Button, Button

Richard Matheson

The package was lying by the front door—a cube-shaped carton sealed with tape. Norma picked it up, unlocked the door, and went into the apartment. It was just getting dark.

After she put the lamb chops in the broiler, she sat down to open the package.

Inside the carton was a push-button unit fastened to a small wooden box. A glass dome covered the button. Norma tried to lift it off, but it was locked in place. She turned the unit over and saw a piece of paper taped to the bottom of the box: "Mr. Steward will call on you at 8:00 p.m."

Norma put the button unit on the couch, and went back into the kitchen to make the salad.

The doorbell rang at eight o'clock. "I'll get it," Norma called from the kitchen. Arthur was in the living room, reading.

A small man. He removed his hat as Norma opened the door.

"Mrs. Lewis?" he inquired politely.

"Yes?"

"I'm Mr. Steward."

"Oh, yes." Norma repressed a smile. She was sure now that it was a sales pitch.

"May I come in?" asked Mr. Steward.

"I'm rather busy," Norma said. "I'll get your whatchamacallit, though." She started to turn.

"Don't you want to know what it is?"

Norma turned back. "No, I don't think so."

"It could prove very valuable" he told her.

"Monetarily?" she challenged.

Mr. Steward nodded. "Monetarily," he said.

Norma frowned. She didn't like his attitude. "What are you trying to sell?" she asked.

"I'm not selling anything." He answered.

Arthur came out of the living room. "Something wrong?"

Mr. Steward introduced himself.

"Oh, the—" Arthur pointed toward the living room and smiled. "What is that gadget, anyway?"

"It won't take long to explain," replied Mr. Steward. "May I come in?"

Arthur looked at Norma. "Up to you," she said.

He hesitated. "Well, why not?" he said.

They went into the living room. Mr. Steward reached into his pocket and withdrew a small envelope. "Inside here is a key to the bell-unit dome," he said.

"What's it for?" asked Arthur.

"If you push the button, "Mr. Steward told him, "somewhere in the world someone will die. In return for this you will receive a payment of $50,000."

Norma stared at the small man.

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked him.

Mr. Steward looked surprised. "But I've just explained," he said.

"Is this a practical joke?" asked Arthur.

"Not at all. The offer is completely genuine."

"You aren't making sense," Arthur said. "I think you'd better leave."

Mr. Steward rose, "Of course."

"And take your button unit with you."

"Are you sure you wouldn't care to think about it?"

Arthur picked up the button unit and thrust it into Mr. Steward's hands. He walked into the hall and pulled open the door.

"I'll leave my card," said Mr. Steward. He placed it on the table. When he was gone, Arthur tore it in half and tossed the pieces onto the table. Norma was still sitting on the sofa. "What do you think it was?" she asked.

"I don't care to know," he answered.

She tried to smile.

Later that evening as they went into the bedroom, Norma picked up the subject, "You think it's a practical joke?"

"If it is, it's a sick one."

Norma sat on her bed and took off her slippers. "Maybe it's some kind of psychological research."

Arthur shrugged, "Could be."

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Arthur shook his head.

"Why?"

"Because it's immoral," he told her.

Norma slid beneath the covers. "Well, I think it's intriguing," she said.

Arthur turned off the lamp and leaned over to kiss her. "Good night," he said.

"Good night," she patted his back.

Norma closed her eyes. Fifty thousand dollars, she thought. In the morning, as she left the apartment, Norma saw the card halves on the table. Impulsively, she dropped them into her purse.

After lunch, she took them out and taped the edges together. "Why am I doing this?" she thought.

Just before five, she dialed the number.

"Good afternoon," said Mr. Steward's voice.

Norma cleared her throat. "This is Mrs. Lewis," she said.

"Yes, Mrs. Lewis," Mr. Steward sounded pleased.

"I'm curious."

"That's natural," Mr. Steward said.

"Not that I believe a word of what you told us."

"Oh, it's quite authentic," Mr. Steward answered.

"Well, whatever—" Norma swallowed. "When you said someone in the world would die, what do you mean?"

"Exactly that," he answered. "It could be anyone. All we guarantee is that you don't know them. And, of course, that you wouldn't have to watch them die."

"For $50,000." Norma said.

"That's correct."

She made a scoffing sound. "That's crazy."

