细雨即将来临（一）

文◎Ray Bradbury 译◎王赟 绘◎夏日已尽

细雨即将来临（一）

There Will Come Soft Rains

暗黑书屋

文◎Ray Bradbury 译◎王赟 绘◎夏日已尽

In the living room the voice-clock sang， Tick-tock， seven o'clock，time to get up， time to get up， seven o'clock！ as if it were afraid that nobody would. The morning house lay empty. The clock ticked on，repeating and repeating its sounds into the emptiness. Seven-nine，breakfast time， seven-nine！

In the kitchen the breakfast stove gave a hissing sigh and ejected from its warm interior eight pieces of perfectly browned toast， eight eggs sunnyside up， sixteen slices of bacon， two coffees， and two cool glasses of milk.

起居室里的人声闹钟正唱得起劲：“嘀嗒，七点了，快起床。起床了，七点整！”它生怕没人照它的话去做，在空荡荡的房间里，继续提醒主人：“七点九分，吃早餐，七点九分！”

厨房里，炉子“咝”地响了一下，便从温暖的炉箱里推出一套早饭：八片烤得金黄的面包，八个煎了一面的鸡蛋，六片熏肉，两份咖啡和两杯盛满的牛奶。

“今天是2026年8月4日，”厨房的天花板接过话头，“加利福尼亚的阿利达尔市。”为了强调，它把日期重复了三遍。“今天是费莱斯顿先生的生日，今天也是特丽塔的结婚纪念日。今天要支付保险金以及水、电、燃气费用。”

墙里的什么地方，记忆磁带正在电子程序的监控下“嗒嗒”地滑动着。

“八点零一分，嘀嗒，八点零一分，上学啦，上班啦，赶快，赶快，八点零一分了！”

车库的门轰然开启，它等着车子开出去。停留稍许，才缓缓落下。

“九点十五分，”闹钟唱道，“大扫除。”许多机器小鼠飞快地从墙里的小洞中钻出来。不久，房子中所有的塑胶和金属上都爬满了这种小清洁工。它们“砰砰”地靠近椅子，转动触须把地毯脱落的绒毛揉成团，轻轻地把隐藏在缝隙里的灰尘吸走。然后，它们如同神秘的侵略者，急速奔回先前的小洞。它们浅红的电子眼熄灭了，房子被打扫得焕然一新。

十点十分。太阳从雨后探出身子。这所房子孤零零地立在这座城市的废墟中，它是核战后唯一的幸存者。入夜，几英里外都能看见这座城市发出放射性的荧光。

十点十五分。洒水管从院子里缓缓地旋出地面，水花给清晨柔和的空气带来了闪烁的光辉。这栋房子原本上了白漆，西墙几乎焚毁了，只有五个地方保留着原来的漆色。就像映在底片上一样，这儿显出一个正在修剪草坪的男人的轮廓，还有一个妇女在弯腰摘花。远一点的地方，一个小男孩双手伸向空中，高一点的地方是一只掷出的球的影像。小男孩的对面站着一个女孩，她正要接那只球，但是这只球永远也不会落下了，就在那威力巨大的一瞬间，他们的剪影被墙面烧焦的部分记录下来。

五幅画：男人，妇女，孩子们，还有那只球——静止的球。薄薄的浅色墙壁，保存下了核浩劫降临大地那一瞬间，一个充满生命的欢欣的场景。淅沥而下的雨水闪着粼光，充溢了整个院子。

"Today is August 4， 2026，" said a second voice from the kitchen ceiling， "in the city of Allendale， California." It repeated the date three times for memory's sake. "Today is Mr. Featherstone' s birthday. Today is the anniversary of Tilita' s marriage. Insurance is payable， as are the water， gas， and light bills."

Somewhere in the walls， relays clicked， memory tapes glided under electric eyes.

Eight-one， tick-tock， eight-one o'clock， off to school， off to work， run， run， eight-one！

And the rain tapped on the empty house， echoing①. Outside， the garage chimed②and lifted its door to reveal the waiting car. After a long wait the door swung down again.

Nine-fi fteen， sang the clock， time to clean.

Out of warrens in the wall， tiny robot mice darted. The rooms were acrawl③with the small cleaning animals， all rubber and metal. They thudded against chairs， whirling their mustached④mustache 英 ［mə'stɑːʃ］ 美 ［'mʌstæʃ］ n. 胡子，髭runners， kneading the rug nap， sucking gently at hidden dust. Then， like mysterious invaders， they popped into their burrows. Their pink electric eyes faded. The house was clean.

Ten o'clock. The sun came out from behind the rain. The house stood alone in a city of rubble and ashes. This was the one house left standing. At night the ruined city gave off a radioactive glow which could be seen for miles.

Ten-fifteen. The garden sprinklers⑤sprinkler 英 ［'sprɪŋklə］ 美 ［'sprɪŋklɚ］n. 洒水车；洒水器whirled up in golden founts， filling the soft morning air with scatterings of brightness. The water pelted windowpanes， running down the charred west side where the house had been burned evenly free of its white paint. The entire west face of the house was black， save for five places. Here the silhouette⑥silhouette英 ［，sɪlʊ'et］ 美 ［，sɪlu'ɛt］ n. 轮廓，剪影vt. 使……照出影子来；使……仅仅显出轮廓in paint of a man mowing a lawn. Here， as in a photograph， a woman bent to pick flowers. Still farther over， their images burned on wood in one titanic⑦titanic ［taɪ'tænɪk］ adj. 巨大的；四价钛的instant， a small boy， hands flung into the air； higher up， the image of a thrown ball， and opposite him a girl， hands raised to catch a ball which never came down. The five spots of paint—the man， the woman， the children， the ball—remained. The rest was a thin charcoaled layer.

The gentle sprinkler rain filled the garden with falling light.