穿越宇宙 Connecting Through the
Cosmos
By Holly Schofield
Translate By Noc
2015-03
彗星科幻
Stephen looks up from the console screen where the 3D chess game is displayed. The countdown clock reads 17 years, 6 days, and 5 hours left. "Horse to D7-2."
A thousand light-years away, his younger twin brother Andy (a full two minutes younger), chases the horse with a cannon along the tri-level virtual chessboard. "Check, big brother." His voice whispers through the speaker.
Stephen grins. "You should have more patience, little brother, like a general." He takes a bite of Andy's sugar cake, which Andy smuggled to him yesterday.
"You are as timid as a rat, Stephen." Andy's usually cheerful banter is listless. "Almost time for the transfer," he adds.
Stephen's alien Crow boss slides into the seat beside him, readying its headset for the shipment transfer. Across the heavens, Andy's own Crow boss will be doing the same.
The Crow's eyes catch Stephen's, black and glittering. It dislikes that the two brothers spend the daily 5-minute warm-up period that precedes a shipment playing chess and exchanging friendly insults. Stephen has nightmares about what it would do if it knew about their smuggling.
The twenty-year contract with the Crows that Stephen and Andy have signed is a result of Andy's impulsiveness, a spur-of-the-moment decision as they strolled past hucksters and hawkers down the main walkway of the PanEuro-TianGong8 space station, their wage chits from the Terra-Mars shipping run bulging in their pockets. After a drinking session with some shipmates, including the chatty Lin sisters (the only other set of twins they know), they had headed out onto the moving sidewalks. Unaccustomed to the local bootleg brew, Stephen had felt happy but muzzy.
"What next?" Andy had said. "Military?"
Stephen had shaken his head, inducing more dizziness. "No mercenary gigs for me. I want something where I can play chess and eat rich food, like a cruise ship passenger, and not worry about the future."
Andy spied the Council of Crows' recruiting office on the next corner and steered Stephen inside, saying the Lin sisters had told him rumors: how they only hire pairs of twins, how five-minutes' work pays triple a mechanic's daily wage. The hunched Crow tested their brain waves for mental acumen. Stephen passed handily; Andy was border-line. To bolster Andy's ego at being acceptable to the clever aliens, Stephen had pressed both their thumbs to the contract, uncharacteristically not reading it. Besides, anything was better than endlessly pulling wrenches in the fetid bowels of the slow transport spaceships. The large paychecks would mean they could set up a business when the contract is finished--a solid future for them both.
For days, they both felt triumphant, especially when they found out the Lin sisters had been turned down for past minor criminal offenses. It wasn't until the mustering day that Stephen realized Andrew and he had been hired by the Crows only so they could be split apart: Stephen to remain on a small Terran space station that occasionally passes near PanEuro-TianGong8; Andy being sent to a base on Kepler-48b, an Earth-like planet over 1,000 light-years away, with only a Crow for company.
#
"Checkmate," Stephen quickly tells Andy, gesturing at the screen to slide his own cannon forward and down a level to complete the game. Under the Crow's glare, he smears conductive gel across his shaven scalp and slips on the neuro-helmet.
The Crows' appearance--black cloaks over thin-boned frames--has given them their unfortunate nickname, even as their uneasy fifty-year interaction with humans has pumped up the ailing Terran economies. Stephen has read some recent panspermia research that indicates both Crows and Terrans share common ancestors. He chooses not to believe it, although he admires the Crows' diligence in completing projects.
As always, the transfer process is both simple and terrifying. Stephen's heart begins to thump as the Crow checks the manifest: seeds and fertilizer for the "terraforming" of the Council of Crows' newly claimed planet. Stephen breaks into a sweat as the Crow puts on its slender headset and adjusts the settings. Robots place a large shipping container on the transfer platform.
The Crow raises a black-clad fist, then lowers it, signalling its initiation of the transfer process.
Stephen takes a deep breath and feels his brain explode.
A cacophony of stars, a cavalcade of lights, he turns, cartwheeling end-over-end in nothingness, spinning between stars, past swirling galaxies, tumbling, rolling, twisting, without end. The loneliness crushes him, the emptiness shrieks through his mind like a wailing ghost. He is a child, a baby, an egg, an atom.
The cosmos shrinks, origin and destination unified at the beginning of time.
After no time at all, and an eternity, Stephen is reborn into pain. He drifts. Agony sears his brain.
In the smaller, newly created universe, the Crow's mind extends through and beyond Stephen's anguished core, a foggy gray bridge. The cloud-like band spans solar systems, amorphous, prevalent yet weak, a broad pathway through the infant heavens, leading to its Crow mate.
In torment, Stephen's mind casts a reed-thin strip, an orange-colored fishing line spiraling desperately, seeking something--what?--amid the dismal grey path of the Crow.
Eons later, he thinks: little brother. He forces himself to ignore the pain, to seek out his twin brother, the impetuous, fun-loving soul that is so much a part of him.
He struggles along the cloud, across the void that is space/time, searching for Andy's orange-colored speck in the distance. He spies it and, arduously crawls toward it. In that instant, he is an electron seeking its twin, connecting by a quantum link as old as the universe. Slowly he draws near enough to sense Andy's terror and isolation. He reaches out and Andy's hand meets his.
In that instant, they are as one, as close as twin brothers can be.
In that instant, the shipment is transferred through the interstellar channel that the Crow-human twinning has opened. The crate on the hub platform disappears from Stephen's side and appears on Andy's, soon to be unpacked by one of the Kepler base's many robots.
#
Stephen grows aware he is slumped in his console chair and the Crow has withdrawn to its quarters. The screen is dark. He drags off his helmet, letting it fall to the floor beside the Crow's discarded headset. He grabs the towel he keeps under the chair and mops the conductive gel and the sweat from his head. He pictures Andy doing the same.
The dizziness, nausea, and lingering pain take time to subside. He had just given a part of his life, his mind, and his soul in order to help the Crows' colonization efforts. He scrubs his face, checks orbits, and realizes that PanEuro-TianGong8 has swung close by. He will head there tonight and spend most of his pay, attempting to forget the sensations he just experienced. He cannot imagine how Andy copes. His little brother lives "in the moment", suffering transfer agony to an even greater degree than Stephen. And Andy's isolation on Kepler-48b is total--he will have no human contact until the warm-up session with Stephen tomorrow.
After a while, Stephen eats a protein bar then forces himself to stand. When the Crow sleeps is Stephen's time to do his research. The components of his own helmet utilize well-documented human neurology but the Crow's headset is taking him much longer to understand.
The countdown clock reads 17 years, 6 days, and 4 hours.
#
Four years pass. Stephen has studied the headset and has a theory about the Crows' use of quantum entanglement to connect across the cosmos. The Crows use the humans for the agonizing fine-tuning of the Crow's fuzzier signals, necessary for shipment transmissions. However, Stephen does not know enough about Crow neurology to finish his investigation.
In their five-minute automated daily sessions, Stephen tries to ignore Andy's stammering speech and the invalid chess moves as Andy's trembling hand more and more slides a piece incorrectly across the screen. Frequently, he smuggles treats to Andy: alcohol and uppers. He waxes poetic about the sugar cakes Andy sends in return, even as Andy loses interest in making them. Andy reluctantly sends medical updates showing his stress levels are sky-rocketing.
