A Shower of Gold
A Shower of Gold (第2/3页)
himinthebackoftheneck.ThenthePresidentliftedthesledgehighintheair,turnedtowardPeterson,andsaid:"Yourliverisdiseased?Thatsagoodsign.Youremakingprogress.Yourethinking."
"IhappentothinkthatguyintheWhiteHouseisdoingaprettydarngoodjob."Petersonsbarber,amannamedKitchenwhowasalsoalayanalystandtheauthoroffourbookstitledTheDecisionToBe,wastheonlypersonintheworldtowhomhehadconfidedhisformersenseofcommunitywiththePresident."Asfarashisrelationshipwithyoupersonallygoes,"thebarbercontinued,"itsessentiallyakindofI-Thourelationship,ifyouknowwhatImean.Yougottohandleitwithfullawarenessoftheimplications.Intheendoneexperiencesonlyoneself,Nietzschesaid.WhenyoureangrywiththePresident,whatyouexperienceisself-as-angry-with-the-President.Whenthingsareokaybetweenyouandhim,whatyouexperienceisself-as-swinging-with-the-President.Wellandgood.But,"Kitchensaid,latheringup,"youwanttherelationshiptobesuchthatwhatyouexperienceisthe-President-as-swinging-with-you.Youwanthisreality,getit?Sothatyoucanbreakoutofthehellofsolipsism.Howaboutalittlemoreoffthesides?""Everybodyknowsthelanguagebutme,"Petersonsaidirritably."Look,"Kitchensaid,"whenyoutalkaboutmetosomebodyelse,yousaymybarber,dontyou?Sureyoudo.Inthesameway,Ilookatyouasbeingmycustomer,getit?ButyoudontregardyourselfasbeingmycustomerandIdontregardmyselfasyourbarber.Oh,itshellallright."TherazormovedlikeaswitchbladeacrossthebackofPetersonsneck."LikePascalsaid:Thenaturalmisfortuneofourmortalandfeebleconditionissowretchedthatwhenweconsideritclosely,nothingcanconsoleus.Therazorrocketedaroundanear."Listen,"Petersonsaid,"whatdoyouthinkofthistelevisionprogramcalledWhoAm1?Everseenit?""Frankly,"thebarbersaid,"itsmellsofthelibrary.Buttheydoajobonthosepeople,Illtellyouthat.""Whatdoyoumean?"Petersonsaidexcitedly."Whatkindofajob?"Theclothwaswhiskedawayandshakenwithasharppoppingsound."Itstoohorribleeventotalkabout,"Kitchensaid."Butitswhattheydeserve,thosecrumbs.""Whichcrumbs?"Petersonasked.
Thatnightatallforeign-lookingmanwithaswitchbladebigasabutcherknifeopeninhishandwalkedintotheloftwithoutknockingandsaid"Goodevening,Mr.Peterson,Iamthecat-pianoplayer,isthereanythingyoudparticularlyliketohear?""Cat-piano?"Petersonsaid,gasping,shrinkingfromtheknife."Whatareyoutalkingabout?Whatdoyouwant?"AbiographyofNoldeslidfromhislaptothefloor."Thecat-piano,"saidthevisitor,"isaninstrumentofthedevil,adiabolicalinstrument.Youneedntsweatquitesomuch,"headded,soundingaggrieved.Petersontriedtobebrave."Idontunderstand,"hesaid."Letmeexplain,"thetallforeign-lookingmansaidgraciously."Thekeyboardconsistsofeightcats——theoctave——encasedinthebodyoftheinstrumentinsuchawaythatonlytheirheadsandforepawsprotrude.Theplayerpressesupontheappropriatepaws,andtheappropriatecatsrespond——withakindofshriek.Thereisalsoprovisionmadeforpullingtheirtails.Atail-puller,orperhapsIshouldsaytailplayer"(hesmiledadisingenuoussmile)"isstationedattherearoftheinstrument,wherethetailsare.Atthecorrectmomentthetail-pullerpullsthecorrecttail.Thetail-noteisofcoursequitedifferentfromthepaw-noteandproducessoundsintheupperregisters.Haveyoueverseensuchaninstrument,Mr.Peterson?""No,andIdontbelieveitexists,"Petersonsaidheroically."Thereisanexcellentearlyseventeenth-centuryengravingbyFranzvanderWyngaert,Mr.Peterson,inwhichacat-pianoappears.Played,asithappens,byamanwithawoodenleg.Youwillobservemyownleg."Thecat-pianoplayerhoistedhistrousersandaleglikecontraptionofwood,metalandplasticappeared."Andnow,wouldyouliketomakearequest?TheMartyrdomofSt.Sebastian?TheRomeoandJulietoverture?HolidayforStrings?""Butwhy——"Petersonbegan."Thekitteniscryingformilk,Mr.Peterson.Andwheneverakittencries,thecat-pianoplays.""Butitsnotmykitten,"Petersonsaidreasonably."Itsjustakittenthatwisheditselfonme.Ivebeentryingtogiveitaway.Imnotsureitsstillaround.Ihaventseenitsincethedaybeforeyesterday."Thekittenappeared,lookedatPetersonreproachfully,andthenrubbeditselfagainstthecat-pianoplayersmechanicalleg."Waitaminute!"Petersonexclaimed."Thisthingisrigged!Thatcathasntbeenhereintwodays.Whatdoyouwantfromme?WhatamIsupposedtodo?""Choices,Mr.Peterson,choices.Youchosethatkittenasawayofencounteringthatwhichyouarenot,thatistosay,kitten.Aneffortonthepartofthepour-soito——""Butitchoseme!"Petersoncried,"thedoorwasopenandthefirstthingIknewitwaslyinginmybed,undertheArmyblanket.Ididnthaveanythingtodowithit!"Thecat-pianoplayerrepeatedhisdisingenuoussmile."Yes,Mr.Peterson,Iknow,Iknow.Thingsaredoyou,itisallagiganticconspiracy.Iveheardthestoryahundredtimes.Butthekittenishere,isitnot?Thekittenisweeping,isitnot?"Petersonlookedatthekitten,whichwascryinghugetigerishtearsintoitsemptydish."ListenMr.Peterson,"thecat-pianoplayersaid,"listen!"Thebladeofhisimmenseknifejumpedbackintothehandlewithathwack!andthehideousmusicbegan.
ThedayafterthehideousmusicbeganthethreegirlsfromCaliforniaarrived.Petersonopenedhisdoor,hesitantly,inresponsetoaninsistentringing,andfoundhimselfbeingstaredatbythreegirlsinbluejeansandheavysweaters,carryingsuitcases."ImSherry,"thefirstgirlsaid,"andthisisAnnandthisisLouise.WerefromCaliforniaandweneedaplacetostay."Theywerehomelyandextremelypurposeful."Imsorry,"Petersonsaid,"Icant——""Wesleepanywhere,"Sherrysaid,lookingpasthimintothevastnessofhisloft,"onthefloorifwehaveto.Wevedoneitbefore."AnnandLouisestoodontheirtoestogetagoodlook."Whatsthatfunnymusic?"Sherryasked,"itsoundsprettyfar-out.Wereallywontbeanytroubleatallanditlljustbealittlewhileuntilwemakeaconnection.""Yes,"Petersonsaid,"butwhyme?""Youreanartist,"Sherrysaidsternly,"wesawtheA.I.R.signdownstairs."Petersoncursedthefirelawswhichmadepostingofthesignsobligatory."Listen,"hesaid,"Icantevenfeedthecat.Icantevenkeepmyselfinbeer.Thisisnottheplace.Youwontbehappyhere.Myworkisntauthentic.Imaminorartist.""Thenaturalmisfortuneofourmortala
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