变形记 METAMORPHOSIS
By Nancy Fulda
Translate By Joe Nieh
2015-06
彗星科幻
Twelfth-worker catches me on the way to my secret place. I scurry faster when he calls to me, thinking to lose him in the maze of crumpled metal, but his claws cling as tightly as mine – scampering past jagged edges and along the underside of arches. I do not try to lead him astray. Ordinarily I would turn aside, return to the surface. But there is no time.
He pulls abreast as I near my masterpiece. “Fifth-worker,” he says. “Where are you going? Our task is above-ground.”
I shake my head and press forward with all ten legs.
The air is strange in these tunnels. The Hivemother seldom sends her children this direction, and so the scent and press of bodies is absent. Ancient metal warps the fields of the planet. I feel it, in my gut, in the organ cluster where the Hivemother speaks. As I climb past the wreckage her touch quivers, distorting like reflections in water.
“Fifth-worker!”
I scurry around the last curve. Twelfth-worker follows with agitated motions. He is younger than I, born of the twelfth egg-cluster, like a hundred others who bear his name. His voice trails around the corner. “Is it the offworlders? You should not let them upset you so. They—”
I have reached the cavern. My breath sucks into my lungs.
It is there, just as the offworlder said it would be. Just as I knew it would be, without knowing how I knew. It hangs from the ceiling, made from interlacing bands of metal. It is not yet complete. The construction is open on one side, cables snaking into empty air. A pile of scavenged metal lies nearby.
“…will all be gone after the Unity,” Twelfth-worker says, following me around the corner. “A new dawn approaches. All will be well.” He sees my project and stops talking. I can almost feel his mind working, struggling to shape itself around new thoughts.
“Do you ever wonder?” I ask quietly. “Do you wonder how life would be without the Unity?”
“How can life exist without Unity? The Hivemother’s voice is woven into our hearts. She sings away the shadows, directs her workers to build mighty citadels.”
“But what if?” I persist. “What if sunrise came, and the Hivemother’s touch could not reach us?”
“You are unwell, Fifth-worker. The offworlders have given you strange thoughts; different thoughts. But take courage. The Unity approaches, and the song of the Hivemother will align our minds with her purposes.” He lays a claw on my thorax; a gesture that ought to be comforting. I shudder and pull away.
He is right, of course. The human offworlders have filled me with strange thoughts, things I had never imagined.
The offworlders.
They spoke our language perfectly, and so I know they have come many times before. I do not remember those other visits, which means the Hivemother does not find such thoughts worthy of a drone. I am just a builder, a little thing. My task is to strengthen the hive, not to think and speak with strangers from the sky. And yet… they are fascinating. They spoke to me. Me! As if I were an independent entity, a voice of the Hivemother, or perhaps the Hivemother herself. They behaved as though they knew me, as though we had spoken many times before…
I scale the walls and continue to work on my masterpiece; the hollow bulge that I do not remember building. I see, I climb, I search, I gather. I carry scavenged scraps of wire between my mandibles and clamber over my self-made construction, twisting, tying, bending, biting. My saliva forms the bonds between those elements that will not cling by themselves. I lay the fibers closely, metal touching metal, just as the humans said it must be. It is different, building a pattern I have chosen for myself, rather than the shapes pressed into my mind by the Hivemother. Different, but not distressing. My body knows the motions. I have done this before.
I work quickly, for there is no time. The world spins; a new dawn approaches. Soon the Hivemother’s voice will echo across the planet – a voice of pure energy, rippling through the stuff of existence. I am a builder, and should not understand such things; but the offworlders have shown me differently. When the Hivemother’s voice touches her children, their minds align with hers. Independence and ambition are forgotten. All thoughts not fit for builders are removed.
Twelfth-worker is still calling to me. He has followed me onto the bulging lacework of metal, pelting out questions, but I do not respond. He will soon forget this conversation, just as I have forgotten my masterpiece, over and over again. I am glad the offworlders have chosen to help me. They say the masterpiece was my own idea; that I began it alone, then told my secret as the Unity drew near. I made them promise to remind me of it, over and over again – but it is getting harder for them to find me. I think perhaps the Hivemother realizes this is more than just a random burst of self-expression. That it could change the nature of our species.
“Fifth-worker, please! I want to understand. I need to understand.”
