ib.thewaspfactory-第27部分

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　enough。
　　
　　This　burning　dogs　stuff　is　just　nonsense。
　　
　　
　　　7：　Space　Invaders
　　
　　
　　BEFORE　I　realised　the　birds　were　my　occasional　allies；　I　used　to　do　unkind　things　to　them：　fish　for　them；　shoot　them；　tie　them　to　stakes　at　low　tide；　put　electrically　detonated　bombs　under　their　nests；　and　so　on。
　　
　　My　favourite　game　was　capturing　two　using　bait　and　a　net；　then　tying　them　together。　Usually　they　were　gulls　and　I　tied　thick　orange　nylon　fishing…line　to　a　leg　each；　then　sat　on　a　dune　and　watched。　Sometimes　I　would　have　a　gull　and　a　crow　but；　whether　they　were　the　same　species　or　not；　they　quickly　found　out　they　couldn't　fly　properly…though　the　twine　was　long　enough　in　theory…and　ended　up　（after　a　few　hilariously　clumsy　aerobatics）　fighting。
　　
　　With　one　dead；　though；　the　survivor…usually　injured　wasn't　really　any　better　off；　attached　to　a　heavy　corpse　instead　of　a　live　opponent。　I　have　seen　a　couple　of　determined　ones　peck　the　leg　off　their　defeated　adversary；　but　most　were　unable；　or　didn't　think　of　it；　and　got　caught　by　the　rats　during　the　night。
　　
　　I　had　other　games；　but　that　one　always　struck　me　as　one　of　my　more　mature　inventions；　symbolic　somehow；　and　with　a　nice　blend　of　callousness　and　irony。
　　
　　One　of　the　birds　shat　on　Gravel　as　I　pedalled　up　the　path　to　town　on　the　Tuesday　morning。　I　stopped；　glared　up　at　the　wheeling　gulls　and　a　couple　of　thrushes；　then　got　some　grass　and　wiped　the　yellow…white　mess　off　the　front　guard。　It　was　a　bright；　sunny　day　and　a　light　breeze　blew。　The　forecast　for　the　next　few　days　was　good；　and　I　hoped　the　fine　weather　held　for　Eric's　arrival。
　　
　　I　met　Jamie　in　the　lounge　bar　of　the　Cauldhame　Arms　for　lunch　and　we　sat　playing　an　electronic　game　over　a　TV　table。
　　
　　'If　he's　that　crazy；　I　don't　know　why　they　haven't　caught　him　yet；'　Jamie　said。
　　
　　'I've　told　you；　he's　crazy　but　he's　very　cunning。　He's　not　stupid。　He　was　always　very　bright；　right　from　the　start。　He　was　reading　early　and　getting　all　his　relations　and　uncles　and　aunts　to　say　〃Och；　they're　old　so　young　these　days〃　and　things　like　that　before　I　was　even　born。'
　　
　　'But　he　is　insane；　all　the　same。'
　　
　　'That's　what　they　say；　but　I　don't　know。'
　　
　　'What　about　the　dogs？　And　the　maggots？'
　　
　　'OK；　that　looks　pretty　crazy；　I'll　admit；　but　sometimes　I　think　maybe　he's　up　to　something；　maybe　he's　not　really　crazy　after　all。　Perhaps　he　just　got　fed　up　acting　normal　and　decided　to　act　crazy　instead；　and　they　locked　him　up　because　he　went　too　far。'
　　
　　'And　he's　mad　at　them；'　Jamie　grinned；　drinking　his　pint　as　I　annihilated　various　dodging；　multi…coloured　spacecraft　on　the　screen。　I　laughed。　'Yeah；　if　you　like。　Oh；　I　don't　know。　Maybe　he　really　is　crazy。　Maybe　I　am。　Maybe　everybody　is。　Or　at　least　all　of　my　family。'
　　
　　'Now　you're　talking。'
　　
　　I　looked　up　at　him　for　a　second；　then　smiled。　'It　does　occur　to　me　sometimes。　My　dad's　an　eccentric。。。　I　suppose　I　am；　too。'　I　shrugged；　concentrated　on　the　space　battle　again。　'But　it　doesn't　bother　me。　There　are　a　lot　madder　people　about　the　place。'
　　
　　Jamie　sat　in　silence　for　a　while　as　I　went　from　screenful　to　screenful　of　wheeling；　whining　craft。　Finally　my　luck　ran　out　and　they　caught　me。　I　took　up　my　pint　as　Jamie　settled　in　to　blast　a　few　of　the　gaudy　formations。　I　looked　at　the　top　of　his　head　as　he　bent　to　the　task。　He　was　starting　to　go　bald；　though　I　knew　he　was　only　twenty…three。　He　reminded　me　again　of　a　puppet；　with　his　out…of…proportion　head　and　stubby　little　arms　and　legs　waggling　with　the　exertion　of　punching　the　'fire'　button　and　jiggling　the　positioning　joystick。
　　
　　'Yeah；'　he　said　after　a　while；　still　attacking　the　oning　craft；　'and　a　lot　of　them　seem　to　be　politicians　and　presidents　and　things。'
　　
　　'What？'　I　said；　wondering　what　he　was　talking　about。
　　
　　'The　madder　people。　A　lot　of　them　seem　to　be　leaders　of　countries　or　religions　or　armies。　The　real　loonies。'
　　