"Nonetheless, that is the proposition," Mr. Steward said. "Would you like me to return the button unit?"

Norma stiffened. "Certainly not." She hung up angrily.

The package was lying by the front door; Norma saw it as she left the elevator. Well, of all the nerve, she thought. She glared at the carton as she unlocked the door. I just won't take it in, she thought. She went inside and started dinner.

Later, she went into the front hall. Opening the door, she picked up the package and carried it into the kitchen, and put it in a bottom cabinet. She'd throw it out in the morning.

"Maybe some eccentric millionaire is playing games with people," she said. Arthur looked up from his dinner. "I don't understand you."

Norma ate in silence. Suddenly, she put her fork down. "Suppose it's a genuine offer?" she said.

Arthur stared at her.

"All right, suppose it is, what would you like to do? Push the button and murder someone?"

Norma looked disgusted. "Murder!"

"How would you define it?"

"If you don't even know the person?" Norma said.

Arthur looked astounded. "Are you saying what I think you are?"

"If it's some old Chinese peasant ten thousand miles away? Some diseased native in the Congo?"

"What's the difference who you kill?" Arthur countered, "It's still murder."

"The point is," Norma broke in, "if it's someone you've never seen in your life and never will see, you still wouldn't push the button?"

Arthur stared at her, appalled. "You mean you would?"

"Fifty thousand dollars, Arthur."

"What has the amount—"

"Fifty thousand," Norma interrupted. "A chance to take that trip to Europe we've always talked about."

"Norma, no."

"A chance to buy that cottage."

"Norma, no!" His face was white.

She shrugged. "All right, take it easy," she said. "Why are you so upset? It's only talk."

She got up earlier than usual to make pancakes, eggs, and bacon for Arthur's breakfast.

"What's the occasion?" he asked with a smile.

"No occasion," Norma said. "I just wanted to show you I'm not—" she shrugged.

"Not what?"

"Selfish."

"Did I say you were?"

"Well"—she gestured vaguely—"last night. I think you—well, misunderstood me."

"In what way?" His voice was guarded.

"I think you felt" —she gestured again—"that I was only thinking of myself."

"Oh."

"Well, I wasn't. When I talked about the trip to Europe..."

"Norma, why are we getting so involved in this?"

"I'm not involved at all." She drew in a shaking breath. "I'm simply trying to indicate that—"

"What?"

"That I'd like for us to go to Europe. Like for us to have a cottage. Like for us to have a nicer apartment, nicer furniture, and nicer clothes."

"Norma, we will," he said.

"When?"

"Are you" —he seemed to draw back slightly— "are you really saying—"

"I'm saying that they're probably doing it for some research project!" she cut him off. "That they want to know what average people would do under such a circumstance! That they're just saying someone would die, in order to study reactions, see if there'd be guilt, anxiety, whatever! You don't really think they'd kill someone, do you?!''

Arthur didn't answer. She saw his hands trembling. After a while, he got up and left.

When he'd gone to work, Norma remained at the table, staring into her coffee. I'm going to be late, she thought. She shrugged. What difference did it make?

While she was stacking dishes, she turned abruptly, dried her hands, and took the package from the cabinet. Opening it, she set the button unit on the table. She stared at it for a long time before taking the key from its envelope and removing the glass dome. She stared at the button.

How ridiculous, she thought! All this furor over a meaningless button.

Reaching out, she pressed it down. For us, she thought angrily.

She shuddered. Was it happening? A chill of horror swept across her.

In a moment, it had passed. She made a contemptuous noise. Ridiculous, she thought, to get so worked up over nothing.

She threw the button unit into the wastebasket and hurried to dress for work.

She had just turned over the supper steaks when the telephone rang. She picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Lewis?"

"Yes?"

"This is the Lenox Hill Hospital."

She felt unreal as the voice informed her of the subway accident—the shoving crowd, Arthur pushed from the platform in front of the train. As she hung up, she remembered Arthur's life-insurance policy for $25,000 with double indemnity for—

"No!" She struggled to her feet and walked into the kitchen numbly.

Something cold pressed at her skull as she removed the button unit from the wastebasket. There were no nails or screws visible. She couldn't see how it was put together.

Abruptly, she began to smash it on the sink edge, pounding it harder and harder, until the wood split. She pulled the sides apart, cutting her fingers without noticing. There were no transistors in the box, no wires or tubes.