They often discuss smuggling Andy back to Terra. Even if they could rig the transfer process to work without the Crow's involvement, there is little doubt they will get caught. Shipments are precisely calibrated for mass and volume. The 20-year contract's stated penalty, reinforced by several news stories, is that Andy, and likely Stephen too, would finish the remainder of the contract in a Mars jail, where death is almost certain.
#
By the end of the fifth year, Andy is willing to take the risk. He pleads for Stephen's help. Over and over, Stephen refuses although Andy can no longer sleep more than four hours at a time and his hair has turned gray.
The screen opens for the daily session. "I've killed it!" Andy's eyes are wild.
"Show me, little brother," Stephen instructs, heart thumping.
Andy's fingers reach near the screen to adjust the camera's view. They are bloody.
Stephen tries to mask his growing horror.
Andy's Crow boss sprawls on the floor near the console, its headset still affixed to its narrow skull. Its chest is smashed open, blood spurting out. A bloodied wrench lies nearby. "I couldn't help it. It put gray clouds in my mind, in my dreams!" Andy's hands grip the seatback hard enough to dent the plasti-foam. A medical robot rolls into view.
"It's still alive!" Stephen shouts into the microphone. "Tell the medi-bot to hook up a heart pump. If the Crow dies, you will be next!" As the only remaining sentient being on Kepler-48b, Andy's guilt will not be disputed, even by the Terran courts. The penalty for murder is lethal injection.
Stephen watches tensely, surprised that the screen is still connected despite the Crow's unconscious state.
After a moment, Andy follows his older brother's advice. The Crow's damage is extensive: ribs, arms, and legs are broken. Stephen wonders if Andy kept beating the unconscious Crow during the four minutes before the automatic session opened. He doesn't ask.
The Crow seated next to Stephen has been frozen in shock. It reaches for the console, its intentions of calling security staff clear.
Stephen swivels his chair toward the Crow and lunges. His hands grip the alien's throat and he squeezes with all his power. He stops when the Crow grows limp.
He lets his medi-bot stabilize the unconscious Crow, much as the Kepler medi-bot is doing to the Crow that Andy attacked.
He has twenty-four hours before the next session will reveal their crimes. He removes the Crow's headset and begins an fMRI brain scan.
#
Just before the next day's session, Stephen cranks open the station airlock. "I hope this fits your fat head," he tells one of the Lin sisters, handing her the duct-taped Crow headset. "And yours," he tells the second sister, giving her the cobbled-together replica he has spent hours crafting.
The two chubby women smile and place the modified headsets over their temples with grease-stained hands. The Terran economies have slumped even further in the eight years since Stephen signed the contract. The sisters are happy to live in the small space station, happy to be employed by Stephen, even at half-pay.
Stephen climbs into the shipping crate with his duffel bag before injecting himself. He uses the same drug Andy used to travel to Kepler-48b eight years ago to join the Crow that had undergone the painful journey alone beforehand. The drug will ensure Stephen sleeps during the trip.
He awakens at the Kepler base when Andy opens the lid of the crate. His little brother looks as old as their father had on his deathbed but, at least, he is alive. And Stephen's jury-rigged headsets have worked.
They hug one another briefly.
The Kepler base smells of stale sweat and burned sugar. Stephen realizes for the first time that the station is flimsy, the materials shoddy, made to be temporary during the Crows' "terraforming". Acid eats away at the building, etching the windows that look onto a barren landscape.
#
It is not until the next day's session that Stephen can test his theory. He takes a software chip from his duffel and plugs it into Andy's foul-smelling helmet. He jams it on the unconscious Crow, just as he had done with his own helmet back on the Terran space station.
Stephen stands behind Andy's chair as they both don juiced-up Crow headsets. Beside him, the Crow's head lolls as Andy's helmet drags it down. On the screen, he watches the Lin sisters instruct the robots to load a crate on the platform.
He enters a command and a cloud forms in his mind, puffy and smelling oddly like peaches. Andy floats at his side and together they are travelling along a frothy orange bridge, wide and beautiful, through the shrunken universe toward Terra. After a long, pleasant journey, their cloud mingles with the pale yellow bridge the Lin sisters have generated. Stephen's blood tingles as if wine has been injected into his veins. Beside him, Andy laughs in joy.
Stephen glances back along the tangerine-hued expanse. A harsh black line wobbles toward him and soon passes him: the Kepler Crow's mind in the adapted helmet. Another line, equally unsteady, approaches from the direction of Terra. In the last instant before the lines touch, he wonders if the two Crows feel the same intense pain and loneliness that he and Andy felt. He dismisses the thought, caught up in the closeness of his brother's company.
The two black lines touch. Darkness, and a flare of wondrous light, as the universe is reborn.
All too soon, the shipment is completed and their minds return to their bodies at the Kepler base camp.
#
With a sigh of contentment, Stephen executes a flying general move, snapping down the plastic tile triumphantly. "Checkmate," he says.
Andy, across the table, acknowledges the chess win with a grin. He sips his tea with an almost-steady hand.
The Crow's life support system beeps reassuringly.
Over the past few months, in their companionable isolation 1,000 light-years from anywhere, Stephen has taught Andy all he knows about the headsets and Crow neurology. They continue to experiment with neurosteroids, hoping to eventually wean themselves off the Crows' contributions. Stephen is pleased with Andy's ability to follow the training.
Investigation of the Kepler base's reports indicate that the terraforming will not make a habitable world for six hundred years. After the contract ends, they will have to admit their sins to the Council of Crows and face the death penalty.
Stephen glances at the clock: 11 years, 2 months, and 2 days remaining.
Andy has taught him something too: Each minute is to be savored. The future no longer holds fear.
Stephen chews on a sugar cake, relishing each bite.
斯蒂芬抬头看了看控制屏——上面显示着3D象棋的棋局。倒计时器上,时间还剩下17年6天5小时。“马跳到D7-2。”
一千光年外,他的双胞胎弟弟安迪(比他小整两分钟),沿着三维虚拟棋盘用炮追上了那枚马。“将军,大哥。”他透过扬声器悄声说。
斯蒂芬咧嘴笑了。“你应该再耐心点,小弟,得像个将军那样。”他咬了口安迪的椰丝甜蛋糕,那是安迪昨天偷运给他的。
“你胆小得像只老鼠,斯蒂芬。”通常安迪说起俏皮话来总是语气愉悦,今天却无精打采的。“差不多到传送的时候了,”他补充道。
斯蒂芬的外星乌鸦老板滑进他旁边的座位,调整耳机,为货物传送做准备。天空的另一端,安迪自己的乌鸦老板也在做相同的事。
乌鸦人黑而闪亮的眼睛注视着斯蒂芬的双眼。兄弟俩每天在送货前都会花上五分钟下棋和互相打趣,它不怎么喜欢这种热身。要是它知道他们在私自偷运东西,肯定会惩罚他们——想到这个,斯蒂芬有时会做噩梦。
斯蒂芬和安迪跟乌鸦人签下为期二十年的合同,是因为安迪一时冲动。那时他们正沿着泛欧洲-天宫八号空间站的主干道漫步,路两旁是大声叫卖的推销员和小贩,他们口袋里塞得鼓鼓囊囊全是从地球往火星运货所得的工资。跟同船船员——包括那两个饶舌的林氏姐妹(除了他们自己,他们只认识这对双胞胎)——喝了几顿后,兄弟俩踏上了移动人行道。
斯蒂芬不太适应当地的非法私酿,心情不错就是晕晕乎乎。
“以后干嘛?”安迪说。“参军?”