The urgency in his tone makes me pause, finally, in the work that is so very nearly finished. “We are builders,” I tell Twelfth-worker, and wrestle another fiber into place. “But why are we builders? Only because the Hivemother keeps us so.”
“But why—”
“Don’t you wonder if… perhaps we could be something… more?”
Twelfth-worker backs away, feelers waving. “These are strange thoughts. Different thoughts. We should not speak this way.”
I work in silence, wondering if I should say more. I decide it cannot harm. The Hivemother knows, I am certain of it. She will send the humans away, keep them from finding me again. If I do not succeed now, there will be no further chance. “The humans have told me of a structure,” I say, “a cage made of interlaced metal. This cage.” I crawl inside my masterpiece and begin to lay the final strips of metal. They must be placed closely. If the gaps are too large, the masterpiece will not work. “The metal breaks apart the song of the Hivemother, sends the ripples elsewhere. While I am inside, I cannot not hear her voice. The Unity will not touch me.”
I work frantically. There is a name for it, this cage-made-of-metal, this cage-that-will-preserve-me. It has a human-sound: Fa? Fari? Faraday, yes, that is the sound the offworlders made. A Faraday cage. A lattice to block the voice of the Hivemother. A cage to grant me freedom.
But I am too late. Far overhead, the world spins into sunlight. The Hivemother raises her thorax, greeting the dawn as her mothers and grandmothers have done before her. I feel the thrumming, the familiar jolt that signals the beginning of Unity.
No! No, I am not ready!
I grasp at the final bands of metal. They are not positioned properly; the ends are still folded outward. I lunge through the narrow opening, reaching to pull them aright. But the Hivemother has turned her attention on me – me! above all other workers! – and begins the task of her song. My body responds to her thrumming; sifting experience, blotting out what is not useful. I tremble, knowing the memory of the humans will soon vanish. The memory of my masterpiece will vanish. I am locked in the throes of Unity. I cannot move.
And then Twelfth-worker is there. He pushes me backward, into the cage, and clamps his jaws around the metal. Strip by strip he presses the fibers into place. Metal laced against metal, blotting out the Hivemother’s song.
I draw breath, blinking at the sudden silence. I have not forgotten. The memories are still there.
Twelfth-worker is less fortunate. He clings to the outside the structure, frozen in the rigid stance of Unity. His eyes are unfocused, trembling. He will not remember this encounter when he awakens. He might even attack me, if the Hivemother decides I am a threat. But I am prepared for that. I have not come so far, and built so perfectly, to be cut down in the final moments. I will build more cages. I will coax other workers to join me. Twelfth-worker will be the first.
“Take courage,” I whisper, although I know he cannot hear me. “A new dawn is coming. All will be well.”
THE END
***
我在前往秘密基地的途中被12号工撞见。听到他的喊声,我加快脚步,满以为可以在这堆金属迷宫里甩掉他。可惜他的爪子和我的一样牢固——他越过了锯齿状的边缘,沿着隧道拱门的暗面紧随而至。我放弃了试着甩掉他。遇到这种情况,我通常会就此打道回府。但这次时间紧迫。
即将抵达我的杰作时,他追上来与我并肩同行。“5号工。”他开口了。“你要去哪里?我们的任务在地表上方。”
我摇摇头,迈开十条腿全速前进。
隧道内的空气十分难闻。慈母极少命令她的孩子到这附近来,在这片区域,她的察觉能力与对我们身体的控制也不复存在。在古代金属的作用下,这个星球的磁场发生了扭曲。在我体内,五脏六腑之间,慈母的声音随时响起的地方,我能感受到这一点。我翻越这爿残骸时,清晰地感到慈母的触碰颤抖了几下,如同水中的倒影般错位了。
“5号工!”
我匆忙转过最后一个拐角。12号工焦虑不安地尾随在后。他比我年轻,与上百个与他名字相同的个体一样,生于12号卵细胞群。他的声音从拐角处远远传来。“是外来者吗?你不应该让他们如此折磨你。他们——”
终于抵达岩洞。我剧烈地呼吸,气息直入肺腑。
它就像外来者说的一样在那儿。虽然我不明所以,但一直坚信不疑。它从洞顶悬垂下来,由金属电缆交织而成,还有一侧尚未完工。电缆的末端向外伸出。附近堆着收集好的金属材料。
“——不会再兴风作浪了,只要‘大统一’完成。”12号工一边叫着,一边转过了拐角。“新的黎明将至。一切都会变好。”他看见眼前的工程,突然闭上了嘴。我几乎能感觉到他的大脑在挣扎着思考,努力适应新的状况。
“你可曾怀疑过?”我安静地问。“你可曾怀疑过,如果没有‘大统一’,生活将会是什么样子?”