The box was empty.

She whirled with a gasp as the telephone rang. Stumbling into the living room, she picked up the receiver.

"Mrs. Lewis?" Mr. Steward asked.

It wasn't her voice shrieking so; it couldn't be. "You said I wouldn't know the one that died!"

"My dear lady," Mr. Steward said. "Do you really think you knew your husband?"

按钮，按钮

理查德·麦特森

包裹就放在前门旁边——一个用胶带封好的方形包装箱。诺玛把它捡起来，打开门锁，走进屋子。天色渐渐暗了下来。

把羊排放入烤箱后，诺玛坐下来打开盒子。

包装箱里装着一个固定在小木盒上的按钮装置。按钮上罩着一层圆玻璃。诺玛想把玻璃盖子打开，但它被牢牢地锁住了。她把装置翻了过来，看见粘在盒底的一张小纸条：“斯图沃德先生将在今晚8点登门拜访。”

诺玛把按钮装置放在沙发上，然后回到厨房去做沙拉。

晚上8点，门铃准时响了。“我去开门，”诺玛在厨房喊道。阿瑟此时正在起居室里看书。

进来的是一个矮个子男人。当诺玛打开门时他摘下了帽子。

“请问您是刘易斯太太吗？”他礼貌地询问道。

“你是……？”

“我是斯图沃德先生。”

“哦，想起来了。”诺玛忍住没有笑。她现在确定此人是在玩花招推销什么东西。

“我可以进来吗？”斯图沃德先生问道。

“我现在很忙，”诺玛说，“我马上去把那不知是什么玩意儿的东西给你拿来。”她转身要走。

“您难道不想知道那是什么吗？”

诺玛转过身来：“不，我不想知道。”

“它可是非常有价值的，”他告诉她说。

“很值钱吗？”她质问道。

斯图沃德先生点点头说：“很值钱。”

诺玛皱了皱眉。她不喜欢他的这种态度。“你想要推销什么？”她问。

“我什么东西也不卖，”他答道。

阿瑟从起居室里走了出来：“出了什么事？”

斯图沃德先生自我介绍了一下。

“哦，那个——”阿瑟指着起居室，笑着说，“那到底是什么玩意儿？”

“我来解释一下，不会占太长时间的，”斯图沃德先生说，“我可以进来吗？”

阿瑟看着诺玛。“你决定吧，”她说。

他犹豫了一下。“好吧，为什么不呢？”他说。

他们走进起居室。斯图沃德先生把手伸进口袋里，掏出了一个小信封：“这里面的钥匙能够打开钟形装置的玻璃罩。”

“它有什么用？”阿瑟问。

“如果您按这个钮，”斯图沃德先生告诉他，“这个世界上的某个地方就会有一个人死去。为此，您将会得到5万美元的报酬。”

诺玛盯着这个矮个子男人。

“你在说什么呀？”阿瑟问。

斯图沃德先生看起来很吃惊。“我刚刚不是向您解释过了吗？”他说。

“是一个恶作剧吗？”阿瑟问道。

“绝对不是。报酬是确定无疑的。”

“完全不知道你在说什么，”阿瑟说，“我想你最好离开。”

斯图沃德先生站了起来，“当然。”

“把你的按钮装置也带走。”

“你确定不用再考虑一下吗？”

阿瑟拿起按钮装置，把它塞进了斯图沃德先生的手里。他走到门厅，拉开了门。

“我把名片留在这儿，”斯图沃德先生说着把名片放到了桌子上。他走后，阿瑟把它撕成了两半，扔在桌子上。诺玛仍然坐在沙发上。“你认为那会是什么？”她问。

“我才不想知道呢，”他回答道。

她挤出一丝笑容。

当天晚上，当他们走进卧室时，诺玛又重新提起了这个话题：“你认为那是个恶作剧？”

“如果是，也是令人讨厌的恶作剧。”

诺玛坐在床上，脱下拖鞋：“或许是某种心理研究。”

阿瑟耸了耸肩说：“也许吧。”

“你不想知道？”

阿瑟摇了摇头。

“为什么？”

