Unit 8B - Harrison Bergeron
Harrison Bergeron
Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
The year was 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren't only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else. All this equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments to the Constitution, and to the unceasing vigilance of agents of the United States Handicapper General.
Some things about living still weren't quite right, though. April, for instance, still drove people crazy by not being springtime. And it was in that clammy month that the H-G men took George and Hazel Bergeron's fourteen-year-old son, Harrison, away.
It was tragic, all right, but George and Hazel couldn't think about it very hard. Hazel had a perfectly average intelligence, which meant she couldn't think about anything except in short bursts. And George, while his intelligence was way above normal, had a little mental handicap radio in his ear. He was required by law to wear it at all times. It was tuned to a government transmitter. Every twenty seconds or so, the transmitter would send out some sharp noise to keep people like George from taking unfair advantage of their brains.
George and Hazel were watching television. There were tears on Hazel's cheeks, but she'd forgotten for the moment what they were about.
On the television screen were ballerinas.
A buzzer sounded in George's head. His thoughts fled in panic; like bandits from a burglar alarm.
“That was a real pretty dance, that dance they just did," said Hazel.
"Huh?" said George.
"That dance—it was nice," said Hazel.
"Yup," said George. He tried to think a little about the ballerinas. They weren't really very good—no better than anybody else would have been, anyway. They had heavy bags on their backs to stop them from dancing well. George was thinking that maybe dancers shouldn't be handicapped. But he didn't get very far with it before another noise in his ear radio scattered his thoughts.
George winced. So did two of the eight ballerinas.
Hazel saw him wince. Having no mental handicap herself, she had to ask George what the latest sound had been.
"Sounded like somebody hitting a milk bottle with a hammer," said George.
"I'd think it would be real interesting, hearing all the different sounds," said Hazel, a little envious. "All the things they think up."
"Urn," said George.
"Only, if I was Handicapper General, you know what I would do?" said Hazel. Hazel, as a matter of fact, was very much like the Handicapper General, a woman named Diana Moon Glampers. "If I was Diana Moon Glampers," said Hazel, 'I'd have chimes on Sunday—just chimes. Kind of in honor of religion."
"I could think, if it was just chimes," said George.
"Well—maybe make'em real loud," said Hazel. "I think I'd make a good Handicapper General."
"Good as anybody else," said George.
"Who knows better'n I do what normal is?" said Hazel.
"Right," said George. He began to think glimmeringly about his abnormal son who was now in jail, about Harrison, but a twenty-one-gun salute in his head stopped that.
"Boy!" said Hazel, "that was a doozy, wasn't it?"
It was such a doozy that George was white and trembling, and tears stood on the rims of his red eyes. Two of the eight ballerinas had collapsed on the studio floor, and were holding their heads.
"All of a sudden you look so tired," said Hazel. "Why don't you stretch out on the sofa, so's you can rest your handicap bag on the pillows, honeybunch." She was referring to the forty-seven pounds of weight in a canvas bag, which was locked around George's neck. "Go on and rest the bag for a little while," she said. "I don't care if you're not equal to me for a while."
George weighed the bag with his hands. "I don't mind it," he said. "I don't notice it any more. It's just a part of me."
"You've been so tired lately—kind of worn out,'' said Hazel. "If there was just some way we could make a little hole in the bottom of the bag, and just take out something. Just a little."
"Two years in prison and two thousand dollars fine for every piece I took out," said George. "I don't call that a bargain."
"If you could just take a few out when you came home from work," said Hazel. "I mean—you don't compete with anybody around here. You just sit around."
"If I tried to get away with it," said George, "then other people'd get away with it—and pretty soon we'd be right back to the dark ages again, with everybody competing against everybody else. You wouldn't like that, would you?"
"I'd hate it," said Hazel.
"There you are," said George. "The minute people start cheating on laws, what do you think happens to society?"
If Hazel hadn't been able to come up with an answer to this question, George couldn't have supplied one. A siren was going off in his head.
"Think it'd fall all apart," said Hazel.
