Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (11/11/1922-4/11/2007) was a 20th century American writer.^[2] His works such as Cat's Cradle (1963), Slaughterhouse-Five (1969) and Breakfast of Champions (1973) blend satire, gallows humor and science fiction. As a citizen he was a lifelong supporter of the American Civil Liberties Union and a critical liberal intellectual.^[3] He was known for his humanist beliefs and was honorary president of the American Humanist Association.^[4]

 

库尔特·冯内古特（又譯馮內果,冯尼格）（Kurt Vonnegut，Jr.，1922年11月11日－2007年4月11日），美国作家，黑色幽默文学代表人物之一。

这是库特‧冯内果（Kurt Vonnegut Jr.）出版於1961年的著名短篇故事，以负面乌托邦的极端主题来讽刺平等主义。

 

 

 

Harrison Bergeron By 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 were burdened with sash weights and bags of birdshot, and their faces were masked, so that no one, seeing a free and graceful gesture or a pretty face, would feel like something the cat drug in. George was toying with the vague notion 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 out 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 ball peen 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."

"Um," said George.

"Only, if I was Handicapper General, you know what I would do?" said Hazel. Hazel, as a matter of fact, bore a strong resemblance to 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."

---------------------------------------------------------4.27.2012完----------------------------------------------------------------

"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 than 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 of the eight ballerinas had collapsed to the studio floor, were holding their temples.

"All of a sudden you look so tired," said Hazel. "Why don't you stretch out on the sofa, so you can rest your handicap bag on the pillows, honeybunch?" She was referring to the forty-seven pounds of birdshot in a canvas bag, which was padlocked 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 been so tired lately-kind of wore 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 a few of them lead balls. Just a few."

"Two years in prison and two thousand dollars fine for every ball 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, "and then other people 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.

"Reckon 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.

----------------------------------------------------2012.5.4 完-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The television program was suddenly interrupted for a news bulletin. It wasn't clear at first as to what the bulletin was about, since the announcer, like all announcers, had a serious speech impediment. 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 of the announcer, "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 a very unfair voice for a woman to use. Her voice was a warm, luminous, timeless melody. "Excuse me-" she said, and she began again, making her voice absolutely uncompetitive.

"Harrison Bergeron, age fourteen," she said in a grackle squawk, "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 under-handicapped, 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 against a background calibrated in feet and inches. He was exactly seven feet tall.

--------------------------------------------------------------2012.5.11 完---------------------------------------------------------

The rest of Harrison's appearance was Halloween and hardware. Nobody had ever born heavier handicaps. He had outgrown hindrances faster than the H-G men could think them up. 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 hanging headaches besides.

Scrap metal was hung all over him. Ordinarily, there was a certain symmetry, a military neatness to the handicaps issued to strong people, but Harrison looked like a walking junkyard. In the race of life, Harrison carried three hundred pounds.

And to offset 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 at snaggle-tooth random.

"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 barking cries of consternation 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 blasted from his mind instantly by the sound of an automobile collision in his head.

When George could open his eyes again, the photograph of Harrison was gone. A living, breathing Harrison filled the screen.

Clanking, clownish, and huge, Harrison stood - in the center of the studio. The knob of the uprooted studio door was still in his hand. Ballerinas, technicians, musicians, and announcers cowered on their knees before him, expecting to die.

"I am the Emperor!" cried Harrison. "Do you hear? I am the Emperor! Everybody must do what I say at once!" He stamped his foot and the studio shook.

"Even as I stand here" he bellowed, "crippled, hobbled, sickened - I am a greater ruler than any man who ever lived! Now watch me become what I can become!"

Harrison tore the straps of his handicap harness like wet tissue paper, tore straps guaranteed to support five thousand pounds.

Harrison's scrap-iron handicaps crashed to the floor.

Harrison thrust his thumbs under the bar of the padlock that secured his head harness. The bar snapped like celery. Harrison smashed his headphones and spectacles against the wall.

He flung away his rubber-ball nose, revealed a man that would have awed Thor, the god of thunder.

