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the jacket (the star-rover)-第42章

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abruptly concluding a cross…examination after having extracted a

fatal admission from a witness。



It was impossible to convince Oppenheimer of my sincerity。  He

insisted that I was making it up as I went along; although he

applauded what he called my 〃to…be…continued…in…our…next;〃 and; at

the times they were resting me up from the jacket; was continually

begging and urging me to run off a few more chapters。



〃Now; professor; cut out that high…brow stuff;〃 he would interrupt

Ed Morrell's and my metaphysical discussions; 〃and tell us more

about the ki…sang and the cunies。  And; say; while you're about it;

tell us what happened to the Lady Om when that rough…neck husband of

hers choked the old geezer and croaked。〃



How often have I said that form perishes。  Let me repeat。  Form

perishes。  Matter has no memory。  Spirit only remembers; as here; in

prison cells; after the centuries; knowledge of the Lady Om and

Chong Mong…ju persisted in my mind; was conveyed by me into Jake

Oppenheimer's mind; and by him was reconveyed into my mind in the

argot and jargon of the West。  And now I have conveyed it into your

mind; my reader。  Try to eliminate it from your mind。  You cannot。

As long as you live what I have told will tenant your mind。  Mind?

There is nothing permanent but mind。  Matter fluxes; crystallizes;

and fluxes again; and forms are never repeated。  Forms disintegrate

into the eternal nothingness from which there is no return。  Form is

apparitional and passes; as passed the physical forms of the Lady Om

and Chong Mong…ju。  But the memory of them remains; shall always

remain as long as spirit endures; and spirit is indestructible。



〃One thing sticks out as big as a house;〃 was Oppenheimer's final

criticism of my Adam Strang adventure。  〃And that is that you've

done more hanging around Chinatown dumps and hop…joints than was

good for a respectable college professor。  Evil communications; you

know。  I guess that's what brought you here。〃



Before I return to my adventures I am compelled to tell one

remarkable incident that occurred in solitary。  It is remarkable in

two ways。  It shows the astounding mental power of that child of the

gutters; Jake Oppenheimer; and it is in itself convincing proof of

the verity of my experiences when in the jacket coma。



〃Say; professor;〃 Oppenheimer tapped to me one day。  〃When you was

spieling that Adam Strang yarn; I remember you mentioned playing

chess with that royal souse of an emperor's brother。  Now is that

chess like our kind of chess?〃



Of course I had to reply that I did not know; that I did not

remember the details after I returned to my normal state。  And of

course he laughed good…naturedly at what he called my foolery。  Yet

I could distinctly remember that in my Adam Strang adventure I had

frequently played chess。  The trouble was that whenever I came back

to consciousness in solitary; unessential and intricate details

faded from my memory。



It must be remembered that for convenience I have assembled my

intermittent and repetitional jacket experiences into coherent and

consecutive narratives。  I never knew in advance where my journeys

in time would take me。  For instance; I have a score of different

times returned to Jesse Fancher in the wagon…circle at Mountain

Meadows。  In a single ten…days' bout in the jacket I have gone back

and back; from life to life; and often skipping whole series of

lives that at other times I have covered; back to prehistoric time;

and back of that to days ere civilization began。



So I resolved; on my next return from Adam Strang's experiences;