“如果没有‘大统一’,生命怎会存在?慈母在我们心中吟唱,她的歌声驱散阴影,领导她的工人筑起富饶强盛的堡垒。”
“假如呢?”我坚持。“假如黎明日出时,慈母的声音不再触达我们的心中,将会发生什么?”
“你的思想有问题,5号工。外来者向你灌输了陌生的思想,异端的思想。但请你勇敢一点。‘大统一’即将来临,慈母的歌声将指导我们团结一致,带领我们向她的理想前行。”他将一只爪子按在我的胸前,那是一种安慰的手势。我却无端感到一阵战栗,抽身躲开。
他说的没错,确实,那些人类外来者向我灌输了陌生的思想,我从未思考过的、全新的思想。
那些外来者。
他们娴熟地说着我们的语言,我由此推断他们曾来过很多次。可我一次也不记得了。也就是说,慈母认为一个底层工人不需要这些思想。我只是个建筑工,一个微不足道的小人物。我的本职工作是巩固群落的巢穴,而不是同外星来客交谈和思考。然而,他们吸引着我。他们对我说话了!对我!把我当做独立的个体对待,当做慈母的一个化身,甚至慈母本身。他们似乎认识我,了解我,似乎我们之间曾有过多次对话……
我攀上墙壁,继续完善我的作品。那个连我自己都不记得的作品,一个中空的金属网笼。我观察、攀爬、寻觅、收集,再叼着捡来的电缆,爬上我亲手搭建的框架,然后拗扭、缠绕、弯曲、啮咬。我的唾液形成黏合剂,使原本分离的部件紧密结合。我严格按照那些人类所说,将电缆一根根紧挨着并排放置。不同于慈母强行输入我大脑中的命令,完全出于自己的意愿建造点什么,那感觉很特别。非常特别,但并不困扰。我的肢体对这些动作十分熟悉。我一定曾这样做过。
时间所剩无几,我马不停蹄地工作。世界旋转,黎明渐近。不久之后,慈母的歌声即将回荡在整个星球——歌声中所蕴含的纯粹能量,将如同涟漪般拂过世间万物。我只是个建筑工,不应当知晓这些道理。但那些外来者使我从另一个视角看待这一切。当慈母的声音触达她的孩子,他们的思想被同化。一切独立自主与雄心壮志均被忘却。一切不适合基层工人的思想均被擦除。
12号工仍不停地呼唤我。他跟着我爬上了金属网笼,抛出一个又一个问题,但我不予理睬。他很快会忘掉这段对话,就像我曾忘记我的作品。我很高兴外来者愿意帮助我。他们说,制造这件作品是我自己的主意。我全靠自己从头开始制造,当“大统一”临近,我把秘密告诉了他们,并让他们保证会一遍又一遍地提醒我,一直让我记着这件事——但他们现在越来越难找到我。我想,大概慈母已经意识到,这不仅仅是偶然的自我表达。这能够改变我们整个种族的本性。
“5号工,拜托!我想知道,我一定要知道!”
他语调中的急促使我停止手头的工作,还差一点点就完成了。“我们是建筑工。”我告诉12号工,将另一条电缆扳过来,“但为什么我们是建筑工?仅仅因为慈母做了这样安排。”
“可是为什么——”
“难道你从未怀疑过……为什么我们不能做……更多的事?”