斯蒂芬摇了摇头,这让他的头更晕了。“我可不干为钱卖命的活儿。我想做那种能下下棋、吃点好东西的工作,就像游船上的乘客那样,也不用为未来担心。”
在下一个街角,安迪瞥见了乌鸦人委员会的招募事务所,他把斯蒂芬带进去,把从林氏姐妹那儿听来的小道消息告诉他:它们只雇双胞胎,而且给他们干上五分钟的活儿,得到的报酬就是技工单日工资的三倍。那个身形佝偻的乌鸦人测试了他们的脑波,以检验精神敏锐度。斯蒂芬轻松过关;安迪则勉强及格。为了不让安迪泄气,让他能达到那些精明的异星人的要求,斯蒂芬一反常态地没有读合同,而是直接把他俩的大拇指按在了上面。再说,不管那是什么工作,总比在慢速运输船那恶臭的舱室深处无休止地拉动扳手要好。那些大面额支票意味着,在合同完成后,他们将能建立自己的公司——对两人来说都是个更可靠的前景。
有好几天,他们都觉得志得意满,尤其是当他们发现林氏姐妹因为以前犯下的一些小案子而被拒绝的时候。直到集合那天,斯蒂芬才意识到乌鸦人雇他们就是为了把他们分开:斯蒂芬留在人类的一个小空间站上,它会时不时地靠近泛欧洲-天宫八号空间站;安迪则被送往开普勒-48b,那是颗一千光年外的类地行星,那里只有一名公司的乌鸦人。
#
“将杀,”斯蒂芬迅速对安迪说。他朝屏幕打着手势,把自己的炮向着前方下滑一层,结束了棋局。在乌鸦人的注视下,他往剃光的头皮上抹了点传导啫喱,然后钻入了神经交互头盔。
乌鸦人这个不吉利的绰号来自于它们的外表——骨瘦如柴的身躯上罩一件黑色斗篷。即便它们与人类五十年来一直断断续续合作,振兴了地球经济,也没能摆脱这个绰号。斯蒂芬读过一些近期的胚种论研究,这些研究指出乌鸦人和地球人有共同祖先。他不想相信这种说法,虽然他很钦佩乌鸦人在完成项目时的勤奋态度。
传送过程一如既往,简单,害怕。乌鸦人开始检查运货单,斯蒂芬的心脏开始加快速度跳动:货物是种子和肥料,用在一颗乌鸦人委员会新近宣称占有的行星“地球化”工作。到乌鸦人戴上那细长耳机开始调整设置的时候,斯蒂芬已经冒了一身汗。机器人们把一只大号运输用集装箱放在了传送平台上。
乌鸦人举起一只包裹在黑色紧身衣下面的拳头,随后又将手放低,发出传送启动的信号。
斯蒂芬深吸一口气,感觉脑袋炸了开来。
星星的尖啸,光线的阵列,他在虚空中毫无方向地打滚旋转,在群星之间疾驰,越过漩涡般的星系,跌跌撞撞,翻腾扭转,永无止息。孤寂碾碎了他,空虚像个哀号的鬼魂般在他脑海发出尖叫。他是孩子,是婴儿,是蛋,是原子。
宇宙收缩,原初和终点在时间之始统一。
时间似乎并未过去,又像是经过了永恒,斯蒂芬在疼痛中重生。他随波逐流,痛苦灼烧着他的大脑。
在这更小的、刚刚创造出的宇宙中,乌鸦人的意识是一座雾气蒙蒙的灰色大桥,笼罩在斯蒂芬极度痛苦的核心之上。云雾般的环带横跨太阳系,虚无缥缈,无所不在但却微弱,那是一条穿越新生宇宙的大道,通往乌鸦人同伴的所在之处。
在煎熬中,斯蒂芬的大脑投出一道狭如芦苇的细带,一条狂乱盘旋的橘色钓线,在乌鸦人那阴沉的灰色大道中寻找着某样东西——找什么?
历经数个纪元,他想到了:小弟。他强迫自己忽略痛苦,搜寻他的双胞胎弟弟,那个冒失又爱玩闹的灵魂,它早已成为自己无法割舍的一部分。
他在云雾中挣扎前行,穿过空间/时间的虚空,搜索着远处代表安迪的橘色小点。他发现了它,费力地朝那儿爬去。在那一刻,他是一颗电子,寻找着电子对中的另一颗,它们之间的量子链就和宇宙一样古老。他慢慢地靠近安迪,近到足以感受他的孤单和恐惧。他伸出手,和安迪的手相触。
在那一刻,他们成了一个整体,像双胞胎兄弟般亲密如一。
在那一刻,货物从乌鸦—人类两对双胞胎组合开启的星际隧道中传送了出去。装货箱从斯蒂芬这一端的中心平台上消失,出现在了安迪那端,很快,开普勒基地数量众多的机器人就会对它进行拆包。
#
斯蒂芬渐渐醒来,发现自己瘫倒在控制椅上,乌鸦人已经回自己房间去了。屏幕暗着。他扯下头盔,随它掉在地上,旁边是乌鸦人丢掉的耳机。他抓过放在椅子底下的毛巾,把头上的传导啫喱和汗液擦干净。他想象着安迪正在做同样的事。
昏眩、恶心,还有徘徊不去的疼痛,要过段时间它们才会平息。为了帮乌鸦人开拓殖民地,他刚才把自己的生命、自己的意识,以及灵魂的一部分交付了出去。他擦了擦脸,查了下轨道,意识到泛欧洲-天宫八号飘近了。今晚他会前往那里,把报酬中的大部分都花掉,以便忘记刚才的体验。他无法想象,安迪要怎么应付这一切。他的小弟是那种“活在当下”的人,比起斯蒂芬,传送的痛苦对他而言更甚。而且安迪在开普勒-48b上是完全与世隔绝的——直到明天跟斯蒂芬进行热身活动之前,他都不会跟人类有任何接触。
过了一会儿,斯蒂芬吃了根蛋白质条,随后强迫自己站起来。乌鸦人睡觉时,就该轮到斯蒂芬做研究了。他自己的头盔组件用的是人类的神经科技,说明文档很详尽,但要弄明白乌鸦人的耳机是怎么回事,他还需要很多时间。
倒计时器上的读数显示着17年6天4小时。
#
四年过去了。斯蒂芬研究完了那副耳机,已经明白乌鸦人是怎么运用量子纠缠从而在宇宙间互相连接。乌鸦人使用人类对它们模糊的信号进行微调,这一过程极其痛苦,但也是货物传送所必需的。不过,斯蒂芬对乌鸦人的神经科技了解得还不够,不足以让他完成调查。
在每天自动开始的五分钟对话中,斯蒂芬试图不去注意安迪磕磕绊绊的话语和那些无效棋步——安迪颤抖的手在屏幕上划错棋子的次数越来越多了。他频繁地把好东西偷运给安迪:酒精和兴奋剂。他对安迪做的甜蛋糕毫不吝惜溢美之词,即便安迪已经没什么兴趣做蛋糕了。从他不情不愿地发来的那些健康状况报告上看,他的压力水平正飞速上涨。
他们经常讨论把安迪偷送回地球的事情。但是,就算他们能背着乌鸦人启动传送系统,几乎也肯定会被逮住。后果在那张为期二十年的合同上写得很清楚——而且几则新闻故事也证实了这一点——安迪(可能也包括斯蒂芬)将会在某座火星监狱里完成合同剩下的部分,他们基本上会死在那儿。