"What would?" said George blankly.
"Society," said Hazel uncertainly. "Wasn't that what you just said?"
"Who knows?" said George.
The television program was suddenly interrupted for a news bulletin. It wasn't clear at first as to what it was about, since the announcer, like all announcers, did not speak clearly. For about half a minute, and in a state of high excitement, the announcer tried to say, "Ladies and gentlemen—"
He finally gave up, handed the bulletin to a ballerina to read.
"That's all right—" Hazel said to George, "he tried. That's the big thing. He tried to do the best he could with what God gave him. He should get a nice raise for trying so hard."
"Ladies and gentlemen—" said the ballerina, reading the bulletin. She must have been extraordinarily beautiful, because the mask she wore was hideous. And it was easy to see that she was the strongest and most graceful of all the dancers, for her handicap bags were as big as those worn by two-hundred-pound men.
And she had to apologize at once for her voice, which was not a good voice for a woman to use. "Excuse me—" she said, and she began again, making her voice absolutely uncompetitive.
"Harrison Bergeron, age fourteen," she said, "has just escaped from jail, where he was held on suspicion of plotting to overthrow the government. He is a genius and an athlete, is underhandicapped, and should be regarded as extremely dangerous."
A police photograph of Harrison Bergeron was flashed on the screen upside down, then sideways, upside down again, then right side up. The picture showed the full length of Harrison. He was exactly seven feet tall.
Harrison had many, many heavy handicaps nobody else had ever borne. Instead of a little ear radio for a mental handicap, he wore a tremendous pair of earphones, and spectacles with thick wavy lenses. The spectacles were intended to make him not only half blind, but to give him bad headaches as well.
And to spoil his good looks, the H-G men required that he wear at all times a red rubber ball for a nose, keep his eyebrows shaved off, and cover his even white teeth with black caps.
"If you see this boy," said the ballerina, "do not—I repeat, do not—try to reason with him."
There was the shriek of a door being torn from its hinges.
Screams and cries came from the television set. The photograph of Harrison Bergeron on the screen jumped again and again, as though dancing to the tune of an earthquake.
George Bergeron correctly identified the earthquake, and well he might have—for many was the time his own home had danced to the same crashing tune. "My God—" said George, "that must be Harrison!"
The realization was lost from his mind instantly by the sound of an motor crash in his head.
A moment passed, and then a ballerina arose, swaying like a willow. Harrison plucked the mental handicap from her ear, took off her physical handicaps quickly. Last of all, he removed her mask.
She was blindingly beautiful.
"Now—" said Harrison, taking her hand, "shall we show the people the meaning of the word dance? Music!" he commanded.
The musicians got back into their chairs, and Harrison took off their handicaps, too. "Play your best," he told them, "and I'll make you barons and dukes and earls."
The music began. It was normal at first—cheap, silly, false. But Harrison pulled two musicians from their chairs, waved them like batons as he sang the music as he wanted it played. He slammed them back into their chairs.
The music began again and was much improved.
Harrison and his Empress merely listened to the music for a while—listened gravely, as though letting their hearts beat with it.
They shifted their weights to their toes.
Harrison placed his big hands on the girl's tiny waist, letting her sense the weightlessness that would soon be hers.
And then, in an explosion of joy and grace, into the air they sprang!
Not only were the laws of the land abandoned, but the law of gravity and the laws of motion as well.
They reeled, whirled, swiveled, flounced, capered, gamboled, and spun.
The studio ceiling was thirty feet high, but each leap brought the dancers nearer to it.
It became their obvious intention to kiss the ceiling.
They kissed it.
And then, neutralizing gravity with love and pure will, they remained suspended in air inches below the ceiling, and they kissed each other for a long, long time.
It was then that Diana Moon Glampers, the Handicapper General, came into the studio with a double-barreled ten gauge shotgun. She fired twice, and the Emperor and the Empress were dead before they hit the floor.
Diana Moon Glampers loaded the gun again. She aimed it at the musicians and told them they had ten seconds to get their handicaps back on. It was then that the Bergerons' television tube burned out.