12号工后退一步,激烈地舞动着触角:“这是陌生的思想,异端的思想。我们不应该说这种话。”
我沉默,继续工作,纠结是否应该说更多。我认为这没有任何坏处。慈母已经知道了,我非常确定这一点。她会把人类赶走,不让他们再次找到我。如果这一次我不把它做完,可能就再也没有机会了。“那些人类教给我一种结构。”我说,“一个笼子,由金属电缆交织而成,就是这个。”我钻入笼子,开始编织最后一组电缆。它们必须紧密排列,如果间隙过大,就不会起作用。“这些金属能够阻断慈母的歌声,将电磁波折射到其他地方。我在里面,就不会听到她的声音。‘大统一’无法对我产生影响。”
我狂热地工作着。它有一个名字。这个金属笼子,这个能给予我保护的笼子。它有个人类名字:法?法里?法拉第。是的,那些外来者是这样说的。法拉第笼。能屏蔽慈母歌声的笼子。能给予我自由的笼子。
但一切都太晚了。黎明已至,日光熹微。慈母鼓起胸腔,准备迎接黎明,就像她的母亲与祖母曾经那样。我体内泛起一阵似曾相识的悸动,预示着“大统一”的开始。
不!不!我还没准备好!
我攫取最后几根电缆。它们还没处理妥当,末梢仍然翘在外面。我从狭窄的入口探出身子,用力摆正电缆的位置。但慈母注意到了我——在所有工人中注意到了我!——并开始了她的吟唱。我的身体不由自主地做出反应,所有经历和记忆被层层过滤,一切无用的思想将被擦除。我颤抖着,知道关于那些人类的记忆即将消失,关于我的作品的记忆即将消失。在“大统一”带来的剧烈痛苦中,我动弹不得。
突然12号工出现在我眼前。他将我一把推回笼子,紧紧咬住电缆,使它们一根一根排列就位。紧密的结构起了作用,慈母的歌声被屏蔽无踪。
我松了口气,还不适应这突如其来的安静。我没有忘记。那些记忆仍在。
12号工没那么幸运。他附着在笼子外壁,僵直不动,正在被“大统一”无情地洗脑。他眼神涣散,浑身颤抖。等他再次苏醒,会将这段遭遇忘得一干二净。如果慈母认为我构成威胁,他甚至可能袭击我。但我做好了准备。我从未走到过这一步,从未制作过如此完美的作品,这一切,绝不是为了在最后一刻被打倒。我将制作更多的笼子。我将说服其他人加入我的计划。就从12号工开始。
“勇敢一点。”我悄声说,尽管我知道他听不见。“新的黎明将至。一切都会变好。”
「完」
—————————————————————————--
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By Nancy Fulda
Translate By Joe Nieh
2015-06
彗星科幻
Twelfth-worker catches me on the way to my secret place. I scurry faster when he calls to me, thinking to lose him in the maze of crumpled metal, but his claws cling as tightly as mine – scampering past jagged edges and along the underside of arches. I do not try to lead him astray. Ordinarily I would turn aside, return to the surface. But there is no time.
He pulls abreast as I near my masterpiece. “Fifth-worker,” he says. “Where are you going? Our task is above-ground.”
I shake my head and press forward with all ten legs.
The air is strange in these tunnels. The Hivemother seldom sends her children this direction, and so the scent and press of bodies is absent. Ancient metal warps the fields of the planet. I feel it, in my gut, in the organ cluster where the Hivemother speaks. As I climb past the wreckage her touch quivers, distorting like reflections in water.
“Fifth-worker!”
I scurry around the last curve. Twelfth-worker follows with agitated motions. He is younger than I, born of the twelfth egg-cluster, like a hundred others who bear his name. His voice trails around the corner. “Is it the offworlders? You should not let them upset you so. They—”
I have reached the cavern. My breath sucks into my lungs.
It is there, just as the offworlder said it would be. Just as I knew it would be, without knowing how I knew. It hangs from the ceiling, made from interlacing bands of metal. It is not yet complete. The construction is open on one side, cables snaking into empty air. A pile of scavenged metal lies nearby.
“…will all be gone after the Unity,” Twelfth-worker says, following me around the corner. “A new dawn approaches. All will be well.” He sees my project and stops talking. I can almost feel his mind working, struggling to shape itself around new thoughts.
“Do you ever wonder?” I ask quietly. “Do you wonder how life would be without the Unity?”
“How can life exist without Unity? The Hivemother’s voice is woven into our hearts. She sings away the shadows, directs her workers to build mighty citadels.”
“But what if?” I persist. “What if sunrise came, and the Hivemother’s touch could not reach us?”
“You are unwell, Fifth-worker. The offworlders have given you strange thoughts; different thoughts. But take courage. The Unity approaches, and the song of the Hivemother will align our minds with her purposes.” He lays a claw on my thorax; a gesture that ought to be comforting. I shudder and pull away.