#
到了第五年的年末,安迪打算冒险了。他请求斯蒂芬的帮助。尽管现在的安迪已经一次睡不到四小时,头发也变白了,斯蒂芬还是一次次地拒绝他的请求。
每日会话的屏幕启动了。“我把它杀了!”安迪的眼神满是狂乱。
“让我看,小弟,”斯蒂芬指示道。他的心脏砰砰直跳。
安迪的手指伸向屏幕,调整摄像头的角度。一片血肉模糊。
斯蒂芬试图掩饰内心不断增长的恐慌。
安迪的乌鸦老板躺倒在控制台旁边的地上,它的耳机还戴在狭窄的头骨上,胸口被砸出一个洞,鲜血喷涌而出。一把血淋淋的扳手掉在一旁。“我实在忍不住了。它把灰色的云塞进我的脑袋,还有我的梦里!”安迪的双手紧紧抓住椅背,力道大得让塑料泡沫凹陷了下去。一只医疗机器人驶进了画面。
“它还活着!”斯蒂芬对扩音器喊道。“让机器人维持住它的心跳。要是乌鸦人死了,下一个就是你!”作为开普勒-48b上剩下的唯一知觉生命,安迪的罪行确凿无疑——即使是由地球法庭来审判。谋杀会被处以注射死刑。
斯蒂芬紧张地看着,同时感到惊讶,尽管乌鸦人已失去意识,屏幕还是保持在连接状态。
过了会儿,安迪遵从了大哥的建议。乌鸦人受的伤很严重:肋骨,手臂和腿都断了。斯蒂芬想着,在自动会话开始前的四分钟里,安迪是不是一直在殴打那个失去意识的乌鸦人。他不敢问。
坐在斯蒂芬旁边的乌鸦人被惊呆了。它的手伸向控制台,显然是想呼叫警卫。
斯蒂芬将椅子转向乌鸦人,猛地冲上前。他握住异星人的喉咙,用尽全力掐下去。直到乌鸦人整个瘫软,他才松手。
他让自己的医疗机器人维持住失去意识的乌鸦人的生命体征,就像开普勒上的医疗机器人对被安迪攻击的乌鸦人所做的一样。
到下一次会话时罪行就会暴露,他还剩二十四小时。他拿走乌鸦人的耳机,开始对它的大脑进行核磁共振扫描。
#
在第二天的会话开始之前,斯蒂芬转动气闸,打开了空间站的门。“希望你的胖脑袋能戴得上去,”他对林氏姐妹的其中一个说,边把扎着导管的乌鸦人耳机递给她。“还有你的,”他对另一个说,给她的是他花了几小时勉强弄出来的复制品。
两个胖乎乎的女人笑了笑,用沾满油迹的手把改装过的耳机戴到头上。在斯蒂芬签下合同的八年里,地球经济愈发衰退。姐妹俩很乐意住到小空间站里给斯蒂芬打工,即便只能拿到半薪。
斯蒂芬拿着他的粗布包,爬进运输箱,然后给自己打了一针。用的药跟八年前安迪前往开普勒-48b时使用的一样。在此之前,安迪的乌鸦老板已经先他一步,孤单地跨越了这段痛苦的旅程。
他在开普勒基地醒过来,看见安迪掀开箱盖。他的小弟衰老的样子就像他们父亲临终的样子,但至少,他还活着。斯蒂芬临时赶制出的耳机起作用了。
他们快速拥抱了一下。
开普勒基地里有臭汗和糖烧焦的味道。斯蒂芬第一次意识到空间站很不牢靠,用的材料也很劣质,是乌鸦人进行“地球化”工程的临时场所。酸正在侵蚀这座建筑,还有那些朝向贫瘠地面的窗户。
#
到第二天的会话时间,斯蒂芬有机会来验证他的推测。他从粗布包里取出一枚软件芯片,把它插进安迪臭烘烘的头盔里。他把头盔扣到不省人事的乌鸦人头上,之前在地球空间站,他对自己的头盔也如法炮制。
斯蒂芬站在安迪的椅子后面,他俩都戴上了抹过啫喱的乌鸦人耳机。在他旁边,乌鸦人因为戴上了安迪的头盔而脑袋耷拉着。斯蒂芬看着屏幕,林氏姐妹正指示机器人们把运输箱装到平台上。
他键入指令,云团随即在头脑中成形,胀鼓鼓的,味道很奇怪,闻起来像桃子。安迪漂浮在他身侧,他们一起沿着一座轻薄的橘色大桥向前。大桥宽阔而优美,穿过缩小的宇宙,通往地球。经过一段长长的、愉快的旅程,他们的云团和林氏姐妹生成的淡黄色大桥融合了。斯蒂芬的血液微微刺痛,像是红酒注入了他的血管。一旁的安迪愉悦地笑了。
斯蒂芬沿着橘色的大桥回望。一条粗糙的黑线颤动着接近,随即越过他:那是身在开普勒、戴着改装过的头盔的乌鸦人的意识。另一条同样不甚稳定的线从地球的方向靠过来。在两线相触前的一刻他想着,是否那两个乌鸦人正在体验强烈的痛苦和孤寂,就像他和安迪以前体验到的那样。他抛开这一想法,转而沉浸在有兄弟陪伴的亲密感里。
两条黑线相触。黑暗,然后是一道奇妙的闪光,宇宙重生了。
很快,传送就已完成,他们的意识回到了开普勒基地的躯体中。
#
随着一声满足的叹息,斯蒂芬走出一步飞将,他得意洋洋,啪地一声放下那枚塑料片。“将杀,”他说。
坐在桌子对面的安迪咧嘴笑着认输。他用几乎不再颤抖的手举起茶杯,啜了一口。
乌鸦人的生命支持系统发出令人安心的哔哔声。
过去的几个月里,他们处在惬意的与世隔绝状态,离任何地方都有一千光年远。斯蒂芬把自己对耳机和乌鸦人的神经科技的一切所知都教给了安迪。他们用神经类固醇药物继续着实验,希望最终能不用亲自为乌鸦人卖力。斯蒂芬很满意安迪在课程上的进展。
对开普勒基地的调查显示,要过六百年,地球化工程才能制造出宜居世界。合同结束后,他们要对乌鸦人委员会坦承罪状,面对死刑。
斯蒂芬扫了眼计时器:还剩下11年,2个月,2天。
安迪也教会了他点东西:每分钟都应该尽情享受。未来不再有恐惧。
斯蒂芬咀嚼着甜蛋糕,每一口都可口无比。
「完」
—————————————————————————--
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By Holly Schofield
Translate By Noc
2015-03
彗星科幻
Stephen looks up from the console screen where the 3D chess game is displayed. The countdown clock reads 17 years, 6 days, and 5 hours left. "Horse to D7-2."