“因为那是不道德的，”他对她说。

诺玛钻进被窝。“我倒觉得挺有趣的，”她说。

阿瑟关了灯，靠过去吻了吻她。“晚安，”他说。

“晚安。”她轻轻拍了一下他的后背。

诺玛闭上眼睛。5万美金呢，她想着。第二天早上，她离开家时，看到了桌上被撕成两半的名片，她冲动地把碎片装进了包里。

午饭后，她把撕碎的名片拿出来，粘了起来。“我为什么要这样做呢？”她想着。

快到5点钟时，她拨通了名片上的电话号码。

“下午好，”斯图沃德先生的声音响起。

诺玛清了清喉咙，“我是刘易斯太太，”她说。

“啊，刘易斯太太，”斯图沃德先生听上去很高兴的样子。

“我很好奇。”

“那很自然，”斯图沃德先生说。

“并不是我相信你告诉我们的那些话。”

“哦，我说的可都是实话，”斯图沃德先生回答道。

“嗯，不管是什么——”诺玛咽了一下口水，“你说世界上有一个人会死去，是什么意思？”

“确实有一个人会死去，”他回答道，“死的可能是任何一个人，我们所能保证的只是您并不认识他们。当然，您也不必看着他们死去。”

“就为这5万美金的报酬？”诺玛说。

“是的。”

她冷笑了一声：“这太疯狂了。”

“不过这只是一个提议，”斯图沃德先生说，“您想要我把那个按钮装置送回去吗？”

诺玛愣了一下。“当然不，”她生气地挂断电话。

那个包裹就躺在门边，诺玛刚出电梯就看见了它。哼！好大的胆子，她心里想。开门时，她怒视着那个纸盒。我就是不把它拿进来，她想。她走进屋，开始准备晚餐。

之后，她又走到前厅，打开门，捡起了那个包裹，把它拿到厨房，放在橱柜的最下面。她想在明天早上把它扔了。

“也许是某个古怪的百万富翁想捉弄一下别人，”她说。阿瑟吃着饭，抬起头说：“我不明白你的意思。”

诺玛不声不响地吃着饭，突然，她放下叉子，说：“假如报酬确定是真的呢？”

阿瑟盯着她。

“好吧，假定是真的，那你想做什么？按下那个按钮谋杀某个人？”

诺玛看上去很气愤：“谋杀？”

“不是谋杀，你叫它什么？”

“如果你根本不认识那个人呢？”诺玛说。

阿瑟看起来吃了一惊：“我没听错吧？”

“如果死的是万里之外的某个中国老农，或是某个患病的刚果土著呢？”

“杀死的是谁又有什么区别呢？”阿瑟反问道，“反正都是谋杀。”

“问题在于，”诺玛打断了他，“如果是那些在你生命中根本没有见过也不会见到的人，你仍然不去按那个按钮？”

阿瑟盯着她，感到非常震惊：“你是说你会去按那个钮？”

“5万美元啊，阿瑟。”

“钱的多少——”

“5万，”诺玛打断了他的话，“这就意味着我们可以实现一直以来的梦想，到欧洲去玩一趟。”

“诺玛，不要这样。”

“还可以去买那幢小别墅。”

“诺玛，不行。”他的脸色苍白。

她耸耸肩。“好吧，何必这么认真，”她说，“为什么你看起来这么不安？只是说说而已。”

第二天早上，她比平常起得早，为阿瑟做了薄烤饼、鸡蛋还有熏肉之类的早餐。

“怎么给我弄这么美味的早餐啊？”他笑着问。

“没什么啊，”诺玛说，“我只想向你表明我不是——”她耸了耸肩。

“不是什么？”

“自私。”

“我这样说你了吗？”

“嗯——”她含混地做了个手势，“昨晚我觉得你——哦，误解了我的意思。”

“在哪方面？”他的声音变得小心翼翼起来。

“我觉得你认为——”她又打着手势，“我只是为自己考虑。”

“哦。”

“可是，我不是为自己。当我谈到欧洲旅行……”

“诺玛，为什么我们要为这件事纠缠不清呢？”

“我不是在纠缠，”她颤抖着吸了一口气，“我只是想表明——”

“什么？”

“想表明我想和你去欧洲旅行，希望有一幢我们自己的小别墅，希望我们有一套更好的公寓、更好的家具和更好的衣服。”

“诺玛，我们会有的，”他说。

“什么时候？”

“你是——”他似乎微微向后退了一下——“难道你是说——”

