He spent most of those three months in a ROM-generated
simstim construct of an idealized New England boyhood of
the previous century. The Dutchman's visits were gray dawn
dreams, nightmares that faded as the sky lightened beyond his
secondfloor bedroom window You could smell the lilacs,
late at night. He read Conan Doyle by the light of a sixty-watt
bulb behind a parchment shade printed with clipper ships He
masturbated in the smell of clean cotton sheets and thought
about cheerleaders. The Dutchman opened a door in his back
brain and came strolling in to ask questions, but in the
morning his mother called him down to Wheaties, eggs and
bacon, coffee with milk and sugar.
这三个月里的大部分时间，他待在只读存储器建构的拟感环境里，在概念化的上世纪新英格兰重温孩提时代。荷兰佬的拜访犹如灰色的黎明之梦，随着二楼卧室窗外的天空渐渐亮起而消散的噩梦。深夜时分，你能闻到紫丁香的芬芳。印着飞剪式帆船的羊皮纸蒙着一个六十瓦的灯泡，他借着光线读柯南·道尔。干净的棉布被单的气味包裹着他，他想着拉拉队长手淫。荷兰佬打开他后脑的一扇门，溜达进来向他提问，但每到早晨他母亲就叫他下楼吃麦片、炒蛋和培根，咖啡里加了牛奶和砂糖。
And one morning he woke in a strange bed, the Dutchman
standing beside a window spilling tropical green and a sun-
light that hurt his eyes. "You can go home now, Turner
We're done with you You're good as new
一天早晨他在陌生的床上醒来，荷兰佬站在一扇窗旁，照进窗口的热带绿色与阳光让他眼睛发痛。“你可以回家了，特纳，我们完事了，你和新的一样好。”
