ib.thewaspfactory-第34部分

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ble。
　　
　　Finally；　though；　that　outward　urge　consumed　him；　as　it　does　any　real　man；　and　it　took　him　away　from　me；　to　the　outside　world　with　all　its　fabulous　opportunities　and　awful　dangers。　Eric　decided　to　follow　in　his　father's　footsteps　and　bee　a　doctor。　He　told　me　then　that　nothing　much　would　change；　he　would　still　have　most　of　the　summer　off；　even　if　he　would　have　to　stay　down　in　Glasgow　to　do　hospital　work　or　go　around　with　doctors　when　they　visited　people；　he　told　me　that　we　would　still　be　the　same　when　we　were　together；　but　I　knew　it　wasn't　true；　and　I　could　see　that　in　his　heart　he　knew　it；　too。　It　was　there　in　his　eyes　and　his　words。　He　was　leaving　the　island；　leaving　me。
　　
　　I　couldn't　blame　him；　even　then；　when　I　felt　it　hardest。　He　was　Eric；　he　was　my　brother；　he　was　doing　what　he　had　to　do；　just　like　the　brave　soldier　who　died　for　the　cause；　or　for　me。
　　
　　How　could　I　doubt　or　blame　him　when　he　had　never　even　started　to　suggest　that　he　doubted　or　blamed　me　？　My　God；　all　those　murders；　those　three　young　children　killed；　one　a　fratricide。　And　he　simply　could　not　have　entertained　the　idea　that　I　had　had　a　hand　in　even　one　of　them。　I　would　have　known。　He　couldn't　have　looked　me　in　the　face　if　he　had　suspected；　he　was　so　incapable　of　deceit。
　　
　　So　south　he　went；　first　one　year；　carried　there　earlier　than　most　by　his　brilliant　examination　results；　then　another。　The　summer　in　between　he　came　back；　but　he　was　changed。　He　still　tried　to　get　along　with　me　the　way　he　always　had；　but　I　could　feel　it　was　forced。　He　was　away　from　me；　his　heart　was　no　longer　on　the　island。　It　was　with　the　people　he　knew　in　the　University；　with　his　studies；　which　he　loved；　it　was　in　all　the　rest　of　the　world　perhaps；　but　it　was　no　longer　on　the　island。　No　longer　with　me。
　　
　　We　went　out；　we　flew　kites；　built　dams　and　so　on；　but　it　wasn't　the　same；　he　was　an　adult　helping　me　to　enjoy　myself；　not　another　boy　sharing　his　own　joy。　It　wasn't　a　bad　time；　and　I　was　still　glad　he　was　there；　but　he　was　relieved　to　go　after　a　month　to　join　some　of　his　student　friends　on　a　holiday　in　the　South　of　France。　I　mourned　what　I　knew　was　the　passing　of　the　friend　and　brother　I　had　known；　and　felt　more　keenly　than　at　any　other　time　my　injury…that　thing　which　I　knew　would　keep　me　in　my　adolescent　state　for　ever；　would　never　let　me　grow　up　and　be　a　real　man；　able　to　make　my　own　way　in　the　world。
　　
　　I　threw　that　feeling　off　quickly。　I　had　the　Skull；　I　had　the　Factory；　and　I　had　a　vicarious　feeling　of　manly　satisfaction　in　the　brilliant　performance　of　Eric　on　the　outside　as；　for　my　part；　I　slowly　made　myself　unchallenged　lord　of　the　island　and　the　lands　about　it。　Eric　wrote　me　letters　telling　me　how　he　was　getting　on；　he　called　up　and　spoke　to　me　and　my　father；　and　he　would　make　me　laugh　then　on　the　phone；　the　way　a　clever　adult　can；　even　though　you　might　not　want　to　let　them。　He　never　let　me　feel　that　he　had　totally　abandoned　me　or　the　island。
　　
　　Then　he　had　his　unfortunate　experience　which；　unknown　to　me　and　my　father；　came　on　top　of　other　things；　and　it　was　enough　to　kill　even　the　altered　person　I　knew。　It　was　to　send　Eric　flying　back　and　out　to　something　else：　an　amalgam　of　both　his　earlier　self　（but　satanically　reversed）　and　a　more　worldy…wise　man；　an　adult　damaged　and　dangerous；　confused　and　pathetic　and　manic　all　at　once。　He　reminded　me　of　a　hologram；　shattered；　with　the　whole　image　contained　within　one　spear…like　shard；　at　once　splinter　and　entirety。
　　
　　It　was　during　that　second　year；　when　he　was　helping　out　in　a　big　teaching　hospital；　that　it　happened。　He　didn't　even　have　to　be　there　at　the　time；　down　in　the　guts　of　the　hospital　with　human　rejects；　he　was　helping　out　in　his　spare　time。　Later　my　father　and　I　heard　that　Eric　had　had　problems　he　hadn't　told　us　about。　He'd　fallen　for　some　girl　and　it　had　ended　badly；　with　her　telling　him　she　didn't　love　him　after　all　and　going　off　with　somebody　else。　His　migraines　had　been　particularly　bad　for　a　while　and　had　interfered　with　his　work。　It　was　because　of　that　as　well　as　the　girl　that　he　had　been　working　unofficially　in　the　hospital　near　the　University　；　helping　the　nurses　on　late　shifts；　sitting　in　the　darkness　of　the　wards　with　his　books　while　the　old　and　the　young　and　the　sick　moaned　and　coughed。
