Arthur pushed himself up on his elbows and peered at it.
It was a grey box, with a kind of dull lustre to it. It was a cubic grey box, just over a foot on a side. It was tied with a single grey ribbon, knotted into a neat bow on the top.
He got up, walked over and touched it in surprise. Whatever it was was clearly gift-wrapped, neatly and beautifully, and was waiting for him to open it.
Cautiously, he picked it up and carried it back to the bed. He brushed the dust off the top and loosened the ribbon. The top of the box was a lid, with a flap tucked into the body of the box.
He untucked it and looked into the box. In it was a glass globe, nestling in fine grey tissue paper. He drew it out, carefully. It wasn’t a proper globe because it was open at the bottom, or, as Arthur realized turning it over, at the top, with a thick rim. It was a bowl. A fish bowl.
It was made of the most wonderful glass perfectly transparent, yet with an extraordinary silver-grey quality as if crystal and slate had gone into its making.
Arthur slowly turned it over and over in his hands. It was one of the most beautiful objects he had ever seen, but he was entirely perplexed by it. He looked into the box, but other than the tissue paper there was nothing. On the outside of the box there was nothing.
He turned the bowl round again. It was wonderful. It was exquisite. But it was a fish bowl.
He tapped it with his thumbnail and it rang with a deep and glorious chime which was sustained for longer than seemed possible, and when at last it faded seemed not to die away but to drift off into other worlds, as into a deep sea dream.
Entranced, Arthur turned it round yet again, and this time the light from the dusty little bedside lamp caught it at a different angle and glittered on some fine abrasions on the fish bowl’s surface. He held it up, adjusting the angle to the light, and suddenly saw clearly the finely engraved shapes of words shadowed on the glass.
So Long, they said, and Thanks…
And that was all. He blinked, and understood nothing.
For fully five more minutes he turned the object round and around, held it to the light at different angles, tapped it for its mesmerizing chime and pondered on the meaning of the shadowy letters but could find none. Finally he stood up, filled the bowl with water from the tap and put it back on the table next to the television. He shook the little Babel fish from his ear and dropped it, wriggling, into the bowl. He wouldn’t be needing it any more, except for watching foreign movies.
He returned to lie on his bed, and turned out the light.
He lay still and quiet. He absorbed the enveloping darkness, slowly relaxed his limbs from end to end, eased and regulated his breathing, gradually cleared his mind of all thought, closed his eyes and was completely incapable of getting to sleep.
The night was uneasy with rain. The rain clouds themselves had now moved on and were currently concentrating their attention on a small transport cafe just outside Bournemouth, but the sky through which they had passed had been disturbed by them and now wore a damply ruffled air, as if it didn’t know what else it might not do it further provoked.
The moon was out in a watery way. It looked like a ball of paper from the back pocket of jeans that have just come out of the washing machine, and which only time and ironing would tell if it was an old shopping list or a five pound note.
The wind flicked about a little, like the tail of a horse that’s trying to decide what sort of mood it’s in tonight, and a bell somewhere chimed midnight.
A skylight creaked open.
阿瑟用胳膊撑起自己然后盯着它。
那是个灰盒子，有一种暗淡的光泽。那是一个正方形的灰盒子，每个边也就一英尺多。它被一条灰色丝带系着，上面有个精巧的蝴蝶结。
他站起来，走过去惊讶地摸着它。无论那是什么，它很明显是个精巧美丽的礼品，正等着他去打开。
他谨慎地把它拿起来带回到床上，随后拂掉上面的灰尘并解开带子。盒子顶上有个盖子，用一个薄片扣住盒子。
他把盖子打开然后往盒子里看。里面有一个玻璃球，包在精致的灰色棉纸中。他小心翼翼地把它抽了出来。那并不是一个完全的球体，因为底部有个开口，或者说，当阿瑟把它倒过来的时候才意识到，那个开口是在顶部，而且有很粗的镶边。那是一个缸。一个鱼缸。
它是用最精良的玻璃制成，拥有完美的透明度，而且有一种超凡的银灰质感，就好像制作时加入了水晶和页岩。
阿瑟把它放在手里转来转去。这是他有生以来见过的最漂亮的东西之一，但对它完全不知所措。他看着盒子，但里面除了灰色棉纸之外别无他物。外面也同样什么都没有。
他再一次转过那个缸。它很奇妙。它很精致。但它是个鱼缸。
他用指甲敲击它，鱼缸发出低沉而辉煌的响声，比想象中萦绕了更久，当声音最终黯淡下来时，似乎并没有消失，而只是飘向了另外一个世界，好像进入了深海梦境。
恍惚中，阿瑟再一次转动鱼缸，此时从落满灰的小床头灯上发出的光亮从另一个角度照射着它，鱼缸表面一些细小的磨痕闪闪发光。他把它举起来，调整着光照的角度，突然清楚地看见了细小的雕刻文字在玻璃上投下的阴影。
“再见，”上面写着，“谢谢……”
就这些。他眨着眼，什么都没明白。
整整五分钟里，他把那个物什转过来又转过去，把它从不同角度对着光，聆听着那让人着迷的敲击声。他沉思着，想找出那些阴影文字的意义，但还是失败了。最终他站了起来，用水龙头把鱼缸灌满水，把它放到电视旁的桌上。他把巴别鱼从耳朵里倒出来，鱼扭动着掉进缸里。他再也不需要巴别鱼了，除了看外国电影的时候。
他躺回床上，关掉了灯。
他静静地躺着。他在黑暗的包裹之中慢慢地放松他的全部四肢，控制呼吸，逐渐清除脑中的杂念，阖上双眼，完全不能入睡。
这个夜晚被雨弄得很不安宁。雨云们继续前进，正把注意力集中在伯恩茅斯外的一家小路边餐馆上，但是它们经过的天空依然被扰动了，空气潮湿，云层翻腾，就好像天空不知道还有什么它不能被激怒的。
月亮湿漉漉的。它看起来就像刚从洗衣机里出来的牛仔裤后袋中的纸球，只有时间和熨斗才知道它到底是一张旧的购物单还是一张五英镑钞票。
风在四周轻拂，就像一匹拿不定今晚心情的马在摇尾巴，而某处的铃声在午夜响起。
一扇天窗吱吱嘎嘎地打开了。