He is right, of course. The human offworlders have filled me with strange thoughts, things I had never imagined.
The offworlders.
They spoke our language perfectly, and so I know they have come many times before. I do not remember those other visits, which means the Hivemother does not find such thoughts worthy of a drone. I am just a builder, a little thing. My task is to strengthen the hive, not to think and speak with strangers from the sky. And yet… they are fascinating. They spoke to me. Me! As if I were an independent entity, a voice of the Hivemother, or perhaps the Hivemother herself. They behaved as though they knew me, as though we had spoken many times before…
I scale the walls and continue to work on my masterpiece; the hollow bulge that I do not remember building. I see, I climb, I search, I gather. I carry scavenged scraps of wire between my mandibles and clamber over my self-made construction, twisting, tying, bending, biting. My saliva forms the bonds between those elements that will not cling by themselves. I lay the fibers closely, metal touching metal, just as the humans said it must be. It is different, building a pattern I have chosen for myself, rather than the shapes pressed into my mind by the Hivemother. Different, but not distressing. My body knows the motions. I have done this before.
I work quickly, for there is no time. The world spins; a new dawn approaches. Soon the Hivemother’s voice will echo across the planet – a voice of pure energy, rippling through the stuff of existence. I am a builder, and should not understand such things; but the offworlders have shown me differently. When the Hivemother’s voice touches her children, their minds align with hers. Independence and ambition are forgotten. All thoughts not fit for builders are removed.
Twelfth-worker is still calling to me. He has followed me onto the bulging lacework of metal, pelting out questions, but I do not respond. He will soon forget this conversation, just as I have forgotten my masterpiece, over and over again. I am glad the offworlders have chosen to help me. They say the masterpiece was my own idea; that I began it alone, then told my secret as the Unity drew near. I made them promise to remind me of it, over and over again – but it is getting harder for them to find me. I think perhaps the Hivemother realizes this is more than just a random burst of self-expression. That it could change the nature of our species.
“Fifth-worker, please! I want to understand. I need to understand.”
The urgency in his tone makes me pause, finally, in the work that is so very nearly finished. “We are builders,” I tell Twelfth-worker, and wrestle another fiber into place. “But why are we builders? Only because the Hivemother keeps us so.”
“But why—”
“Don’t you wonder if… perhaps we could be something… more?”
Twelfth-worker backs away, feelers waving. “These are strange thoughts. Different thoughts. We should not speak this way.”
I work in silence, wondering if I should say more. I decide it cannot harm. The Hivemother knows, I am certain of it. She will send the humans away, keep them from finding me again. If I do not succeed now, there will be no further chance. “The humans have told me of a structure,” I say, “a cage made of interlaced metal. This cage.” I crawl inside my masterpiece and begin to lay the final strips of metal. They must be placed closely. If the gaps are too large, the masterpiece will not work. “The metal breaks apart the song of the Hivemother, sends the ripples elsewhere. While I am inside, I cannot not hear her voice. The Unity will not touch me.”
I work frantically. There is a name for it, this cage-made-of-metal, this cage-that-will-preserve-me. It has a human-sound: Fa? Fari? Faraday, yes, that is the sound the offworlders made. A Faraday cage. A lattice to block the voice of the Hivemother. A cage to grant me freedom.
But I am too late. Far overhead, the world spins into sunlight. The Hivemother raises her thorax, greeting the dawn as her mothers and grandmothers have done before her. I feel the thrumming, the familiar jolt that signals the beginning of Unity.
No! No, I am not ready!
I grasp at the final bands of metal. They are not positioned properly; the ends are still folded outward. I lunge through the narrow opening, reaching to pull them aright. But the Hivemother has turned her attention on me – me! above all other workers! – and begins the task of her song. My body responds to her thrumming; sifting experience, blotting out what is not useful. I tremble, knowing the memory of the humans will soon vanish. The memory of my masterpiece will vanish. I am locked in the throes of Unity. I cannot move.
And then Twelfth-worker is there. He pushes me backward, into the cage, and clamps his jaws around the metal. Strip by strip he presses the fibers into place. Metal laced against metal, blotting out the Hivemother’s song.