A thousand light-years away, his younger twin brother Andy (a full two minutes younger), chases the horse with a cannon along the tri-level virtual chessboard. "Check, big brother." His voice whispers through the speaker.
Stephen grins. "You should have more patience, little brother, like a general." He takes a bite of Andy's sugar cake, which Andy smuggled to him yesterday.
"You are as timid as a rat, Stephen." Andy's usually cheerful banter is listless. "Almost time for the transfer," he adds.
Stephen's alien Crow boss slides into the seat beside him, readying its headset for the shipment transfer. Across the heavens, Andy's own Crow boss will be doing the same.
The Crow's eyes catch Stephen's, black and glittering. It dislikes that the two brothers spend the daily 5-minute warm-up period that precedes a shipment playing chess and exchanging friendly insults. Stephen has nightmares about what it would do if it knew about their smuggling.
The twenty-year contract with the Crows that Stephen and Andy have signed is a result of Andy's impulsiveness, a spur-of-the-moment decision as they strolled past hucksters and hawkers down the main walkway of the PanEuro-TianGong8 space station, their wage chits from the Terra-Mars shipping run bulging in their pockets. After a drinking session with some shipmates, including the chatty Lin sisters (the only other set of twins they know), they had headed out onto the moving sidewalks. Unaccustomed to the local bootleg brew, Stephen had felt happy but muzzy.
"What next?" Andy had said. "Military?"
Stephen had shaken his head, inducing more dizziness. "No mercenary gigs for me. I want something where I can play chess and eat rich food, like a cruise ship passenger, and not worry about the future."
Andy spied the Council of Crows' recruiting office on the next corner and steered Stephen inside, saying the Lin sisters had told him rumors: how they only hire pairs of twins, how five-minutes' work pays triple a mechanic's daily wage. The hunched Crow tested their brain waves for mental acumen. Stephen passed handily; Andy was border-line. To bolster Andy's ego at being acceptable to the clever aliens, Stephen had pressed both their thumbs to the contract, uncharacteristically not reading it. Besides, anything was better than endlessly pulling wrenches in the fetid bowels of the slow transport spaceships. The large paychecks would mean they could set up a business when the contract is finished--a solid future for them both.
For days, they both felt triumphant, especially when they found out the Lin sisters had been turned down for past minor criminal offenses. It wasn't until the mustering day that Stephen realized Andrew and he had been hired by the Crows only so they could be split apart: Stephen to remain on a small Terran space station that occasionally passes near PanEuro-TianGong8; Andy being sent to a base on Kepler-48b, an Earth-like planet over 1,000 light-years away, with only a Crow for company.
#
"Checkmate," Stephen quickly tells Andy, gesturing at the screen to slide his own cannon forward and down a level to complete the game. Under the Crow's glare, he smears conductive gel across his shaven scalp and slips on the neuro-helmet.
The Crows' appearance--black cloaks over thin-boned frames--has given them their unfortunate nickname, even as their uneasy fifty-year interaction with humans has pumped up the ailing Terran economies. Stephen has read some recent panspermia research that indicates both Crows and Terrans share common ancestors. He chooses not to believe it, although he admires the Crows' diligence in completing projects.
As always, the transfer process is both simple and terrifying. Stephen's heart begins to thump as the Crow checks the manifest: seeds and fertilizer for the "terraforming" of the Council of Crows' newly claimed planet. Stephen breaks into a sweat as the Crow puts on its slender headset and adjusts the settings. Robots place a large shipping container on the transfer platform.
The Crow raises a black-clad fist, then lowers it, signalling its initiation of the transfer process.
Stephen takes a deep breath and feels his brain explode.
A cacophony of stars, a cavalcade of lights, he turns, cartwheeling end-over-end in nothingness, spinning between stars, past swirling galaxies, tumbling, rolling, twisting, without end. The loneliness crushes him, the emptiness shrieks through his mind like a wailing ghost. He is a child, a baby, an egg, an atom.
The cosmos shrinks, origin and destination unified at the beginning of time.
After no time at all, and an eternity, Stephen is reborn into pain. He drifts. Agony sears his brain.
In the smaller, newly created universe, the Crow's mind extends through and beyond Stephen's anguished core, a foggy gray bridge. The cloud-like band spans solar systems, amorphous, prevalent yet weak, a broad pathway through the infant heavens, leading to its Crow mate.
In torment, Stephen's mind casts a reed-thin strip, an orange-colored fishing line spiraling desperately, seeking something--what?--amid the dismal grey path of the Crow.
Eons later, he thinks: little brother. He forces himself to ignore the pain, to seek out his twin brother, the impetuous, fun-loving soul that is so much a part of him.
He struggles along the cloud, across the void that is space/time, searching for Andy's orange-colored speck in the distance. He spies it and, arduously crawls toward it. In that instant, he is an electron seeking its twin, connecting by a quantum link as old as the universe. Slowly he draws near enough to sense Andy's terror and isolation. He reaches out and Andy's hand meets his.
In that instant, they are as one, as close as twin brothers can be.
In that instant, the shipment is transferred through the interstellar channel that the Crow-human twinning has opened. The crate on the hub platform disappears from Stephen's side and appears on Andy's, soon to be unpacked by one of the Kepler base's many robots.
#
Stephen grows aware he is slumped in his console chair and the Crow has withdrawn to its quarters. The screen is dark. He drags off his helmet, letting it fall to the floor beside the Crow's discarded headset. He grabs the towel he keeps under the chair and mops the conductive gel and the sweat from his head. He pictures Andy doing the same.
The dizziness, nausea, and lingering pain take time to subside. He had just given a part of his life, his mind, and his soul in order to help the Crows' colonization efforts. He scrubs his face, checks orbits, and realizes that PanEuro-TianGong8 has swung close by. He will head there tonight and spend most of his pay, attempting to forget the sensations he just experienced. He cannot imagine how Andy copes. His little brother lives "in the moment", suffering transfer agony to an even greater degree than Stephen. And Andy's isolation on Kepler-48b is total--he will have no human contact until the warm-up session with Stephen tomorrow.
After a while, Stephen eats a protein bar then forces himself to stand. When the Crow sleeps is Stephen's time to do his research. The components of his own helmet utilize well-documented human neurology but the Crow's headset is taking him much longer to understand.
The countdown clock reads 17 years, 6 days, and 4 hours.
#
Four years pass. Stephen has studied the headset and has a theory about the Crows' use of quantum entanglement to connect across the cosmos. The Crows use the humans for the agonizing fine-tuning of the Crow's fuzzier signals, necessary for shipment transmissions. However, Stephen does not know enough about Crow neurology to finish his investigation.
In their five-minute automated daily sessions, Stephen tries to ignore Andy's stammering speech and the invalid chess moves as Andy's trembling hand more and more slides a piece incorrectly across the screen. Frequently, he smuggles treats to Andy: alcohol and uppers. He waxes poetic about the sugar cakes Andy sends in return, even as Andy loses interest in making them. Andy reluctantly sends medical updates showing his stress levels are sky-rocketing.