---------------------------------------------------------2012.5.18 完---------------------------------------------------------------

"I shall now select my Empress!" he said, looking down on the cowering people. "Let the first woman who dares rise to her feet claim her mate and her throne!"

A moment passed, and then a ballerina arose, swaying like a willow.

Harrison plucked the mental handicap from her ear, snapped off her physical handicaps with marvelous delicacy. 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 scrambled back into their chairs, and Harrison stripped them of 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 snatched 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 synchronizing their heartbeats 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.

They leaped like deer on the moon.

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, neutraling 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.

------------------------------------------------------2012.6.3 完------------------------------------------------

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 forget," 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 riveting 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."

------------------------------------------------2012.6.8 完----------------------------------------------

在2081年，所有人都终於平等了。但他们不止是在上帝和法律面前平等而已，而是在任何地方都一样。没有人比任何人更聪明、比任何人更好看，也没有人比任何人更强壮或更敏捷。这些平等都得感谢宪法第211、第212和第213修正法案，以及美国缺陷裁定将军（H-G）手下豪不懈怠而警觉的探员们。

当然，有些生活还是不太对劲。比如说，四月仍因不是春季而继续教人抓狂；同时，H-G探员也正是在这个湿冷的月份，把乔治和海瑟的十四岁儿子哈里森带走。

那是一场悲剧没错，但乔治和海瑟却不能去想太多。海瑟拥有相当普通的智力，这表示她除了短时间外没办法想什麼东西；而乔治，由於智力比正常人高些，因此耳朵里有个小型心智残障接收器。他依法必须时常戴著——它会接收一个政府电台发出的讯号。大概每二十秒左右，电台就会发出某种尖锐声响，好让乔治这种人没办法用脑袋做出不公平的优势。

乔治和海瑟正在看电视。海瑟脸颊上流著泪，但她早就忘了流泪的原因。

电视萤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逃窜。

「她们跳舞跳得真不错，」海瑟说。

「啥？」乔治说。

「跳舞——很不错，」海瑟说。

「是啊，」乔治说。他试著思考那群芭蕾舞者。他们其实跳得一点都不好——反正也不会比任何人好到哪去。她们身上吊著重物和成袋的鸟弹（<i>注：打猎使用的一种铅制散弹</i>），脸被面罩遮住，所以没有人能表现出自由而优雅的姿势，或是那张美丽的脸庞，反而看来像被猫抓过的一样。乔治此时思索著一个模糊的想法：也许芭蕾舞者不该穿戴残障物。但他还没来得及多想，另一道声音就轰然粉粹了脑中那个念头。

乔治畏缩了一下。八名芭蕾舞者里的两人也是。

海瑟看见他畏缩。既然身上没有残障物，她问乔治听到的是什麼声音。

「听起来像有人用特大榔头敲碎牛奶瓶，」乔治说。

「我想那一定很有趣，可以听到那麼多不同的声音，」海瑟说，有点忌妒。「他们什麼都想好了。」

「呃……」乔治说。

「如果我是缺陷裁定将军，你知道我要怎麼做吗？」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‧葛兰普尔斯的女子。「如果我是黛安娜‧穆恩‧葛兰普尔斯，」海瑟说。「我会在星期天敲钟——就只是敲钟。有点像宗教仪式。」

「如果只有敲钟，那我可以想像，」乔治说。

「嗯——也许得敲得很大声，」海瑟说。「我想这样就能当个好的缺陷裁定将军。」

「跟大家一样好，」乔治说。

「还有谁比我更了解正常是什麼样？」海瑟说。

「是啊，」乔治说。他开始些微地想起自己不正常的儿子正关在牢里，想起哈里森，但马上随二十一响枪声猛然打进他的脑袋而止住。

「老天！」海瑟说。「真好玩，不是吗？」

这件「真好玩」的事情让乔治面色发白、全身颤抖，眼泪从红肿的眼睛边缘流出。八位芭蕾舞者中的两人也瘫倒在摄影棚地上，按著她们的太阳穴。

「你突然看起来好累，」海瑟说。「你干麻不去沙发休息一下，把残障包搁在枕头上，亲爱的。」她是指挂在乔治脖子上，那四十七磅、装满鸟弹的帆布袋。「你尽管拿下来休息，」她说。「我不会在乎你暂时跟我不平等。」

