Chapter 30 They rented a car in Los Angeles from one of the places that rents out cars that other people have thrown away. Getting it to go round corners is a bit of a problem, said the guy behind the sunglasses as he handed them the keys, sometimes it’s simpler just to get out and find a car that’s going in that direction. They stayed for one night in a hotel on Sunset Boulevard which someone had told them they would enjoy being puzzled by. Everyone there is either English or odd or both. They’ve got a swimming pool where you can go and watch English rock stars reading Language, Truth and Logic for the photographers. It was true. There was one and that was exactly what he was doing. The garage attendant didn’t think much of their car, but that was fine because they didn’t either. Late in the evening they drove through the Hollywood hills along Mulholland Drive and stopped to look out first over the dazzling sea of floating light that is Los Angeles, and later stopped to look across the dazzling sea of floating light that is the San Fernando Valley. They agreed that the sense of dazzle stopped immediately at the back of their eyes and didn’t touch any other part of them and came away strangely unsatisfied by the spectacle. As dramatic seas of light went, it was fine, but light is meant to illuminate something, and having driven through what this particularly dramatic sea of light was illuminating they didn’t think much of it. They slept late and restlessly and awoke at lunchtime when it was stupidly hot. They drove out along the freeway to Santa Monica for their first look at the Pacific Ocean, the ocean which Wonko the Sane spent all his days and a good deal of his nights looking at. Someone told me, said Fenchurch, that they once overheard two old ladies on this beach, doing what we’re doing, looking at the Pacific Ocean for the first time in their lives. And apparently, after a long pause, one of them said to the other, “You know, it’s not as big as I expected.” Their mood lifted further as the sun began to move down the western half of the sky, and by the time they were back in their rattling car and driving towards a sunset that no one of any sensibility would dream of building a city like Los Angeles on front of, they were suddenly feeling astonishingly and irrationally happy and didn’t even mind that the terrible old car radio would only play two stations, and those simultaneously. So what, they were both playing good rock and roll. I know he will be able to help us, said Fenchurch determinedly. I know he will. What’s his name again, that he likes to be called? Wonko the Sane. I know that he will be able to help us. Arthur wondered if he would and hoped that he would, and hoped that what Fenchurch had lost could be found here, on this Earth, whatever this Earth might prove to be. He hoped, as he had hoped continually and fervently since the time they had talked together on the banks of the Serpentine, that he would not be called upon to try to remember something that he had very firmly and deliberately buried in the furthest recesses of his memory, where he hoped it would cease to nag at him. In Santa Barbara they stopped at a fish restaurant in what seemed to be a converted warehouse. Fenchurch had red mullet and said it was delicious. Arthur had a swordfish steak and said it made him angry. He grabbed a passing waitress by the arm and berated her. Why’s this fish so bloody good? he demanded, angrily. Please excuse my friend, said Fenchurch to the startled waitress. I think he’s having a nice day at last. 第30章 他们在洛杉矶的一架出租别人扔掉的车的地方租了一辆车。 “开这个车拐弯的时候有一点问题，”那个带着太阳镜的伙计把钥匙递给他们的时候说，“有时候，你下车另找一辆去那个方向的车会更简单点。” 他们在日落大道的一家旅馆过了一夜，有人曾经告诉他们说他们会喜欢被这里给搞糊涂的。 “那里的每个人都或者是英国人，或者很古怪，或者两样都占了。那儿有个游泳池，你可以去看到英国摇滚歌星在读《给摄影师看的语言、真相与逻辑》。” 这是真的。那里真有一个，而且确实在这么干。 车库管理员觉得他们的车不怎么样，不过没关系，因为他们也怎么想。 那天晚上晚点时候他们开车沿着穆赫兰道穿过好莱坞的山丘，先停下来向外看洛杉矶令人目眩的灯光的海洋，然后停下来纵观圣费尔南多谷令人目眩的灯光的海洋。他们一致认为目眩的感觉一到了他们眼睛后面就停在那里，没有触及其他任何部分，而后带着对那种景象的奇异的不满离开了。炫目的灯光的海洋消失了，这挺好的，但是灯光应该照亮什么东西，驾车穿过的这片令人目眩的灯光的海洋正照亮着什么东西，他们没怎么去想。 他们睡得很晚，而且睡得不好，到午饭时间才醒来，正热的见了鬼。 他们开车出去，沿着高速公路到圣塔摩尼加，第一次去看看太平洋，独醒客所有的白天和大部分夜晚都花在看这个大洋上面了。 “有人告诉我说，”芬切琪说，“他们有一次无意中在这个海滩上听到两个老太太的对话，她们当时就像我们现在这样，有生以来第一次看到太平洋。沉默了一会儿之后，一个对另一个说：‘你瞧，没有我想的那么大嘛。’” 太阳移到西半边天空的时候他们的情绪更高了，他们回到丁零当啷响的汽车上，向着落日驶去，任何一个有一点点审美观的人即使在做梦的时候都不会想到要在这样的落日前修建一个洛杉矶这样的城市。这个时候他们忽然感到惊人的、无理性的开心，甚至都不在乎那个老掉牙的汽车收音机只能放两个台，而且是同时放。有什么呢，两个台放的都是挺好的摇滚乐。 “我知道他能给我们帮上忙，”芬切琪坚定地说，“我知道他能。他叫什么来着，就是他喜欢别人那么叫他的？” “独醒客。” “我知道他能给我们帮上忙。” 阿瑟不知道他能不能，他希望能，他希望芬切琪丢失的东西可以在这里，在这个地球上找回来，无论这个地球到底可能是什么东西。 他希望，自从他们在蛇纹石堤岸旁边谈论以来他一直都热切地希望，没有人会再要他去回忆起他非常小心而坚定地埋藏在记忆最深处的一些东西，他希望那些东西不要再骚扰他。 他们在圣巴巴拉的一家看起来像是仓库改建的鱼类为主食的餐馆停下来。 芬切琪吃了红鲚，并且说很好吃。 阿瑟吃了一块旗鱼排，并且说很生气。 他拽住了一个路过的女侍应生的胳膊，斥责她。 “这个鱼怎么能这么好吃的要命的？”他生气地问。 “请原谅我的朋友，”芬切琪对目瞪口呆的侍应生说，“我想他今天终于过了个好日子。”
