at　their　peak　of　efficiency。
　　
　　It　was　still　very　early　and；　although　the　mist　and　drizzle　should　have　had　me　feeling　a　little　mellow；　I　was　still　in　good　and　confident　spirits　from　the　naming　ceremony。
　　
　　I　felt　like　a　Run；　so　I　left　my　jacket　near　the　Pole　I'd　been　at　the　day　Diggs　had　e　with　the　news；　and　tucked　the　catapult　tightly　between　my　cords　and　my　belt。　I　tugged　my　boots　to　running　tension　after　checking　my　socks　were　straight　and　unruffled；　then　jogged　slowly　down　to　the　line　of　hard　sand　between　the　seaweed　tidelines。　The　drizzle　was　ing　and　going　and　the　sun　was　visible　occasionally　through　the　mist　and　cloud　as　a　red　and　hazy　disc。　There　was　a　slight　wind　ing　from　the　north；　and　I　turned　into　it。　I　powered　up　gradually；　settling　into　an　easy；　long…paced　stride　that　got　my　lungs　working　properly　and　readied　my　legs。　My　arms；　fists　clenched；　moved　with　a　fluid　rhythm；　sending　first　one　then　the　other　shoulder　forward。　I　breathed　deeply；　padding　over　the　sand。　I　came　to　the　braided　reaches　of　the　river　where　it　swung　out　over　the　sands；　and　adjusted　my　steps　so　that　I　cleared　all　the　channels　easily　and　cleanly；　a　leap　at　a　time。　Once　over；　I　put　my　head　down　and　increased　speed。　My　head　and　fists　rammed　the　air；　my　feet　flexed；　flung；　gripped　and　pushed。
　　
　　The　air　whipped　at　me；　little　gusts　of　drizzle　stinging　slightly　as　I　hit　them。　My　lungs　exploded；　imploded；　exploded；　imploded；　plumes　of　wet　sand　flew　from　my　soles；　rising　as　I　sped　on；　falling　in　little　curves　and　spattering　back　as　I　raced　on　into　the　distance。　I　brought　my　face　up　and　put　my　head　back；　baring　my　neck　to　the　wind　like　a　lover；　to　the　rain　like　an　offering。　My　breath　rasped　in　my　throat；　and　a　slight　light…headedness　I　had　started　to　feel　owing　to　hyperoxygenating　earlier　waned　as　my　muscles　took　up　the　slack　of　the　extra　power　in　my　blood。　I　boosted；　increasing　speed　as　the　jagged　line　of　dead　seaweed　and　old　wood　and　cans　and　bottles　skittered　by　me；　I　felt　like　a　bead　on　a　thread　being　pulled　through　the　air　on　a　line；　sucked　along　by　throat　and　lungs　and　legs；　a　continual　pounce　of　flowing　energy。　I　kept　the　boost　up　as　long　as　I　could；　then；　when　I　felt　it　start　to　go；　relaxed；　and　went　back　to　merely　running　fast　for　a　while。
　　
　　I　charged　across　the　sands；　the　dunes　to　my　left　moving　by　like　stands　on　a　racetrack。　Ahead　I　could　see　the　Bomb　Circle；　where　I　would　stop　or　turn。　I　boosted　again；　head　down　and　shouting　to　myself　inside；　screaming　mentally；　my　voice　like　a　press；　screwing　down　tighter　to　squeeze　a　final　effort　from　my　legs。　I　flew　across　the　sands；　body　tilted　crazily　forward；　lungs　bursting；　legs　pounding。
　　
　　The　moment　passed　and　I　slowed　quickly；　dropping　to　a　trot　as　I　approached　the　Bomb　Circle；　almost　staggering　into　it；　then　flinging　myself　on　to　the　sand　inside　to　lie　panting；　heaving；　gasping；　staring　at　the　grey　sky　and　invisible　drizzle；　spreadeagled　in　the　centre　of　the　rocks。　My　chest　rose　and　fell；　my　heart　pounded　inside　its　cage。　A　dull　roaring　filled　my　ears；　and　my　whole　body　tingled　and　buzzed。　My　leg　muscles　seemed　to　be　in　some　daze　of　quivering　tension。　I　let　my　head　fall　to　one　side；　my　cheek　against　the　cool　damp　sand。
　　
　　I　wondered　what　it　felt　like　to　die。
　　
　　The　Bomb　Circle；　my　dad's　leg　and　his　stick；　his　reluctance　to　get　me　a　motorbike　perhaps；　the　candles　in　the　skull；　the　legions　of　dead　mice　and　hamsters…they're　all　the　fault　of　Agnes；　my　father's　second　wife　and　my　mother。
　　
　　I　can't　remember　my　mother；　because　if　I　did　I'd　hate　her。　As　it　is；　I　hate　her　name；　the　idea　of　her。　It　was　she　who　let　the　Stoves　take　Eric　away　to　Belfast；　away　from　the　island；　away　from　what　he　knew。　They　thought　that　my　father　was　a　bad　parent　because　he　dressed　Eric　in　girl's　clothes　and　let　him　run　wild；　and　my　mother　let　them　take　him　because　she　didn't　like　children　in　general　and　E