　　'Aye；　I　suppose。'　I　said　thoughtfully；　watching　the　battle　on　the　screen　upside　down。　'Or　maybe　they're　the　only　sane　ones。　After　all；　they're　the　ones　with　all　the　power　and　riches。　They're　the　ones　who　get　everybody　else　to　do　what　they　want　them　to　do；　like　die　for　them　and　work　for　them　and　get　them　into　power　and　protect　them　and　pay　taxes　and　buy　them　toys；　and　they're　the　ones　who'll　survive　another　big　war；　in　their　bunkers　and　tunnels。　So；　given　things　being　the　way　they　are；　who's　to　say　they're　the　loonies　because　they　don't　do　things　the　way　Joe　Punter　thinks　they　ought　to　be　done？　If　they　thought　the　same　way　as　Joe　Punter；　they'd　be　Joe　Punter；　and　somebody　else　would　be　having　all　the　fun。'
　　
　　'Survival　of　the　fittest。'
　　
　　'Yeah。'
　　
　　'Survival　of　the…'　Jamie　drew　his　breath　in　sharply　and　pulled　the　stick　so　hard　he　almost　fell　off　his　stool；　but　he　managed　to　dodge　the　darting　yellow　bolts　that　had　driven　him　into　the　corner　of　the　screen　'…nastiest。'　He　looked　up　at　me　and　grinned　quickly　before　hunching　over　the　controls　again。　I　drank；　nodded。
　　
　　'If　you　like。　If　the　nastiest　survive；　then　that's　our　tough　shit。'
　　
　　'〃Us〃　being　all　us　Joe　Punters；'　Jamie　said。
　　
　　'Aye；　or　everybody。　The　whole　species。　If　we're　really　so　bad　and　so　thick　that　we'd　actually　use　all　those　wonderful　H…bombs　and　Neutron　bombs　on　each　other；　then　maybe　it's　just　as　well　we　do　wipe　ourselves　out　before　we　can　get　into　space　and　start　doing　horrible　things　to　other　races。'
　　
　　'You　mean　we'll　be　the　Space　Invaders？'
　　
　　'Yeah！'　I　laughed；　and　rocked　back　on　my　stool。　'That's　it！　That's　really　us！'　I　laughed　again　and　tapped　the　screen　above　a　formation　of　red　and　green　flapping　things；　just　as　one　of　them；　peeling　off　to　the　side　of　the　main　pack；　dived　down　firing　at　Jamie's　craft；　missing　it　with　its　shots　but　clipping　him　with　one　green　wing　as　it　disappeared　off　the　bottom　of　the　screen；　so　that　Jamie's　craft　detonated　in　a　blaze　of　flashing　red　and　yellow。
　　
　　'Shit；'　he　said；　sitting　back。　He　shook　his　head。
　　
　　I　sat　forward　and　waited　for　my　craft　to　appear。
　　
　　Just　a　little　drunk　on　my　three　pints；　I　cycled　back　to　the　island　whistling。　I　always　enjoyed　my　lunch…time　chats　with　Jamie。　We　sometimes　talk　when　we　meet　on　Saturday　nights；　but　we　can't　hear　when　the　bands　are　on；　and　afterwards　I'm　either　too　drunk　to　talk　or；　if　I　can　speak；　I'm　too　drunk　to　recall　much　of　what　I've　said。　Which；　e　to　think　of　it；　is　probably　just　as　well；　judging　by　the　way　people　who　are　normally　quite　sensible　dissolve　into　gibbering；　rude；　opinionated　and　bombastic　idiots　once　the　alcohol　molecules　in　their　bloodstream　outnumber　their　neurons；　or　whatever。　Luckily；　one　only　notices　this　if　one　stays　sober　oneself；　so　the　solution　is　as　pleasant　（at　the　time；　at　least）　as　it　is　obvious。
　　
　　My　father　was　asleep　in　a　deckchair　in　the　front　garden　when　I　got　back。　I　left　the　bike　in　the　shed　and　watched　him　from　the　shed　door　for　a　while；　poised　so　that　if　he　happened　to　wake　up　it　would　look　as　though　I　was　just　in　the　act　of　shutting　the　door。　His　head　was　tilted　a　little　to　me　and　his　mouth　was　slightly　open。　He　had　dark　glasses　on；　but　I　could　just　see　through　them　to　his　closed　eyes。
　　
　　I　had　to　go　for　a　piss；　so　I　didn't　watch　him　for　very　long。　Not　that　I　had　any　particular　reason　for　watching　him；　I　just　liked　doing　it。　It　made　me　feel　good　to　know　that　I　could　see　him　and　he　couldn't　see　me；　and　that　I　was　aware　and　fully　conscious　and　he　wasn't。
　　
　　I　went　into　the　house。
　　
　　
　　
　　I　had　spent　Monday；　after　a　cursory　check　of　the　Poles；　making　one　or　two　repairs　and　improvements　to　the　Factory；　working　through　the　afternoon　until　my　eyes　got　sore　and　my　father　had　to　call　up　to　me　to　e　down　for　my　dinner。
　　
　　In　the　evening　it　rained；　so　I　had　stayed　in　and　watched　television。　I　went　to　bed　early。　Eric　didn't　call。

　　
　　
　　
　　After　I'd　got　rid　of　about　half　the　beer　I'd　drunk　in　the　Arms；　I　went　to　have　another　look　at　the　Factory。　I　clambered　up　into　the　loft；　all　sunlight　and　warmth　and　smelling　of　old　and　interesting　books；　and