乔治用手量了量残障包的重量。「没关系，」他说。「我已经不太注意到它了。就像我身上的一部分一样。」

「你最近都好累——好像被累坏了，」海瑟说。「我们总可以在袋子底下打个小洞，乾脆拿掉几颗鸟弹。就几颗而已嘛。」

「每拿出一颗，我就得做两年牢，外加两千元罚款，」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——不要被别人看见就好了。你只是把它们搁在附近。」

「但如果我试著这样做，」乔治说。「其他人也会，然后我们很快就会回到黑暗时代，所有人跟所有人竞争。你不喜欢这样的，不是吗？」

「我很讨厌这样，」海瑟说。

「那就对啦，」乔治说。「只要人们一开始逃避法律，你想社会会变成什麼情况？」

要是海瑟有办法自己想出答案，乔治大可不必帮她想一个。一阵警报在他脑中大作。

「我想它会四分五裂，」海瑟说。

「什麼会四分五裂？」乔治茫然地说。

「社会啊，」海瑟不太确定地说。「你刚才讲的不是这个吗？」

「大概吧，」乔治说。

电视节目突然被新闻打断了。一开始还看不出来是新闻，因为广播员跟其他广播员一样有著严重的语言障碍。半分钟的时间里，极度兴奋的广播员尝试著说：「各位先生女士们——」

他终於放弃，把新闻稿交给一个芭蕾舞者朗读。

「没错——」海瑟对广播员说。「他尽力了。这很重要，因为他尽可能用上帝赐给他的能力表现。他应该因这麼努力而被好好升迁的。」

「各位先生女士们，」芭蕾舞者说，读著新闻稿。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就跟两百磅男子穿戴的一样大。

接著她马上替自己的嗓音致歉，因为她的声音对女人来说太不公平了，既温和、明亮又不受时间拘束的悦耳。「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‧布吉朗，十四岁，」她用粗厉的嘎嘎声说。「刚从监狱逃出——他因为涉嫌策划推翻政府而被监禁。他很聪明、强壮，已经穿戴著残障物，而且被认定十分危险。」

一张警察拍摄的哈里森‧布吉朗照片出现在萤幕上——先是上下颠倒，然后左右颠倒，再上下颠倒，最后才放正。照片里的哈里森靠著细分为呎和吋的身高量尺，可清楚地看出他正好七呎高。

哈里森的其余外表简直是万圣节和五金行。没有人曾穿过这麼重的残障物；甚至比H-G探员设定的标准还高。他耳朵上戴著的不是残障接收器，而是一对特大号的耳机，另外还有一对厚厚的波浪眼镜。眼镜不只会让他半瞎，同时还能让他得到严重的头痛。

他身上挂满金属。一般来说，强壮的人们身上的残障物都会有些对称性，带些军事化的简洁性，但哈里森看来简直像是个活动废物场。他身上的额外重量重达三百磅。

而为了抵销他的英俊长相，H-G探员要他无时无刻戴著一个红色橡胶鼻，剪掉所有眉毛，然后在洁白的牙齿中随机盖上黑色暴牙。

「如果你看见这位男孩，」芭蕾舞者说。「不要——我重复，绝不要——尝试和他理论。」

后面传来一扇门从铰链扯下来的巨响。

电视机传出惊骇的尖叫和大叫。萤幕上的哈里森‧布吉朗照片不断跳动，彷佛在跟著地震起舞一样。

乔治‧布吉朗无误地辨认出地震，因为他本来就该认得的——他自己的家已经有无数次像这样跳动。「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撞出了脑袋。