“我是说他们可能只是为了完成某个研究项目！”她打断了他的话，“也就是普通人在这样的情况下会采取什么样的行动。他们说有人会因此而死是想研究一下人们的反应，看是否会出现罪恶感和焦虑感什么的！你不会真的认为他们会杀人吧，对吗？！”

阿瑟没有回答。她看到他的手在发抖。过了一会儿，他站起来走了。

阿瑟上班走了以后，诺玛仍然坐在桌旁，两眼盯着咖啡。我要迟到了，她想。然后耸了耸肩，迟不迟到又有什么关系呢？

她在收拾盘子时，突然转过身，擦干手，从橱柜里拿出那个包裹。打开后，她把按钮装置放在桌子上。在她从信封里拿出钥匙前，她盯着装置看了好久，然后打开了玻璃罩。她盯着按钮。

多么荒唐可笑，她想，竟为这毫无意义的按钮发这么大脾气。

她伸出手，按下按钮。为了我们俩，她生气地想。

她颤抖起来，真的会像说的那样吗？一阵冷飕飕的恐惧感袭向她。

过了一会儿，恐惧感消失。她轻蔑地哼了一声。真是荒唐，她想，无缘无故地搞得心神不宁。

她把按钮装置扔进废纸篓里，匆匆穿好衣服上班去了。

她刚刚把晚饭要吃的牛排翻过来，电话铃响了，她拿起话筒：“喂？”

“是刘易斯太太吗？”

“是我，什么事？”

“这里是伦诺克斯·希尔医院。”

当电话那头的声音通知她地铁事故时，她不相信那是真的——阿瑟被拥挤的人群从站台挤到了地铁列车前轧死了。就在她挂电话时，她想起了阿瑟的25000美元的人身保险单，如遇……可拿到双倍赔偿金。

“不！”她挣扎着站起来，木然地走进厨房。

当她从废纸篓里捡回那个按钮装置时，她感觉某种冰冷的东西正挤压着她的头颅。那装置上看不到钉子或螺丝，她不明白这个东西是怎么装配起来的。

突然，她开始使劲将盒子向洗碗槽边砸去，力气越来越大，直到盒子破裂。她把盒子掰开，手指划破了也不知道。木盒里没有晶体管，没有电线，也没有真空管。

盒子是空的。

电话铃响了，她喘息着转过身去，跌跌撞撞地走到起居室，拿起了话筒。

“刘易斯夫人吗？”斯图沃德先生问。

如此尖的叫声真不像是她的声音，也不可能是她的声音：“你说过死的人会是我不认识的人！”

“亲爱的夫人，”斯图沃德先生说，“您真以为您认识自己的丈夫吗？”

Key Words:

lamb       [læm]    

n. 羔羊，小羊，羔羊肉，温顺的人

v. 产羊

kitchen   ['kitʃin]   

n. 厨房，(全套)炊具，灶间

dome     [dəum]   

n. 圆屋顶

pitch       [pitʃ]      

n. 沥青，树脂，松脂

n. 程度，投掷，球场

repressed      [ri'prest] 

adj. 被抑制的；被压抑的 v. 抑制；镇压；约束

dome     [dəum]   

n. 圆屋顶

payment ['peimənt]     

n. 支付，付款，报偿，报应

envelope       ['enviləup]     

n. 信封，封皮，壳层

valuable  ['væljuəbl]     

adj. 贵重的，有价值的

immoral  [i'mɔ:rəl] 

adj. 不道德的

genuine  ['dʒenjuin]     

adj. 真正的，真实的，真诚的

psychological [.saikə'lɔdʒikəl]      

adj. 心理(学)的

intriguing       [in'tri:giŋ]      

adj. 吸引人的，有趣的 vbl. 密谋，私通

thrust     [θrʌst]    

n. 推力，刺，力推

guarantee      [.gærən'ti:]    

n. 保证，保证书，担保，担保人，抵押品

authentic        [ɔ:'θentik]      

adj. 可信(靠)的，真实的，真正的

curious   ['kjuəriəs]

adj. 好奇的，奇特的

nonetheless   [.nʌnðə'les]   

adv. 尽管如此(仍然)

proposition    [.prɔpə'ziʃən] 

n. 建议，命题，主张

silence    ['sailəns] 

n. 沉默，寂静

vt. 使安静，使沉默

understand    [.ʌndə'stænd]

vt. 理解，懂，听说，获悉，将 ... 理解为，认为