Chapter 28

28 FLOOOP, FLOOOP, FLOOOP. Grampa Al's windmill, beautifully reconstructed from a car's radiator fan, aluminum tent poles, a bicycle frame and chain, a rubber belt, pulleys, and plastic pipes, turns steadily in the brisk breeze on the roof of the old factory building. "Smoother than a baby's butt," says Grampa Al.

28楼，楼，楼。 阿尔爷爷的风车，用汽车的散热器风扇、铝制帐篷杆、自行车车架和链条、橡胶带、滑轮和塑料管漂亮地重新组装而成，在微风中在老厂房的屋顶上平稳地转动着。 “比婴儿的屁股还光滑，”阿尔爷爷说。

Klink holds his windmill attachment up in the breeze and tops off his battery charge to full. "Smoother than 'a flock of sheep that leisurely pass by one after one,'" says Klink. Grampa Al stares, then laughs. "William Wordsworth? Did you just look that up?" Klink nods his glass-domed head. "You are turning into a real poet." "And my feet show it!" says Klink. "They are Longfellows." Grampa Al laughs even louder. "You have no idea why that's funny, do you?"

Klink在微风中举起他的风车附件，给他的电池充电。 “比‘一群羊一个接一个悠闲地走过’更顺畅，”Klink说。 爷爷看了看，然后笑了。 “威廉·华兹华斯?你刚查过吗？”克林点了点头他那玻璃圆顶的头。 “你正在变成一个真正的诗人。” “我的脚可以证明！”Klink说。 “他们是朗费罗。”爷爷笑得更大声了。 “你不知道这有什么好笑的，对吧？”

"Well," says Klink, "because long feet are... funny?" "I didn't think so," says Grampa Al.

“嗯，”克林克说，“因为长脚…… 好笑的吗?”“我不这么认为，”阿尔爷爷说。

Watson loads a perfectly dimpled plastic pellet into his Perfect Peashooter. He takes aim at the empty soda can on the ledge. Puffs. Fires. Plink! "Perfect," says Watson, without much enthusiasm.

华生把一个完美的塑料弹丸装进他的完美枪里。 他瞄准了窗台上的空汽水罐。 泡芙。火灾。叮铃声!“太好了，”沃森说，没有太多的热情。

Frank carefully places the Electro-Finger in its saxophone case. Frank makes a last note in his Energy notebook and then closes it. "Entry twenty-one," says Frank. "Tesla would have liked that. Seven times his favorite number, three." Frank, Watson, and Grampa Al look out over the rooftops of downtown Midville. The sun sinks slowly below the western horizon. Streetlights and house lights wink on in the darkening dusk. "I'm glad we could at least use the Electro- Finger to replace all the power generators Edison destroyed," says Frank. "He would have controlled every bit of energy in Midville if it wasn't for Klank," says Watson. "I will remember Klank every time I see a light go on." Klink, trying to think of something nice, and true, to say, is at least half successful. "I

弗兰克小心翼翼地把电子手指放在萨克斯盒里。 弗兰克在他的能源笔记本上做了最后一个笔记，然后合上了笔记本。 “21号入口，”弗兰克说。 “特斯拉会喜欢这样的。 七倍于他最喜欢的数字，三倍。” 弗兰克、华生和阿尔爷爷眺望米德维尔市中心的屋顶。 太阳慢慢地落在西方的地平线下。 街灯和家灯在渐暗的黄昏中闪烁着。 弗兰克说：“我很高兴我们至少可以用电子手指来取代爱迪生摧毁的所有发电机。” “如果不是克兰克，他会控制米德维尔的每一点能量，”沃森说。 “每当我看到灯亮起，我就会想起克兰克。” Klink，试着去想一些美好而真实的东西，至少成功了一半。 “我

will remember Klank every time I think of electrons." Frank shakes his head. "I thought I could put him back together. But there were just too many pieces. Too much was broken." Frank flicks the trigger of the Electro-Finger back and forth. Flooop flooop flooop goes Grampa Al's windmill, somehow sounding as sad as everyone feels. Flooop flooop flooop. Badang, badang, badang. The windmill sound turns into half Robot Boogie. Flooop badang flooop badang flooop badang badang badang. The guys turn away from the sunset to see what is going on with the windmill. And there, shining in the last red rays of the setting sun, in all his repatched, reconstructed,

我一想到电子就会想起克兰克。” 弗兰克摇了摇头。“我以为我能让他重新振作起来。 但是碎片太多了。 太多东西被破坏了。”弗兰克来回拨动电指的扳机。 阿尔爷爷的风车呜呜呜呜地转着，听起来和每个人都一样悲伤。 滚，滚，滚。巴当，巴当，巴当。 风车的声音变成了半机器人布吉。 打滚，打滚，打滚，打滚。 这些人从夕阳中转过身去看风车发生了什么事。 在那里，在夕阳最后的红光照耀下，在他所有的修复和重建中，