Hazel turned to comment about the blackout to George. But George had gone out into the kitchen for a can of beer. George came back in with the beer, paused while a handicap signal shook him up. And then he sat down again. "You been crying?" he said to Hazel.
"Yup," she said.
"What about?" he said.
"I forgot," she said. "Something real sad on television."
"What was it?" he said.
“It's all kind of mixed up in my mind," said Hazel.
"Forget sad things," said George.
"I always do," said Hazel.
"That's my girl," said George. He winced. There was the sound of a gun in his head.
"Gee—I could tell that one was a doozy," said Hazel.
"You can say that again," said George.
"Gee—" said Hazel, "I could tell that one was a doozy."
参考译文——哈里森·伯杰龙
哈里森·伯杰龙
库尔特·冯内古特
那是2081年，终于所有人都平等了。他们不只在上帝和法律面前平等，在各个方面都平等。没有哪个人比别人更聪明，没有哪个人比别人更好看，也没有哪个人比别人更强壮或更敏捷。这些平等都是因为有了第211、第212和第213号宪法修订法案，以及美国缺陷裁定将军（H-G）手下毫不懈怠地保持警觉的探员们。
然而，生活中有些事儿还是不太对劲。比如说，4月份春天还迟迟不来，让人们抓狂。同时，也正是在这个湿冷的月份，H-G探员把伯杰龙夫妇——乔治和海瑟14岁的儿子哈里森带走了。
那确实是一场悲剧，但乔治和海瑟却不能去想太多。海瑟智力一般，完全符合要求，这表示她除了一点突发奇想外没办法思考什么事情；而乔治，由于智力比正常人高些，因此耳朵里有个小型心智残障接收器。依法他必须随时佩戴。接收器被调到了政府的一个频道。大概每20秒左右，电台就会发出某种尖锐声响，好防止乔治这种人不公平地利用他们聪明的头脑。
乔治和海瑟正在看电视。海瑟脸颊上挂着泪，但她已忘了流泪的原因。
电视荧幕上有一群芭蕾舞者。
一阵嗡嗡声在乔治脑中响起，让他的思绪像强盗被防盗警铃吓跑一般慌乱地消失了。
“她们刚才那支舞跳得真不错，”海瑟说。
“啥？”乔治说。
“跳舞——很不错，”海瑟说。
“是啊，”乔治说。他试着思考一下那群芭蕾舞者。他们其实跳得一点都不好——反正不会比任何人好到哪去。为了防止跳得优美，她们都背着重沙袋。乔治此时思索着：也许芭蕾舞者不该穿戴残障物。但他还没来得及多想，另一道噪音就轰然粉粹了脑中那个念头。
乔治的面部抽搐了一下。八名芭蕾舞者中的两人也是。
海瑟看见他抽搐了。她身上没有残障物，只好问乔治听到的是什么声音。
“听起来像有人用榔头敲牛奶瓶，”乔治说。
