那是一次寻常的飞跃大西洋的航班：整整9个小时头不停地在靠垫上移来移去，想枕得舒服些，小屏幕上首轮影片的无声镜头抖动着，多得无法消化的淀粉食物和饮料。

It was the usual transatlantic flight: nine hours of fidgeting to get the pillow right, first-run movies flickering mutely on small screens, an indigestible flow of starchy food and drinks.

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无声的蒙太奇镜头闪回了地球，蝙蝠侠去看维克森。

Back on Earth, in a wordless montage, Batman goes to see Vixen.

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直到最后一刻，我还在那，无数的炸弹炸了，无数次人们不再惊愕，不再愤怒；慢镜头里，人们无声地尖叫着。

Toward the end, when I was still there, so many bombs had gone off so many times that they no longer shocked or even roused; the people screamed in silence and in slow motion.

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