I draw breath, blinking at the sudden silence. I have not forgotten. The memories are still there.
Twelfth-worker is less fortunate. He clings to the outside the structure, frozen in the rigid stance of Unity. His eyes are unfocused, trembling. He will not remember this encounter when he awakens. He might even attack me, if the Hivemother decides I am a threat. But I am prepared for that. I have not come so far, and built so perfectly, to be cut down in the final moments. I will build more cages. I will coax other workers to join me. Twelfth-worker will be the first.
“Take courage,” I whisper, although I know he cannot hear me. “A new dawn is coming. All will be well.”
THE END
***
我在前往秘密基地的途中被12号工撞见。听到他的喊声,我加快脚步,满以为可以在这堆金属迷宫里甩掉他。可惜他的爪子和我的一样牢固——他越过了锯齿状的边缘,沿着隧道拱门的暗面紧随而至。我放弃了试着甩掉他。遇到这种情况,我通常会就此打道回府。但这次时间紧迫。
即将抵达我的杰作时,他追上来与我并肩同行。“5号工。”他开口了。“你要去哪里?我们的任务在地表上方。”
我摇摇头,迈开十条腿全速前进。
隧道内的空气十分难闻。慈母极少命令她的孩子到这附近来,在这片区域,她的察觉能力与对我们身体的控制也不复存在。在古代金属的作用下,这个星球的磁场发生了扭曲。在我体内,五脏六腑之间,慈母的声音随时响起的地方,我能感受到这一点。我翻越这爿残骸时,清晰地感到慈母的触碰颤抖了几下,如同水中的倒影般错位了。
“5号工!”
我匆忙转过最后一个拐角。12号工焦虑不安地尾随在后。他比我年轻,与上百个与他名字相同的个体一样,生于12号卵细胞群。他的声音从拐角处远远传来。“是外来者吗?你不应该让他们如此折磨你。他们——”
终于抵达岩洞。我剧烈地呼吸,气息直入肺腑。
它就像外来者说的一样在那儿。虽然我不明所以,但一直坚信不疑。它从洞顶悬垂下来,由金属电缆交织而成,还有一侧尚未完工。电缆的末端向外伸出。附近堆着收集好的金属材料。
“——不会再兴风作浪了,只要‘大统一’完成。”12号工一边叫着,一边转过了拐角。“新的黎明将至。一切都会变好。”他看见眼前的工程,突然闭上了嘴。我几乎能感觉到他的大脑在挣扎着思考,努力适应新的状况。
“你可曾怀疑过?”我安静地问。“你可曾怀疑过,如果没有‘大统一’,生活将会是什么样子?”
“如果没有‘大统一’,生命怎会存在?慈母在我们心中吟唱,她的歌声驱散阴影,领导她的工人筑起富饶强盛的堡垒。”
“假如呢?”我坚持。“假如黎明日出时,慈母的声音不再触达我们的心中,将会发生什么?”
“你的思想有问题,5号工。外来者向你灌输了陌生的思想,异端的思想。但请你勇敢一点。‘大统一’即将来临,慈母的歌声将指导我们团结一致,带领我们向她的理想前行。”他将一只爪子按在我的胸前,那是一种安慰的手势。我却无端感到一阵战栗,抽身躲开。
他说的没错,确实,那些人类外来者向我灌输了陌生的思想,我从未思考过的、全新的思想。
那些外来者。
他们娴熟地说着我们的语言,我由此推断他们曾来过很多次。可我一次也不记得了。也就是说,慈母认为一个底层工人不需要这些思想。我只是个建筑工,一个微不足道的小人物。我的本职工作是巩固群落的巢穴,而不是同外星来客交谈和思考。然而,他们吸引着我。他们对我说话了!对我!把我当做独立的个体对待,当做慈母的一个化身,甚至慈母本身。他们似乎认识我,了解我,似乎我们之间曾有过多次对话……
