They both became aware that Wonko the Sane was glancing sharply backwards and forwards between them, and trying to get a gasp in edgeways. You have one of those too? he said to both of them. Yes. They both said it. He looked long and calmly at each of them, then he held up the bowl to catch the light of the Californian sun. The bowl seemed almost to sing with the sun, to chime with the intensity of its light, and cast darkly brilliant rainbows around the sand and upon them. He turned it, and turned it. They could see quite clearly in the fine tracery of its etchwork the words “So Long, and Thanks For All The Fish.” Do you know, asked Wonko quietly, what it is? They each shook their heads slowly, and with wonder, almost hypnotized by the flashing of the lightning shadows in the grey glass. It is a farewell gift from the dolphins, said Wonko in a low quiet voice, the dolphins whom I loved and studied, and swam with, and fed with fish, and even tried to learn their language, a task which they seemed to make impossibly difficult, considering the fact that I now realize they were perfectly capable of communicating in ours if they decided they wanted to. He shook his head with a slow, slow smile, and then looked again at Fenchurch, and then at Arthur. Have you… he said to Arthur, what have you done with yours? May I ask you that? Er, I keep a fish in it, said Arthur, slightly embarrassed. I happened to have this fish I was wondering what to do with, and, er, there was this bowl. He tailed off. You’ve done nothing else? No, he said, if you had, you would know. He shook his head again. My wife kept wheatgerm in ours, resumed Wonko, with some new tone in his voice, until last night… What, said Arthur slowly and hushedly, happened last night? We ran out of wheatgerm, said Wonko, evenly. My wife, he added, has gone to get some more. He seemed lost with his own thoughts for a moment. And what happened then? said Fenchurch, in the same breathless tone. I washed it, said Wonko. I washed it very carefully, very very carefully, removing every last speck of wheatgerm, then I dried it slowly with a lint-free cloth, slowly, carefully, turning it over and over. Then I held it to my ear. Have you… have you held one to your ear? They both shook their heads, again slowly, again dumbly. Perhaps, he said, you should. 他们都意识到独醒客来回尖锐地看着他们，试图喘着气岔进来。 “你们也有这个东西？”他对他俩说。 “是的。”他们都说。 他久久地、平静地看着他们，然后把碗举起来，对着加利福尼亚的阳光。 鱼缸看起来迎着阳光似乎要唱首歌，来应和阳光的照耀，并且把淡淡而绚丽的彩虹洒在沙滩上，洒在他们身上。他转动鱼缸，又转了转。他们能够清楚地看见细小而情形的字迹：“再见，谢谢你们的鱼。” “你们知道，”独醒客轻轻地问，“这是什么吗？” 他俩缓缓的摇头，几乎被透过灰色的玻璃的光影带入了梦境。 “这是海豚们离开的时候送的礼物。”独醒客用低缓的声音说，“那些海豚，我爱过它们，学习过它们，用鱼喂过它们，甚至试着去学习它们的语言，但它们把自己的语言弄得很难，我们根本不可能学会。但是如果它们愿意的话，可以毫不费力地学会我们的语言。” 他摇摇头，脸上缓慢地浮现出一个微笑，看了看芬切琪，又看了看阿瑟。 “你有没有……”他对阿瑟说，“你用自己的鱼缸做什么了？我可不可以问一问？” “呃，我在里面放了条鱼，”阿瑟有点局促地说，“我正好有一条鱼不知道该怎么处理，然后，呃，就有了这个鱼缸。”他声音越来越小，然后没说了。 “没干别的吧？应该没有，”他说，“如果你做了，你会知道的。”他摇摇头。 “我妻子在我们的鱼缸里面放了麦芽，”独醒客换了个口气接着说，“直到昨天晚上……” “什么？”阿瑟缓缓地说，“昨天晚上发生的？” “我们的麦芽吃完了，”独醒客很平静，“我妻子去再买一点。”有那么一会他看起来陷入自己的思想中去了。 “然后发生了什么？”芬切琪用同样的几乎屏息的声音问。 “我洗了鱼缸。”独醒客说，“我非常仔细地洗了鱼缸，非常非常仔细，洗掉了每一片麦芽的污迹，然后用一块无绒布慢慢擦干，慢慢地，仔细地、翻来覆去地擦干。然后我放在耳朵边上。你们有没有……你们有没有试过把鱼缸放在耳朵边上？” 他俩都默默地、缓缓地摇摇头。 “也许，”他说，“你们应该试试。”