当乔治再次挣开眼睛时，哈里森的照片已经不见了。一个活生生、在呼吸的哈里森占满整个萤幕。

叮当作响、像小丑一般而高大的哈里森站在摄影棚中央，手上仍抓著扯下来的门与门把。他四周的芭蕾舞者、技师、乐师和广播员都蜷缩在地上，以为自己死定了。

「我是皇帝！」哈里森大吼。「你们听到了吗？我是皇帝！所有人必须服从我说的话！」他跺脚，而整个摄影棚轰然摇晃。

「即使我站在这里——」他怒吼著。「被弄残废、被弄跛、被丑化——我还是比任何人更伟大的统治者！现在看看我可以变成什麼样！」

哈里森扯掉残障物的安全带，就像扯掉湿纸巾一样，扯下那些能绑住五千磅重量的带子。

接著哈里森的废金属残障物摔在地上。

哈里森把大拇指伸进头上锁住安全带的挂锁底下。挂锁像芹菜一样断裂。哈里森把耳机和眼镜也给摔到墙上。

他扯下橡皮球鼻子，露出一张足以媲美索尔——北欧雷霆之神的脸庞。

「现在我要挑选我的皇后！」他说，低头看著蜷缩的人们。「第一个敢站起来的女子就能得到她的丈夫和皇座！」

一段时间过去，接著有一位芭蕾舞者站起来，像柳树一般摇晃著。

哈里森拔出她耳中的残障接收器，以惊人的灵巧扯下她身上的残障物。最后，他拉下她的面罩。

她美得令人窒息。

「现在，」哈里森说，挽著她的手。「我们该教教这些人跳舞的真正意义。音乐！」他命令道。

乐师连滚带爬坐回椅子上，而哈里森也扯掉了他们身上的残障物。「把你们最好的能力演奏出来，」他告诉他们。「我就会赏你们当男爵、公觉和伯爵。」

音乐开始了。一开始它十分正常——廉价、愚蠢而虚假的乐音。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，一边唱著他希望演奏的音乐。他把他们摔回座位上。

音乐再次开始，这次有了显著的进步。

哈里森和他的皇后仅听了一下下——严肃地听著，彷佛将他们的心跳与音乐相连。

他们踮起脚尖。

咍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无重量。接著，在一阵欢愉和喜悦中，他们飘到了空中！

不只是地面的定律被抛弃了，甚至连重力与动作的定律也已不存在。

他们旋转、回绕、盘旋、飞舞、跳跃、嬉戏，并且旋转著。

他们像月球上的鹿一般跳跃著。

摄影棚的天花板有三十呎高，但两位舞者每跳一次就更能接近天花板。他们很显然想亲吻天花板。

而他们这麼做了。

而接著，藉由爱与无瑕的意志抵销重力，他们继续在天花板下几英吋处盘旋，并与对方深深相吻，吻了好久、好久、好久。

就在此时，黛安娜‧穆恩‧葛兰普尔斯，也就是缺陷裁定将军，拿著一把十号口径的双管散弹枪闯进摄影棚。

她开火两次，而皇帝和皇后在撞上地板前就死了。

黛安娜‧穆恩‧葛兰普尔斯再次上膛。她把枪指著乐师，告诉他们有十秒钟的时间把残障物戴回去。

这时布吉朗家的电视映像管也烧掉了。

海瑟转头，想对乔治评论电视烧坏的事，不过乔治早已走到厨房去开一罐啤酒。

乔治带著啤酒回来，并在残障信号於脑中响起时停了一下。他再次坐下。「你在哭吗？」他问海瑟。

「对啊，」海瑟说。

「是什麼？」他说。

「我忘了，」她说。「电视上有某件很糟的事。」

「那是什麼？」

「我全搞混了，」海瑟说。

「把糟糕事忘了吧，」乔治说。

「我每次都会的，」海瑟说。

「这才是我的女孩，」乔治说。他畏缩了一下，因为脑中响起钉枪的枪响。

「老天——我想那声音一定很好玩，」海瑟说。

「你可以再说一次（<i>注：意思是「你说得很对」</i>），」乔治说。

「老天——」海瑟说。「我想那声音一定很好玩。」