我攀上墙壁,继续完善我的作品。那个连我自己都不记得的作品,一个中空的金属网笼。我观察、攀爬、寻觅、收集,再叼着捡来的电缆,爬上我亲手搭建的框架,然后拗扭、缠绕、弯曲、啮咬。我的唾液形成黏合剂,使原本分离的部件紧密结合。我严格按照那些人类所说,将电缆一根根紧挨着并排放置。不同于慈母强行输入我大脑中的命令,完全出于自己的意愿建造点什么,那感觉很特别。非常特别,但并不困扰。我的肢体对这些动作十分熟悉。我一定曾这样做过。
时间所剩无几,我马不停蹄地工作。世界旋转,黎明渐近。不久之后,慈母的歌声即将回荡在整个星球——歌声中所蕴含的纯粹能量,将如同涟漪般拂过世间万物。我只是个建筑工,不应当知晓这些道理。但那些外来者使我从另一个视角看待这一切。当慈母的声音触达她的孩子,他们的思想被同化。一切独立自主与雄心壮志均被忘却。一切不适合基层工人的思想均被擦除。
12号工仍不停地呼唤我。他跟着我爬上了金属网笼,抛出一个又一个问题,但我不予理睬。他很快会忘掉这段对话,就像我曾忘记我的作品。我很高兴外来者愿意帮助我。他们说,制造这件作品是我自己的主意。我全靠自己从头开始制造,当“大统一”临近,我把秘密告诉了他们,并让他们保证会一遍又一遍地提醒我,一直让我记着这件事——但他们现在越来越难找到我。我想,大概慈母已经意识到,这不仅仅是偶然的自我表达。这能够改变我们整个种族的本性。
“5号工,拜托!我想知道,我一定要知道!”
他语调中的急促使我停止手头的工作,还差一点点就完成了。“我们是建筑工。”我告诉12号工,将另一条电缆扳过来,“但为什么我们是建筑工?仅仅因为慈母做了这样安排。”
“可是为什么——”
“难道你从未怀疑过……为什么我们不能做……更多的事?”
12号工后退一步,激烈地舞动着触角:“这是陌生的思想,异端的思想。我们不应该说这种话。”
我沉默,继续工作,纠结是否应该说更多。我认为这没有任何坏处。慈母已经知道了,我非常确定这一点。她会把人类赶走,不让他们再次找到我。如果这一次我不把它做完,可能就再也没有机会了。“那些人类教给我一种结构。”我说,“一个笼子,由金属电缆交织而成,就是这个。”我钻入笼子,开始编织最后一组电缆。它们必须紧密排列,如果间隙过大,就不会起作用。“这些金属能够阻断慈母的歌声,将电磁波折射到其他地方。我在里面,就不会听到她的声音。‘大统一’无法对我产生影响。”
我狂热地工作着。它有一个名字。这个金属笼子,这个能给予我保护的笼子。它有个人类名字:法?法里?法拉第。是的,那些外来者是这样说的。法拉第笼。能屏蔽慈母歌声的笼子。能给予我自由的笼子。
但一切都太晚了。黎明已至,日光熹微。慈母鼓起胸腔,准备迎接黎明,就像她的母亲与祖母曾经那样。我体内泛起一阵似曾相识的悸动,预示着“大统一”的开始。
不!不!我还没准备好!
我攫取最后几根电缆。它们还没处理妥当,末梢仍然翘在外面。我从狭窄的入口探出身子,用力摆正电缆的位置。但慈母注意到了我——在所有工人中注意到了我!——并开始了她的吟唱。我的身体不由自主地做出反应,所有经历和记忆被层层过滤,一切无用的思想将被擦除。我颤抖着,知道关于那些人类的记忆即将消失,关于我的作品的记忆即将消失。在“大统一”带来的剧烈痛苦中,我动弹不得。
突然12号工出现在我眼前。他将我一把推回笼子,紧紧咬住电缆,使它们一根一根排列就位。紧密的结构起了作用,慈母的歌声被屏蔽无踪。
我松了口气,还不适应这突如其来的安静。我没有忘记。那些记忆仍在。
12号工没那么幸运。他附着在笼子外壁,僵直不动,正在被“大统一”无情地洗脑。他眼神涣散,浑身颤抖。等他再次苏醒,会将这段遭遇忘得一干二净。如果慈母认为我构成威胁,他甚至可能袭击我。但我做好了准备。我从未走到过这一步,从未制作过如此完美的作品,这一切,绝不是为了在最后一刻被打倒。我将制作更多的笼子。我将说服其他人加入我的计划。就从12号工开始。
“勇敢一点。”我悄声说,尽管我知道他听不见。“新的黎明将至。一切都会变好。”
「完」
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