“我想那一定很有趣，可以听到那么多不同的声音，”海瑟有点羡慕地说。“他们想出了那么多点子。”
“呃……”乔治说。
“如果我是缺陷裁定将军，你知道我要怎么做吗？”海瑟说。事实上，海瑟长得很像缺陷裁定将军——一位名叫黛安娜·穆恩·格拉姆珀斯的女子。“如果我是黛安娜·穆恩·格拉姆珀斯，”海瑟说，“我会在星期天敲钟——就只是敲钟。有点像宗教仪式。”
“如果只是敲钟，那我可以思考，”乔治说。
“嗯——也许得敲得很大声，"海瑟说，“我想我能成为一名优秀的缺陷裁定将军。”
“跟大家一样优秀，”乔治说。
“还有谁比我更了解正常是什么样？”海瑟说。
“是啊，”乔治说。他开始隐约地想起自己那正关在牢里的不正常的儿子，想起哈里森，但脑中的21响礼炮声打断了他的思路。
“老天！”海瑟说，“那响声真好玩儿，不是吗？”
这件“好玩儿”的事情让乔治面色发白、全身颤抖，眼泪在红肿的眼眶中打转。八位芭蕾舞者中的两人也抱着头瘫倒在演播室的地上。
“你突然看起来好累，”海瑟说。“你干嘛不去沙发上躺一下，这样就能把残障袋靠在枕头上，亲爱的。”她是指被环锁在乔治脖子上的那47磅重的帆布袋。“快去把袋子靠在沙发上一小会儿，”她说，“我不会在乎你那么一会儿跟我不平等。”
乔治用手掂了掂残障袋的重量。“没关系，”他说，“我已经感觉不到它了。它就像我身体的一部分。”
“你最近都很累——好像被累坏了，”海瑟说，“如果我们可以在袋子底下打个小洞，拿出点儿东西来就好了。就拿出一点儿来。”
“每拿出一颗，我就得坐两年牢，外加2000美元罚款，”乔治说，“这可不太划算。”
“你可以工作完回家时拿出一些，”海瑟说，“我是说——在这儿你不和什么人竞争，只是坐着而已。”
“但如果我试着那样做，”乔治说，“其他人也会，然后我们很快就会回到黑暗时代，所有人都彼此竞争。你不喜欢那样，不是吗？”
“我很讨厌那样，”海瑟说。
“那就对啦，”乔治说，“当人们开始逃避法律，你想社会将变成什么样？”
如果海瑟想不出答案，乔治也没法帮她想一个。他脑中一阵警报大作。
“我想它会四分五裂，”海瑟说。
“什么会四分五裂？”乔治茫然地问。
“社会啊，”海瑟不太确定地说，“你刚才讲的不是这个吗？”
“天晓得，”乔治说。
电视节目突然被一则新闻快报打断了。一开始不清楚是什么新闻，因为播音员跟其他播音员一样有些言语不清。有半分钟的时间，这位极度兴奋的播音员一直在试着说：“女士们、先生们——”
他终于放弃，把新闻稿交给一个芭蕾舞者朗读。
“没关系——”海瑟对乔治说，“他尽力了。这很重要。他用上帝赐给他的能力尽力地表现了。他应该因这么努力而获得加薪。”
“女士们、先生们——”芭蕾舞者说，读着新闻稿。她一定非常美丽，因为她脸上的面具实在丑陋无比；而且看得出来她是所有舞者中最强壮、最优雅的，因为她身上的残障袋跟200磅重的男子穿戴的那种一样大。
接着她马上为自己的嗓音致歉，因为那不是一个女人应该用的“公平”的嗓音。“抱歉——” 她说，然后她重新开始，把自己的声音弄得完全不具竞争性。
“哈里森·伯杰龙，14岁，”她念道，“刚从监狱逃出——他因为涉嫌策划推翻政府而被监禁。他是个天才且身体强壮，已穿戴残障物，被认定为极端危险分子。”
一张警方拍摄的哈里森·伯杰龙的身高标尺照片出现在荧幕上——先是上下颠倒，然后横了过来，再上下颠倒，最后才放正。那是张全身照，看得出他正好七英尺高。
哈里森穿戴着许多沉重的残障物，没人曾负荷过这样的重量。他耳朵上戴着的不是小型的心智残障接收器，而是一对特大号的耳机，另外还戴着一副厚厚的波浪镜片眼镜。眼镜不仅会让他半瞎，还能让他剧烈地头痛。
