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【正文】 inery closed the bottom door. Only then did the ladder, wound onto a reel in the airlock, let him go. Only then did Billy39。s brain start working again. There were two peepholes inside the airlockwith yellow eyes pressed to them. There was a speaker on the wall. The Tralfamadorians had no voice boxes. They municated telepathicary. They were able to talk to Billy by means of a puter and a sort of electric an which made every Earthling speech sound. 39。Wele aboard, Mr. Pilgrim,39。 said the loudspeaker. 39。Any questions?39。 Billy licked his lips, thought a while, inquired at last: 39。Why me? 39。 That is a very Earthling question to ask, Mr. Pilgrim. Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?39。 39。Yes.39。 Billy in fact, had a paperweight in his office which was a blob of polished amber with three ladybugs embedded in it. 39。Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why.39。 They introduced an anesthetic into Billy39。s atmosphere now, put him to sleep. They carded him to a cabin where he was strapped to a yellow BarcaLounger which they had stolen from a Sears amp。 Roebuck warehouse. The hold of the saucer was crammed with other stolen merchandise, which would be used to furnish Billy39。s artificial habitat in a zoo on Tralfamadore. The terrific acceleration of the saucer as it left Earth twisted Billy39。s slumbering body, distorted his face, dislodged him m time, sent him back to the war. When he regained consciousness, he wasn39。t on the flying saucer. He was in a boxcar crossing Germany again. Some people were rising from the floor of the car, and others were lying down. Billy planned to He down, too. It would be lov ely to sleep. It was black in the car, and black outside the car, which seemed to be about two miles an hour. The car never seemed to go any faster than that. It was a long time between clicks, between joints in the track. There would be a click, and then a year would go by, and then there would be another click The train often stopped to let really important trains bawl and hurtle by. Another thing it did was stop on sidings near pris ons, leaving a few cars there. It was creeping across all of Germany, growing shorter all the time. And Billy let himself down oh so gradually now, hanging onto the diagonal crossbrace in the er in order to make himself seem nearly weightless to those he was joining on the floor. He knew it was important that he made himself nearly ghostlike when lying down. He had fotten why, but a reminder soon came. 39。Pilgrim,39。 said a person he was about to nestle with, 39。is that you?39。 Billy didn39。t say anything, but nestled very politely, closed his eyes. 39。God damn it39。 said the person. 39。That is you, isn39。t it?39。 He sat up and explored Billy rudely with his hands. 39。It39。s you, all right. Get the hell out of here.39。 Now Billy sat up, toowretched, close to tears. 39。Get out of here! I want to sleep!39。 39。Shut up,39。 said somebody else. 39。I39。ll shut up when Pilgrim gets away from here.39。 So Billy stood up again, clung to the crossbrace. 39。Where can I sleep?39。 he asked quietly. 39。Not with me.39。 39。Not with me, you son of a bitch,39。 said somebody else. 39。You yell. You kick.39。 39。I do?39。 You39。re God damn right you do. And whimper.39。 39。I do?39。 39。Keep the hell away from here., Pilgrim.39。 And now there was an acrimonious madrigal, with parts sung in all quarters of the car. Nearly everybody seemingly, had an atrocity story of something Billy Pilgrim had done to him in his sleep. Everybody told Billy Pilgrim to keep the hell away. So Billy Pilgrim had to sleep standing up, or not sleep at all. And food had stopped ing in through the ventilators, and the days and nights were colder all the time. On the eighth day, the fortyyearold hobo said to Billy, 39。This ain39。t bad. I can be fortable anywhere.39。 39。You can?39。 said Billy. On the ninth day, the hobo died. So it goes. His last words were, 39。You think this is bad? This ain39。t bad.39。 There was something about death and the ninth day. There was a death on the ninth day in the car ahead of Billy39。s too. Roland Weary diedof gangrene that had started in his mangled feet. So it goes. Weary, in his nearly continuous delirium, told again and again of the Three Musketeers, acknowledged that he was dying, gave many messages to be delivered to his family in Pittsburgh. Above all, he wanted to be avenged, so he said again and again the name of the person who had killed him. Everyone on the car learned the lesson well. very morning, and polish up the old fashioned spoons, the fat silver teapot, and the glasses till they shone. Then she must dust the room, and what a trying job that was. Not a speck escaped Aun t March39。s eye, and all the furniture had claw legs and much carving, which was never dusted to suit. Then Polly had to be fed, the lap dog bed, and a dozen trips upstairs and down to get things or deliver orders, for the old lady was very lame and seldom left her big chair. After these tiresome labors, she must do her lessons, which was a daily trial of every virtue she possessed. Then she was allowed one hou r for exercise or play, and didn39。t she enjoy it? Laurie came every day, and wheedled Aunt March till Amy was allowed to go out with him, when they walked and rode and had cap ital times. After dinner, she had to read aloud, and sit still while the old lady slept, which she usually did for an hour, as she dropped off over the first page. Then patchwork or towels appeared, and Amy sewed with outward meekness and inward rebellion till dusk, when she was allowed to amuse herself as she liked till teatime. The evenings were the wo