They often discuss smuggling Andy back to Terra. Even if they could rig the transfer process to work without the Crow's involvement, there is little doubt they will get caught. Shipments are precisely calibrated for mass and volume. The 20-year contract's stated penalty, reinforced by several news stories, is that Andy, and likely Stephen too, would finish the remainder of the contract in a Mars jail, where death is almost certain.
#
By the end of the fifth year, Andy is willing to take the risk. He pleads for Stephen's help. Over and over, Stephen refuses although Andy can no longer sleep more than four hours at a time and his hair has turned gray.
The screen opens for the daily session. "I've killed it!" Andy's eyes are wild.
"Show me, little brother," Stephen instructs, heart thumping.
Andy's fingers reach near the screen to adjust the camera's view. They are bloody.
Stephen tries to mask his growing horror.
Andy's Crow boss sprawls on the floor near the console, its headset still affixed to its narrow skull. Its chest is smashed open, blood spurting out. A bloodied wrench lies nearby. "I couldn't help it. It put gray clouds in my mind, in my dreams!" Andy's hands grip the seatback hard enough to dent the plasti-foam. A medical robot rolls into view.
"It's still alive!" Stephen shouts into the microphone. "Tell the medi-bot to hook up a heart pump. If the Crow dies, you will be next!" As the only remaining sentient being on Kepler-48b, Andy's guilt will not be disputed, even by the Terran courts. The penalty for murder is lethal injection.
Stephen watches tensely, surprised that the screen is still connected despite the Crow's unconscious state.
After a moment, Andy follows his older brother's advice. The Crow's damage is extensive: ribs, arms, and legs are broken. Stephen wonders if Andy kept beating the unconscious Crow during the four minutes before the automatic session opened. He doesn't ask.
The Crow seated next to Stephen has been frozen in shock. It reaches for the console, its intentions of calling security staff clear.
Stephen swivels his chair toward the Crow and lunges. His hands grip the alien's throat and he squeezes with all his power. He stops when the Crow grows limp.
He lets his medi-bot stabilize the unconscious Crow, much as the Kepler medi-bot is doing to the Crow that Andy attacked.
He has twenty-four hours before the next session will reveal their crimes. He removes the Crow's headset and begins an fMRI brain scan.
#
Just before the next day's session, Stephen cranks open the station airlock. "I hope this fits your fat head," he tells one of the Lin sisters, handing her the duct-taped Crow headset. "And yours," he tells the second sister, giving her the cobbled-together replica he has spent hours crafting.
The two chubby women smile and place the modified headsets over their temples with grease-stained hands. The Terran economies have slumped even further in the eight years since Stephen signed the contract. The sisters are happy to live in the small space station, happy to be employed by Stephen, even at half-pay.
Stephen climbs into the shipping crate with his duffel bag before injecting himself. He uses the same drug Andy used to travel to Kepler-48b eight years ago to join the Crow that had undergone the painful journey alone beforehand. The drug will ensure Stephen sleeps during the trip.
He awakens at the Kepler base when Andy opens the lid of the crate. His little brother looks as old as their father had on his deathbed but, at least, he is alive. And Stephen's jury-rigged headsets have worked.
They hug one another briefly.
The Kepler base smells of stale sweat and burned sugar. Stephen realizes for the first time that the station is flimsy, the materials shoddy, made to be temporary during the Crows' "terraforming". Acid eats away at the building, etching the windows that look onto a barren landscape.
#
It is not until the next day's session that Stephen can test his theory. He takes a software chip from his duffel and plugs it into Andy's foul-smelling helmet. He jams it on the unconscious Crow, just as he had done with his own helmet back on the Terran space station.
Stephen stands behind Andy's chair as they both don juiced-up Crow headsets. Beside him, the Crow's head lolls as Andy's helmet drags it down. On the screen, he watches the Lin sisters instruct the robots to load a crate on the platform.
He enters a command and a cloud forms in his mind, puffy and smelling oddly like peaches. Andy floats at his side and together they are travelling along a frothy orange bridge, wide and beautiful, through the shrunken universe toward Terra. After a long, pleasant journey, their cloud mingles with the pale yellow bridge the Lin sisters have generated. Stephen's blood tingles as if wine has been injected into his veins. Beside him, Andy laughs in joy.
Stephen glances back along the tangerine-hued expanse. A harsh black line wobbles toward him and soon passes him: the Kepler Crow's mind in the adapted helmet. Another line, equally unsteady, approaches from the direction of Terra. In the last instant before the lines touch, he wonders if the two Crows feel the same intense pain and loneliness that he and Andy felt. He dismisses the thought, caught up in the closeness of his brother's company.
The two black lines touch. Darkness, and a flare of wondrous light, as the universe is reborn.
All too soon, the shipment is completed and their minds return to their bodies at the Kepler base camp.
#
With a sigh of contentment, Stephen executes a flying general move, snapping down the plastic tile triumphantly. "Checkmate," he says.
Andy, across the table, acknowledges the chess win with a grin. He sips his tea with an almost-steady hand.
The Crow's life support system beeps reassuringly.
Over the past few months, in their companionable isolation 1,000 light-years from anywhere, Stephen has taught Andy all he knows about the headsets and Crow neurology. They continue to experiment with neurosteroids, hoping to eventually wean themselves off the Crows' contributions. Stephen is pleased with Andy's ability to follow the training.
Investigation of the Kepler base's reports indicate that the terraforming will not make a habitable world for six hundred years. After the contract ends, they will have to admit their sins to the Council of Crows and face the death penalty.
Stephen glances at the clock: 11 years, 2 months, and 2 days remaining.
Andy has taught him something too: Each minute is to be savored. The future no longer holds fear.
Stephen chews on a sugar cake, relishing each bite.
斯蒂芬抬头看了看控制屏——上面显示着3D象棋的棋局。倒计时器上,时间还剩下17年6天5小时。“马跳到D7-2。”
一千光年外,他的双胞胎弟弟安迪(比他小整两分钟),沿着三维虚拟棋盘用炮追上了那枚马。“将军,大哥。”他透过扬声器悄声说。
斯蒂芬咧嘴笑了。“你应该再耐心点,小弟,得像个将军那样。”他咬了口安迪的椰丝甜蛋糕,那是安迪昨天偷运给他的。
“你胆小得像只老鼠,斯蒂芬。”通常安迪说起俏皮话来总是语气愉悦,今天却无精打采的。“差不多到传送的时候了,”他补充道。
斯蒂芬的外星乌鸦老板滑进他旁边的座位,调整耳机,为货物传送做准备。天空的另一端,安迪自己的乌鸦老板也在做相同的事。
乌鸦人黑而闪亮的眼睛注视着斯蒂芬的双眼。兄弟俩每天在送货前都会花上五分钟下棋和互相打趣,它不怎么喜欢这种热身。要是它知道他们在私自偷运东西,肯定会惩罚他们——想到这个,斯蒂芬有时会做噩梦。
斯蒂芬和安迪跟乌鸦人签下为期二十年的合同,是因为安迪一时冲动。那时他们正沿着泛欧洲-天宫八号空间站的主干道漫步,路两旁是大声叫卖的推销员和小贩,他们口袋里塞得鼓鼓囊囊全是从地球往火星运货所得的工资。跟同船船员——包括那两个饶舌的林氏姐妹(除了他们自己,他们只认识这对双胞胎)——喝了几顿后,兄弟俩踏上了移动人行道。
斯蒂芬不太适应当地的非法私酿,心情不错就是晕晕乎乎。
“以后干嘛?”安迪说。“参军?”
