圣拉斐尔的制动器

抽屉里的信

The Letter in the Drawer

圣拉斐尔的地面缆车已有了一百一十二年的历史，高三十一米，是瓦尔帕莱索港口与山丘上街区之间最短的通道。两节木质车厢悬挂在同一根钢缆上，一节向上升起，另一节则向下滑行，在轨道中央的会让处，它们总会以一声刺耳的摩擦声互相致意，街区里的每个孩子都能模仿那声音。

The funicular of San Rafael was a hundred and twelve years old, thirty-one metres high, and the shortest link between the harbour of Valparaíso and the neighbourhood on the hill. Two wooden cabins hung from a single cable; one went up while the other slid down, and halfway along the track, at the passing place, they greeted each other with a squeak that every child in the neighbourhood could imitate.

它是由一位从未去过智利的瑞士工程师建造的，那位工程师将图纸寄了过来，并附言称瓦尔帕莱索是“一座属于山羊和乐观主义者的城市”。从那以后，这趟缆车经受住了两次地震、一场大火，而且正如街区里的人们所说，还熬过了七任市长——这可要困难得多。

It had been built by a Swiss engineer who had never been to Chile and had sent his plans on paper with the remark that Valparaíso was “a city for goats and optimists”. Since then the railway had survived two earthquakes, a fire and, as people in the neighbourhood said, seven mayors, which had been far more difficult.

Don Rodrigo Maldonado 开这辆缆车已经有三十一年了，正如他在心情好时常说的那样，每一米对应一年。这种情况很少见。他六十一岁了，双膝在有雾时听起来就像生锈的铰链，山顶站的抽屉里还放着一封他在六年前写的信。“本人特此提出辞职”，信上这样写道，下面用他认为具有官方风格的笔迹签着他的名字。

Don Rodrigo Maldonado had operated the railway for thirty-one years, one year for every metre, as he liked to say when he was in the mood. That rarely happened. He was sixty-one, had knees that sounded like rusty hinges in the fog, and a letter in the drawer of the top station that he had written six years ago. “I hereby declare my resignation,” it said, and beneath it, in handwriting he considered official, his name.

他从未寄出过这封信，因为他知道答案。他曾三次口头提出辞职，而市政当局三次都给了他同样的答复：只要能找到会开这趟缆车的人，他们很乐意放他走。可是，有谁愿意拿着勉强够付房租的微薄薪水，每天清晨六点一刻去唤醒一台1912年的机器呢？没有任何人报名前来。Don Rodrigo 继续工作，而那封信就在他的抽屉里静静等待，像一本从未被使用过的护照。

He had never sent it, because he knew the answer. Three times he had resigned by word of mouth, and three times the city administration had told him the same thing: they would gladly let him go as soon as someone was found who could operate the railway. But who would want to wake a machine from 1912 every morning at a quarter past six for a wage that barely covered the rent? Nobody applied. Don Rodrigo kept working, and in his drawer the letter waited like a passport one never uses.

在五月的这个星期二，港口笼罩着薄雾，当那个拿着公文包的女人走进山下站时，她的大衣上沾着深色的水滴。她自我介绍叫 Marisol Vidal，是市建设局的工程师，并将一份文件放在了桌上。文件很简短：圣拉斐尔的地面缆车将在今天接受一次全面的安全检查；如果未能通过制动测试，运营必须立即终止。

On this Tuesday in May there was fog over the harbour, and when the woman with the folder entered the bottom station, there were dark drops on her coat. She introduced herself as Marisol Vidal, an engineer from the city’s building department, and put a letter on the table. It was short. The funicular of San Rafael would undergo a complete safety inspection that very day. If it failed the brake test, operation was to be suspended with immediate effect.

Don Rodrigo 将那句话读了两遍，他的脸上掠过一丝异样的神情，Marisol 事后也无法形容出来。那不是惊恐，倒更像是一个等候火车多年的人终于得知了发车时间。“来杯咖啡吗？”他问。她拒绝了。但他还是在她面前放了一杯散发着肉桂香味的咖啡，并说只要她愿意，她可以使用这辆缆车，钥匙就挂在门边。

Don Rodrigo read the sentence twice, and something in his face moved that Marisol would later not have been able to describe. It was not alarm. It looked more as if a man who had been waiting for a train for years had at last been told the departure time. “Coffee?” he asked. She declined. He put a cup in front of her anyway, one that smelled of cinnamon, and said she could have the railway for as long as she liked; the keys hung next to the door.

Marisol 三十四岁，在建设局工作的十一年里，她明白了一个道理：在面临关停时微笑的男人，要么是什么都没搞懂，要么就是有所隐瞒。她打定主意要同时留意这两点。随后，她打开公文包，戴上手套，走进了下方的车厢。

Marisol was thirty-four and had learned in eleven years at the building department that a man who smiles at a shutdown has either understood nothing or is hiding something. She resolved to watch for both. Then she opened her folder, put on gloves and climbed into the lower cabin.