而为了抵消他的英俊长相，H-G探员要他鼻子上无时无刻不戴着一个红色橡胶球，剃掉所有眉毛，并给整齐洁白的牙齿套上黑帽儿。
“如果你看见这个男孩，”芭蕾舞者说，“不要——我再说一遍，绝不要——尝试和他讲理。”
这时传来一扇门被从合叶上扯下来的巨响。
电视机里传出尖叫和喊声。哈里森·伯杰龙的照片在荧幕上不断地跳动，仿佛在随着地震起舞一样。
乔治·布吉朗准确地辨认出了那震动，因为他本来就该认得的——他自己的家曾无数次经历过像这样的跳动。“老天——”乔治说，“那一定是哈里森！”
这个发现立刻被一阵汽车撞击声震出了脑袋。
过了一会儿，一位芭蕾舞者站了起来，像柳树一般摇晃着。哈里森拔出她耳中的心智残障接收器，飞快地扯下她身上的残障物。最后，他摘下她的面罩。
她美得炫目。
“现在，”哈里森牵起她的手说，“让我们教教这些人‘跳舞’这个词的真正含义吧？音乐！” 他命令道。
乐师坐回椅子上，哈里森也扯掉了他们身上的残障物。“演奏出你们的最高水平来，”他告诉他们，“我就会封你们当男爵、公爵和伯爵。”
音乐响起了。一开始十分正常——卑贱、愚蠢、虚假。但哈里森把两个乐师从椅子上抓起来，把他们像指挥棒一样用力摇，同时唱着他希望演奏的音。他把他们摔回座位上。
音乐再次响起，这次有了显著的进步。
哈里森和他的皇后仅听了一会儿——他们严肃地听着，仿佛让他们的心随着音乐跳动。
他们踮起脚尖。
哈里森把他的大手放在女孩纤细的腰上，让她体验即将到来的失重感。
接着，在一阵欢乐中，他们优雅地跃向空中！
他们不只摆脱了人间的法律，甚至摆脱了万有引力定律和运动定律的束缚。
他们旋转、回旋、转圈、跳动、雀跃、嬉戏，再旋转。
演播室的天花板有30英尺高，但两位舞者每跳一次都更接近天花板。
很显然他们想亲吻天花板。
他们吻到了。
而接着，他们以爱与无瑕的意念抵消重力，依然在天花板下方几英寸处悬浮着，并与对方深深相吻，吻了好久、好久。
就在此时，黛安娜·穆恩·格拉姆珀斯，也就是缺陷裁定将军，拿着一把十号口径的双管猎枪闯进演播室。她开了两枪，皇帝和皇后在落地前就死了。
黛安娜·穆恩·格拉姆珀斯再次上膛。她用枪指着乐师，告诉他们有十秒钟的时间把残障物戴回去。这时伯杰龙家的电视显像管烧了。
海瑟转头，想对乔治说说电视烧坏的事，不过乔治已经走进厨房去拿啤酒了。乔治拿着啤酒回来，在残障信号于脑中响起时他被震得停了一下，然后再次坐下。“你在哭吗？”他问海瑟。
“对啊，”海瑟说。
“为什么？”他说。
“我忘了，”她说，“电视上有件很糟的事。”
“那是什么？”他问。
“我脑子里一片混乱，”海瑟说。
“把糟糕事忘了吧，”乔治说。
“我每次都会的，”海瑟说。
“这才是我的老婆，”乔治说。他面部抽搐了一下，因为脑中响起了枪声。
“老天——我想那声音一定很好玩儿，”海瑟说。
“你可以再说一次（意思是“我完全同意”），”乔治说。
“老天——”海瑟说，“我想那声音一定很好玩儿。”
Key Words:
vigilance ['vidʒiləns]
n. 警戒，警惕
mental ['mentl]
adj. 精神的，脑力的，精神错乱的
n. 精
constitution [.kɔnsti'tju:ʃən]
n. 组织，宪法，体格
advantage [əd'vɑ:ntidʒ]
n. 优势，有利条件
vt. 有利于
except [ik'sept]
vt. 除，除外
prep. & conj.