斯蒂芬摇了摇头,这让他的头更晕了。“我可不干为钱卖命的活儿。我想做那种能下下棋、吃点好东西的工作,就像游船上的乘客那样,也不用为未来担心。”
在下一个街角,安迪瞥见了乌鸦人委员会的招募事务所,他把斯蒂芬带进去,把从林氏姐妹那儿听来的小道消息告诉他:它们只雇双胞胎,而且给他们干上五分钟的活儿,得到的报酬就是技工单日工资的三倍。那个身形佝偻的乌鸦人测试了他们的脑波,以检验精神敏锐度。斯蒂芬轻松过关;安迪则勉强及格。为了不让安迪泄气,让他能达到那些精明的异星人的要求,斯蒂芬一反常态地没有读合同,而是直接把他俩的大拇指按在了上面。再说,不管那是什么工作,总比在慢速运输船那恶臭的舱室深处无休止地拉动扳手要好。那些大面额支票意味着,在合同完成后,他们将能建立自己的公司——对两人来说都是个更可靠的前景。
有好几天,他们都觉得志得意满,尤其是当他们发现林氏姐妹因为以前犯下的一些小案子而被拒绝的时候。直到集合那天,斯蒂芬才意识到乌鸦人雇他们就是为了把他们分开:斯蒂芬留在人类的一个小空间站上,它会时不时地靠近泛欧洲-天宫八号空间站;安迪则被送往开普勒-48b,那是颗一千光年外的类地行星,那里只有一名公司的乌鸦人。
#
“将杀,”斯蒂芬迅速对安迪说。他朝屏幕打着手势,把自己的炮向着前方下滑一层,结束了棋局。在乌鸦人的注视下,他往剃光的头皮上抹了点传导啫喱,然后钻入了神经交互头盔。
乌鸦人这个不吉利的绰号来自于它们的外表——骨瘦如柴的身躯上罩一件黑色斗篷。即便它们与人类五十年来一直断断续续合作,振兴了地球经济,也没能摆脱这个绰号。斯蒂芬读过一些近期的胚种论研究,这些研究指出乌鸦人和地球人有共同祖先。他不想相信这种说法,虽然他很钦佩乌鸦人在完成项目时的勤奋态度。
传送过程一如既往,简单,害怕。乌鸦人开始检查运货单,斯蒂芬的心脏开始加快速度跳动:货物是种子和肥料,用在一颗乌鸦人委员会新近宣称占有的行星“地球化”工作。到乌鸦人戴上那细长耳机开始调整设置的时候,斯蒂芬已经冒了一身汗。机器人们把一只大号运输用集装箱放在了传送平台上。
乌鸦人举起一只包裹在黑色紧身衣下面的拳头,随后又将手放低,发出传送启动的信号。
斯蒂芬深吸一口气,感觉脑袋炸了开来。
星星的尖啸,光线的阵列,他在虚空中毫无方向地打滚旋转,在群星之间疾驰,越过漩涡般的星系,跌跌撞撞,翻腾扭转,永无止息。孤寂碾碎了他,空虚像个哀号的鬼魂般在他脑海发出尖叫。他是孩子,是婴儿,是蛋,是原子。
宇宙收缩,原初和终点在时间之始统一。
时间似乎并未过去,又像是经过了永恒,斯蒂芬在疼痛中重生。他随波逐流,痛苦灼烧着他的大脑。
在这更小的、刚刚创造出的宇宙中,乌鸦人的意识是一座雾气蒙蒙的灰色大桥,笼罩在斯蒂芬极度痛苦的核心之上。云雾般的环带横跨太阳系,虚无缥缈,无所不在但却微弱,那是一条穿越新生宇宙的大道,通往乌鸦人同伴的所在之处。
在煎熬中,斯蒂芬的大脑投出一道狭如芦苇的细带,一条狂乱盘旋的橘色钓线,在乌鸦人那阴沉的灰色大道中寻找着某样东西——找什么?
历经数个纪元,他想到了:小弟。他强迫自己忽略痛苦,搜寻他的双胞胎弟弟,那个冒失又爱玩闹的灵魂,它早已成为自己无法割舍的一部分。
他在云雾中挣扎前行,穿过空间/时间的虚空,搜索着远处代表安迪的橘色小点。他发现了它,费力地朝那儿爬去。在那一刻,他是一颗电子,寻找着电子对中的另一颗,它们之间的量子链就和宇宙一样古老。他慢慢地靠近安迪,近到足以感受他的孤单和恐惧。他伸出手,和安迪的手相触。
在那一刻,他们成了一个整体,像双胞胎兄弟般亲密如一。
在那一刻,货物从乌鸦—人类两对双胞胎组合开启的星际隧道中传送了出去。装货箱从斯蒂芬这一端的中心平台上消失,出现在了安迪那端,很快,开普勒基地数量众多的机器人就会对它进行拆包。
#
斯蒂芬渐渐醒来,发现自己瘫倒在控制椅上,乌鸦人已经回自己房间去了。屏幕暗着。他扯下头盔,随它掉在地上,旁边是乌鸦人丢掉的耳机。他抓过放在椅子底下的毛巾,把头上的传导啫喱和汗液擦干净。他想象着安迪正在做同样的事。
昏眩、恶心,还有徘徊不去的疼痛,要过段时间它们才会平息。为了帮乌鸦人开拓殖民地,他刚才把自己的生命、自己的意识,以及灵魂的一部分交付了出去。他擦了擦脸,查了下轨道,意识到泛欧洲-天宫八号飘近了。今晚他会前往那里,把报酬中的大部分都花掉,以便忘记刚才的体验。他无法想象,安迪要怎么应付这一切。他的小弟是那种“活在当下”的人,比起斯蒂芬,传送的痛苦对他而言更甚。而且安迪在开普勒-48b上是完全与世隔绝的——直到明天跟斯蒂芬进行热身活动之前,他都不会跟人类有任何接触。
过了一会儿,斯蒂芬吃了根蛋白质条,随后强迫自己站起来。乌鸦人睡觉时,就该轮到斯蒂芬做研究了。他自己的头盔组件用的是人类的神经科技,说明文档很详尽,但要弄明白乌鸦人的耳机是怎么回事,他还需要很多时间。
倒计时器上的读数显示着17年6天4小时。
#
四年过去了。斯蒂芬研究完了那副耳机,已经明白乌鸦人是怎么运用量子纠缠从而在宇宙间互相连接。乌鸦人使用人类对它们模糊的信号进行微调,这一过程极其痛苦,但也是货物传送所必需的。不过,斯蒂芬对乌鸦人的神经科技了解得还不够,不足以让他完成调查。
在每天自动开始的五分钟对话中,斯蒂芬试图不去注意安迪磕磕绊绊的话语和那些无效棋步——安迪颤抖的手在屏幕上划错棋子的次数越来越多了。他频繁地把好东西偷运给安迪:酒精和兴奋剂。他对安迪做的甜蛋糕毫不吝惜溢美之词,即便安迪已经没什么兴趣做蛋糕了。从他不情不愿地发来的那些健康状况报告上看,他的压力水平正飞速上涨。