　　
　　He　was　doing　that　the　night　he　had　his　unpleasant　experience。　The　ward　was　one　where　they　kept　babies　and　young　children　so　badly　deformed　they　were　sure　to　die　outside　hospital；　and　not　last　much　longer　even　inside。　We　got　a　letter　explaining　most　of　what　had　happened　from　a　nurse　who　had　been　friendly　with　my　brother；　and　from　the　tone　of　her　letter　she　thought　it　was　wrong　to　keep　some　of　the　children　alive；　apparently；　they　were　little　else　than　exhibits　to　be　shown　to　students　by　the　doctors　and　consultants。
　　
　　It　was　a　hot；　close　night　in　July；　and　Eric　was　down　in　this　ghoulish　place；　near　the　hospital　boiler　room　and　store　rooms。
　　
　　He'd　had　a　sore　head　all　day；　and　while　he　was　in　the　ward　it　had　worsened　into　a　bad　migraine。　The　ventilation　in　the　place　had　been　faulty　for　the　past　couple　of　weeks；　and　engineers　had　been　working　on　the　system；　that　night　it　was　hot　and　stuffy；　and　Eric's　migraines　have　always　been　bad　in　those　conditions。　Somebody　was　ing　to　replace　him　in　an　hour　or　so；　or　I　suppose　even　Eric　would　have　admitted　defeat　and　left　to　go　back　to　his　hall　of　residence　and　lie　down。　As　it　was；　he　was　going　round　the　ward　changing　nappies　and　quieting　mewling　babies　and　changing　dressings　and　drips　or　whatever；　his　head　feeling　as　though　it　was　splitting　and　his　vision　distorted　with　lights　and　lines。
　　
　　The　child　he　was　attending　to　when　it　happened　was　more　or　less　a　vegetable。　Amongst　its　other　defects　it　was　totally　incontinent；　unable　to　make　any　other　noise　apart　from　a　gurgle；　couldn't　control　its　muscles　properly…even　its　head　had　to　be　supported　by　a　brace…and　it　wore　a　metal　plate　over　its　head　because　the　bones　which　should　have　made　up　its　skull　never　did　grow　together；　and　even　the　skin　over　its　brain　was　paper　thin。
　　
　　It　had　to　be　fed　every　few　hours　with　some　special　mixture；　and　Eric　was　doing　that　when　it　happened。　He　had　noticed　that　the　child　was　a　little　quieter　than　usual；　just　sitting　there　slackly　in　its　chair　and　staring　straight　ahead；　breathing　lightly；　eyes　glazed　and　an　almost　peaceful　expression　on　its　usually　vacant　face。　It　seemed　to　be　incapable　of　taking　its　food；　though…one　of　the　few　activities　that　normally　it　was　able　to　appreciate　and　even　join　in。　Eric　was　patient；　and　held　the　spoon　in　front　of　its　unfocused　eyes；　he　put　it　to　its　lips　where　normally　the　child　would　have　put　its　tongue　out；　or　try　to　lean　forward　and　take　the　spoon　into　its　mouth；　but　that　night　it　just　sat　there；　not　gurgling；　not　shaking　its　head　or　shifting　or　flapping　its　arms　or　rolling　its　eyes　but　staring　and　staring；　that　curious　look　on　its　face　which　might　have　been　mistaken　for　happiness。
　　
　　Eric　persevered；　sitting　closer；　trying　to　ignore　the　pressing　pain　in　his　own　head　as　the　migraine　got　gradually　worse。　He　spoke　gently　to　the　child…something　that　would　normally　get　it　to　swivel　its　eyes　and　shift　its　head　towards　the　source　of　the　noise；　but　which　that　night　had　no　effect　at　all。　Eric　checked　the　sheet　of　paper　by　the　chair　to　see　if　the　child　had　been　given　any　extra　medication；　but　everything　appeared　normal。　He　edged　closer；　crooning；　waving　the　spoon；　fighting　the　waves　of　pain　inside　his　skull。
　　
　　Then　he　saw　something；　something　like　a　movement；　just　a　tiny　little　movement；　barely　visible　on　the　shaved　head　of　the　slightly　smiling　child。　Whatever　it　was　was　small　and　slow。
　　
　　Eric　blinked；　shook　his　head　to　try　to　dislodge　the　quivering　lights　of　the　migraine　building　inside。　He　stood　up；　still　holding　the　spoon　with　the　mushy　food　on　it。　He　bent　closer　to　the　skull　of　the　child；　looking　closer。　He　couldn't　see　anything；　but　he　looked　round　the　edge　of　the　metal　skull…cap　the　child　wore；　thought　he　saw　something　under　it；　and　lifted　it　easily　from　the　head　of　the　infant　to　see　if　there　was　anything　wrong。
　　
　　A　boiler…room　worker　heard　Eric　screamin