intelligence [in'telidʒəns]
n. 理解力，智力
burglar ['bə:glə]
n. 窃贼
envious ['enviəs]
adj. 嫉妒的
adj. [古]好胜的，羡慕
screen [skri:n]
n. 屏，幕，银幕，屏风
v. 放映，选拔，掩
hammer ['hæmə]
n. 锤，榔头
vi. 锤击，反复敲打
panic ['pænik]
n. 恐慌
adj. 惊慌的
mental ['mentl]
adj. 精神的，脑力的，精神错乱的
canvas ['kænvəs]
n. 帆布，（帆布）画布，油画
abnormal [æb'nɔ:məl]
adj. 反常的，不正常的，不规则的
n. 不
salute [sə'lu:t]
v. 行礼，致意，问候
jail [dʒeil]
n. 监牢，监狱，拘留所
vt. 监禁，下狱
stretch [stretʃ]
n. 伸展，张开
compete [kəm'pi:t]
vi. 竞争，对抗，比赛
siren ['saiərin]
n. 汽笛，警报器
mask [mɑ:sk]
n. 面具，面罩，伪装
v. 戴面具，掩饰，遮
bulletin ['bulitin]
n. 公示，公报，新闻快报，期刊
vt. 发表
jail [dʒeil]
n. 监牢，监狱，拘留所
vt. 监禁，下狱
athlete ['æθli:t]
n. 运动员
suspicion [səs'piʃən]
n. 猜疑，怀疑
absolutely ['æbsəlu:tli]
adv. 绝对地，完全地;独立地
genius ['dʒi:njəs]
n. 天才，天赋
apologize [ə'pɔlədʒaiz]
vi. 道歉，谢罪
graceful ['greisfəl]
adj. 优雅的
interrupted [intə'rʌptid]
adj. 中断的；被打断的；不规则的 vt. 打断；中断
identified
adj. 被识别的；经鉴定的；被认同者 v. 鉴定（id
intended [in'tendid]
adj. 故意的，有意的；打算中的 n. 已订婚者 v.
spoil [spɔil]
n. 战利品，奖品
v. 宠坏，溺爱，破坏，腐
shriek [ʃri:k]
v. 尖叫，叫喊 n. 尖叫
tune [tju:n]
n. 曲调，调子，和谐，协调，调整
vt. 调
mental ['mentl]
adj. 精神的，脑力的，精神错乱的
n. 精
earthquake ['ə:θkweik]
n. 地震
screen [skri:n]
n. 屏，幕，银幕，屏风
v. 放映，选拔，掩
rubber ['rʌbə]
n. 橡胶，橡皮，橡胶制品
mental ['mentl]
adj. 精神的，脑力的，精神错乱的
n. 精
waist [weist]
n. 腰，腰部
explosion [iks'pləuʒən]
n. 爆炸，爆发，激增
ceiling ['si:liŋ]
n. 天花板，上限
merely ['miəli]
adv. 仅仅，只不过
grace [greis]
n. 优美，优雅，恩惠
vt. 使荣耀，使优美
gravity ['græviti]
n. 重力，严重，庄重，严肃
gravely
adv. 严肃地；严峻地；沉重地；严重地
beat [bi:t]
v. 打败，战胜，打，敲打，跳动
n. 敲打，
mask [mɑ:sk]
n. 面具，面罩，伪装
gauge [geidʒ]
n. 测量标准，轨距，口径，直径，测量仪器
signal ['signl]
n. 信号，标志
v. (发信号)通知、表示<
comment ['kɔment]
n. 注释，评论; 闲话
v. 注释，评论
ceiling ['si:liŋ]
n. 天花板，上限
gravity ['græviti]
n. 重力，严重，庄重，严肃
obvious ['ɔbviəs]
adj. 明显的，显然的
suspended
adj. 悬浮的；暂停的，缓期的（宣判）
intention [in'tenʃən]
n. 意图，意向，目的
kitchen ['kitʃin]
n. 厨房，(全套)炊具，灶间
参考资料：
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第二册:U8B Harrison Bergeron(1)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第二册:U8B Harrison Bergeron(2)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第二册:U8B Harrison Bergeron(3)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第二册:U8B Harrison Bergeron(4)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第二册:U8B Harrison Bergeron(5)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第二册:U8B Harrison Bergeron(6)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
- http://www.kekenet.com/daxue/201704/49986shtml
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第二册:U8B Harrison Bergeron(9)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
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