他们经常讨论把安迪偷送回地球的事情。但是,就算他们能背着乌鸦人启动传送系统,几乎也肯定会被逮住。后果在那张为期二十年的合同上写得很清楚——而且几则新闻故事也证实了这一点——安迪(可能也包括斯蒂芬)将会在某座火星监狱里完成合同剩下的部分,他们基本上会死在那儿。
#
到了第五年的年末,安迪打算冒险了。他请求斯蒂芬的帮助。尽管现在的安迪已经一次睡不到四小时,头发也变白了,斯蒂芬还是一次次地拒绝他的请求。
每日会话的屏幕启动了。“我把它杀了!”安迪的眼神满是狂乱。
“让我看,小弟,”斯蒂芬指示道。他的心脏砰砰直跳。
安迪的手指伸向屏幕,调整摄像头的角度。一片血肉模糊。
斯蒂芬试图掩饰内心不断增长的恐慌。
安迪的乌鸦老板躺倒在控制台旁边的地上,它的耳机还戴在狭窄的头骨上,胸口被砸出一个洞,鲜血喷涌而出。一把血淋淋的扳手掉在一旁。“我实在忍不住了。它把灰色的云塞进我的脑袋,还有我的梦里!”安迪的双手紧紧抓住椅背,力道大得让塑料泡沫凹陷了下去。一只医疗机器人驶进了画面。
“它还活着!”斯蒂芬对扩音器喊道。“让机器人维持住它的心跳。要是乌鸦人死了,下一个就是你!”作为开普勒-48b上剩下的唯一知觉生命,安迪的罪行确凿无疑——即使是由地球法庭来审判。谋杀会被处以注射死刑。
斯蒂芬紧张地看着,同时感到惊讶,尽管乌鸦人已失去意识,屏幕还是保持在连接状态。
过了会儿,安迪遵从了大哥的建议。乌鸦人受的伤很严重:肋骨,手臂和腿都断了。斯蒂芬想着,在自动会话开始前的四分钟里,安迪是不是一直在殴打那个失去意识的乌鸦人。他不敢问。
坐在斯蒂芬旁边的乌鸦人被惊呆了。它的手伸向控制台,显然是想呼叫警卫。
斯蒂芬将椅子转向乌鸦人,猛地冲上前。他握住异星人的喉咙,用尽全力掐下去。直到乌鸦人整个瘫软,他才松手。
他让自己的医疗机器人维持住失去意识的乌鸦人的生命体征,就像开普勒上的医疗机器人对被安迪攻击的乌鸦人所做的一样。
到下一次会话时罪行就会暴露,他还剩二十四小时。他拿走乌鸦人的耳机,开始对它的大脑进行核磁共振扫描。
#
在第二天的会话开始之前,斯蒂芬转动气闸,打开了空间站的门。“希望你的胖脑袋能戴得上去,”他对林氏姐妹的其中一个说,边把扎着导管的乌鸦人耳机递给她。“还有你的,”他对另一个说,给她的是他花了几小时勉强弄出来的复制品。
两个胖乎乎的女人笑了笑,用沾满油迹的手把改装过的耳机戴到头上。在斯蒂芬签下合同的八年里,地球经济愈发衰退。姐妹俩很乐意住到小空间站里给斯蒂芬打工,即便只能拿到半薪。
斯蒂芬拿着他的粗布包,爬进运输箱,然后给自己打了一针。用的药跟八年前安迪前往开普勒-48b时使用的一样。在此之前,安迪的乌鸦老板已经先他一步,孤单地跨越了这段痛苦的旅程。
他在开普勒基地醒过来,看见安迪掀开箱盖。他的小弟衰老的样子就像他们父亲临终的样子,但至少,他还活着。斯蒂芬临时赶制出的耳机起作用了。
他们快速拥抱了一下。
开普勒基地里有臭汗和糖烧焦的味道。斯蒂芬第一次意识到空间站很不牢靠,用的材料也很劣质,是乌鸦人进行“地球化”工程的临时场所。酸正在侵蚀这座建筑,还有那些朝向贫瘠地面的窗户。
#
到第二天的会话时间,斯蒂芬有机会来验证他的推测。他从粗布包里取出一枚软件芯片,把它插进安迪臭烘烘的头盔里。他把头盔扣到不省人事的乌鸦人头上,之前在地球空间站,他对自己的头盔也如法炮制。
斯蒂芬站在安迪的椅子后面,他俩都戴上了抹过啫喱的乌鸦人耳机。在他旁边,乌鸦人因为戴上了安迪的头盔而脑袋耷拉着。斯蒂芬看着屏幕,林氏姐妹正指示机器人们把运输箱装到平台上。
他键入指令,云团随即在头脑中成形,胀鼓鼓的,味道很奇怪,闻起来像桃子。安迪漂浮在他身侧,他们一起沿着一座轻薄的橘色大桥向前。大桥宽阔而优美,穿过缩小的宇宙,通往地球。经过一段长长的、愉快的旅程,他们的云团和林氏姐妹生成的淡黄色大桥融合了。斯蒂芬的血液微微刺痛,像是红酒注入了他的血管。一旁的安迪愉悦地笑了。
斯蒂芬沿着橘色的大桥回望。一条粗糙的黑线颤动着接近,随即越过他:那是身在开普勒、戴着改装过的头盔的乌鸦人的意识。另一条同样不甚稳定的线从地球的方向靠过来。在两线相触前的一刻他想着,是否那两个乌鸦人正在体验强烈的痛苦和孤寂,就像他和安迪以前体验到的那样。他抛开这一想法,转而沉浸在有兄弟陪伴的亲密感里。
两条黑线相触。黑暗,然后是一道奇妙的闪光,宇宙重生了。
很快,传送就已完成,他们的意识回到了开普勒基地的躯体中。
#
随着一声满足的叹息,斯蒂芬走出一步飞将,他得意洋洋,啪地一声放下那枚塑料片。“将杀,”他说。
坐在桌子对面的安迪咧嘴笑着认输。他用几乎不再颤抖的手举起茶杯,啜了一口。
乌鸦人的生命支持系统发出令人安心的哔哔声。
过去的几个月里,他们处在惬意的与世隔绝状态,离任何地方都有一千光年远。斯蒂芬把自己对耳机和乌鸦人的神经科技的一切所知都教给了安迪。他们用神经类固醇药物继续着实验,希望最终能不用亲自为乌鸦人卖力。斯蒂芬很满意安迪在课程上的进展。
对开普勒基地的调查显示,要过六百年,地球化工程才能制造出宜居世界。合同结束后,他们要对乌鸦人委员会坦承罪状,面对死刑。
斯蒂芬扫了眼计时器:还剩下11年,2个月,2天。
安迪也教会了他点东西:每分钟都应该尽情享受。未来不再有恐惧。
斯蒂芬咀嚼着甜蛋糕,每一口都可口无比。
「完」
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