whenever it might be; that I should; immediately; I on resuming

consciousness; concentrate upon what visions and memories。  I had

brought back of chess playing。  As luck would have it; I had to

endure Oppenheimer's chaffing for a full month ere it happened。  And

then; no sooner out of jacket and circulation restored; than I

started knuckle…rapping the information。



Further; I taught Oppenheimer the chess Adam Strang had played in

Cho…Sen centuries agone。  It was different from Western chess; and

yet could not but be fundamentally the same; tracing back to a

common origin; probably India。  In place of our sixty…four squares

there are eighty…one squares。  We have eight pawns on a side; they

have nine; and though limited similarly; the principle of moving is

different。



Also; in the Cho…Sen game; there are twenty pieces and pawns against

our sixteen; and they are arrayed in three rows instead of two。

Thus; the nine pawns are in the front row; in the middle row are two

pieces resembling our castles; and in the back row; midway; stands

the king; flanked in order on either side by 〃gold money;〃 〃silver

money;〃 〃knight;〃 and 〃spear。〃  It will be observed that in the Cho…

Sen game there is no queen。  A further radical variation is that a

captured piece or pawn is not removed from the board。  It becomes

the property of the captor and is thereafter played by him。



Well; I taught Oppenheimer this gamea far more difficult

achievement than our own game; as will be admitted; when the

capturing and recapturing and continued playing of pawns and pieces

is considered。  Solitary is not heated。  It would be a wickedness to

ease a convict from any spite of the elements。  And many a dreary

day of biting cold did Oppenheimer and I forget that and the

following winter in the absorption of Cho…Sen chess。



But there was no convincing him that I had in truth brought this

game back to San Quentin across the centuries。  He insisted that I

had read about it somewhere; and; though I had forgotten the

reading; the stuff of the reading was nevertheless in the content of

my mind; ripe to be brought out in any pipe…dream。  Thus he turned

the tenets and jargon of psychology back on me。



〃What's to prevent your inventing it right here in solitary?〃 was

his next hypothesis。  〃Didn't Ed invent the knuckle…talk?  And ain't

you and me improving on it right along?  I got you; bo。  You

invented it。  Say; get it patented。  I remember when I was night…

messenger some guy invented a fool thing called Pigs in Clover and

made millions out of it。〃



〃There's no patenting this;〃 I replied。  〃Doubtlessly the Asiatics

have been playing it for thousands of years。  Won't you believe me

when I tell you I didn't invent it?〃



〃Then you must have read about it; or seen the Chinks playing it in

some of those hop…joints you was always hanging around;〃 was his

last word。



But I have a last word。  There is a Japanese murderer here in

Folsomor was; for he was executed last week。  I talked the matter

over with him; and the game Adam Strang played; and which I taught

Oppenheimer; proved quite similar to the Japanese game。  They are

far more alike than is either of them like the Western game。







CHAPTER XVII







You; my reader; will remember; far back at the beginning of this

narrative; how; when a little lad on the Minnesota farm; I looked at

the photographs of the Holy Land and recognized places and pointed

out changes in places。  Also you will remember; as I described the

scene I had witnessed of the healing of the lepers; I told the

missionary that I was a big man with a big sword; astride a horse

and looking on。



That childhood incident was merely a trailing cloud of glory; as

Wordsworth puts it。  Not in entire forgetfulness had I; little

Darrell Standing; come into the world。  But those memories of other

times and places that glimmered up to the surface of my child

consciousness soon failed and faded。  In truth; as is the way with

all children; the shades of the prison…house closed about me; and I

remembered my mighty past no more。  Every man born of woman has a

past mighty as mine。  Very few men born of women have been fortunate

enough to suffer years of solitary and strait…jacketing。  That was

my good fortune。  I was enabled to remember once again; and to

remember; among other things; the time when I sat astride a horse

and beheld the lepers healed。



My name was Ragnar Lodbrog。  I was in truth a large man。  I stood

half a head above the Romans of my legion。  But that was later;

after the time of my journey from Alexandria to Jerusalem; that I

came to command a legion。  It was a crowded life; that。  Books and

books; and years of writing could not record it all。  So I shall

briefen and no more than hint at the beginnings of it。



Now all is clear and sharp save the very beginning。  I never knew my

mother。  I was told that I was tempest…born; on a beaked ship in the

Northern Sea; of a captured woman; after a sea fight and a sack of a

coastal stronghold。  I never heard the name of my mother。  She died

at the height of the tempest。  She was of the North Danes; so old

Lingaard told me。  He told me much that I was too young to remember;

yet little could he tell。  A sea fight and a sack; battle and

plunde
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