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The Man in Asbestos
穿石棉衣服的人
Stephen Leacock
斯蒂芬·李科克
To begin with, let me admit that I did it partly from jealousy.
首先，我要承认，我这么做，部分原因是出于嫉妒。
It seemed unfair that other writers should be able at will to drop into a sleep of four or five hundred years, and to plunge headfirst into a distant future and be a witness of its marvels.
我觉得，别的作家都能够随心所欲地睡上四五百年，然后直接进入遥远的未来，体验那时各种神奇的事物，而我不能。这太不公平了。
I wanted to do that too.
我也要那么做。
I made preparations for the sleep.
我为这次长眠作了充分的准备。
It was, in a way, clear, straight suicide, but I did it.
在某种意义上，这简直就是直截了当的自杀。但是我就这么做了。
I could feel my senses leaving me. I fell into the deep immeasurable sleep in which the very existence of the outer world was hushed. Dimly I could feel the days go past, then years, and then the long passage of the centuries.
我可以感到自己在慢慢失去知觉。我进入了深不可测的沉睡。周围万籁倶寂。我迷迷糊糊感觉到日子一天天过去，然后一年年，最后是一个一个世纪。
Then quite suddenly, I woke up, and looked about me.
然后，我就突然醒来了。我往四下一望。
Where was I?
我这是在哪里啊？
I found myself sitting on a broad couch in some kind of museum.
我发现自己好像在一个博物馆模样的房子里，坐在一张宽宽的长沙发上。
Beside me sat a man. His face was hairless, but neither old nor young. He wore clothes that looked like the grey ashes of paper that had burned and kept its shape. He was looking at me quietly, but with no particular surprise or interest.
在我旁边，还坐着一个人，他脸上光滑无毛发，看不出多大年纪。身上穿的衣服好像是纸糊的，被烧成灰以后仍然还保持着原来的形状。此人正在默默地望着我，既没有显得惊奇，也没表示丝毫兴趣。
"Quick," I said, eager to begin. "Where am I? Who are you?"
“快！”我迫不及待地问道，“我现在是在什么地方？你是谁？”
