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记忆传授人|The Giver

第十一章 记忆传送|Chapter 11

属类： 双语小说 【分类】魔幻小说 阅读：[9927]
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起初乔纳思不觉得有什么特别，只感觉到老人的手轻轻地触摸他的背。

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他尽量放松，保持规律的呼吸。整个房间静悄悄的，乔纳思有点担心自己会在受训的第一天就出丑,因为他快要睡着了。

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就在这时，他哆嗦了一下。他知道是触摸他的那只手突然间变冷了。在这同时，他发现吸入的空气也变得很冷。他舔舔嘴唇，感觉舌头一阵冰凉。

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他大吃一惊，却一点也不害怕，反而觉得全身上下充满活力，他再吸一大口气，让冰凉的空气流窜到身体各处。现在，他感觉得到寒冷的空气在周遭回绕，拂在他的手上，笼罩在他的背上。

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老人的触摸似乎不见了。

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现在他有了一种全新的感觉。是针扎吗？不，针扎不会这样柔软又没有痛楚。细小的、冰冷的、羽毛般的触感，落在他的身上和脸上。他再伸出舌头，捕捉一次次寒冷的接触。那种感觉很快就消失，但很快地又一个接一个从不同的地方冒出来。他不禁笑了起来。

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他知道自己躺在床上，躺在安尼斯的房间里，却又觉得自己端坐在某个地方，身体下不是柔软华丽的床单，而是平坦又坚硬的地面。他的手虽然一动也不动地放在身边，却感觉到是握着一根粗糙、潮湿的绳子。

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虽然眼睛闭着，他却看得见景象。他看见四周白茫茫一片，晶莹、旋转的结晶体自空中缓缓飘落，聚积在他的手背上，好像一层冰冷的软毛。

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他的呼吸清晰可见。

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现在他终于了解老人所说的“雪”是什么东西了。穿透层层雪花，他可以眺望到极远的地方。他现在身在高处，地上是厚厚的积雪，他因为坐在一个坚硬、平坦的物体上，才能突出雪地。

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雪橇，他突然明白了，他正坐在一部雪橇上。他的脚下是蜿蜒地势的最高点，但雪橇却安稳地停在上头。最先闪现在他脑海的是“土堆”这个词，但是新的知觉告诉他这叫“山丘”。

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然后，雪橇载着他穿越纷纷飘落的雪花，往前滑行。乔纳思立刻明白自己正在下坡。没有任何说明，完全是他亲身体验出来的。

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当雪橇开始急速下降、冰冷的空气拂过他的脸庞时，他穿越的物质叫做雪，他脚下的工具叫做雪橇，而推动雪橇前进的就是滑板。他终于完全了解了。他整个人沉浸在喜悦中：速度、清新的冷空气、完全的静谧，还有平衡、兴奋、祥和的感受。

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下降的速度慢慢趋缓，在接近土堆——不对，应是山丘——的底端时，雪橇前进的速度变慢了，上面也堆满了雪花。他用身体推动雪橇前进，不想这么快结束这段刺激的旅程。

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但是积雪挡住去路，雪橇上的薄滑板再也前进不了了，他停了下来。他坐了一会儿，冰冷的手握着绳子，喘着气。

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他试探性地张开眼睛——不是坐雪橇时的眼睛——看见自己躺在床上，动也没动过。

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老人依然坐在床边打量他：“怎么样？”他问。

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乔纳思坐起身子，试着说出真实的感受，好一会儿才回答：“不可异议。”

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老人用袖口抹去额头的汗水，“哎，”他说，“真累啊。不过，希望你明白，即使只传送你这样小的经历，我也觉得负担减轻了。”

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“您的意思是……我可以问问题吗？”

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老人点点头，鼓励他发问。

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“您的意思是您现在已经没有那段记忆了——那段坐雪橇的经历——再也没有了？”

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“没错，所以我这副臭皮囊稍微变轻些了。”

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“但是那段经历很有趣啊！现在您完全没有了，被我拿走了！”

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老人笑了笑：“我只是给你一趟在某个山丘上、某次下雪的时候、驾一辆雪橇的旅程记忆。在我的记忆库里，有全世界各地的滑雪经历。我可以一个一个地传送给你，即使传送上千次，我还会剩下一大堆。”

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“您是说，我——我是指我们——还可以再来一次？”

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乔纳思问，“我非常乐意。我想我应该会拉绳子操控雪橇。这次我没试，因为这次的经历对我来说太新奇了。”

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老人边笑边摇头：“也许改天再来玩吧！时间所剩不多了，不能只顾着玩。我只是想让你了解如何转移记忆。”

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“现在，”他换了副严肃的表情，“再躺下来，我想要……”

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乔纳思照做，他渴望再获得一点新的感受。但就在这当儿，脑海里突然涌现出许多疑问。

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“为什么现在没有雪、雪橇和山丘了呢？”他问，“以前有吗？我爸妈年轻的时候玩过雪橇吗？您呢？”

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老人耸耸肩，勉强一笑：“没有，”他告诉乔纳思，“那是非常古老的记忆，这也是我这么费劲的原因——我必须回到好几代以前把这段记忆拉回来。在我刚晋升为记忆传承人时，前一任的记忆传承人也是回到古代才把这段记忆拉回来传送给我。”

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“为什么雪和其他东西通通不见了呢？”

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“因为气候受到控制的缘故。雪会妨碍农作物生长，限制耕作时间。它那飘忽不定、难以预测的动向还会影响交通，非常不实用，所以在建立同化社区的时候，就被废除了。”

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“山丘也是一样，”他补充说，“搬运物品的时候，爬山越岭非常不便，还会减慢卡车、公共汽车的速度，所以他一挥手，好像这样就可以让山丘消失：“也被同化了。”他下个结论。

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乔纳思惋惜地说：“真希望那些东西一直都在。”

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老人微微一笑：“我也这么想，”他说，“但是我们无法选择。”

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“但是，先生，”乔纳思建议，“既然您拥有那么大的权力……”

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老人纠正他：“是荣耀，”他坚定地说，“我获得很大的荣耀。未来你也一样。但是你会发现那跟权力是两码事。

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现在安静地趴下来。既然谈到气候，我就再给你一些这方面的经历。为了测试你的接收程度，这一次，我不事先说明，看你能不能自己领悟这个名词。刚才我已经事先告诉了你雪、雪橇、下坡和滑板。”

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用不着指示，乔纳思主动闭上眼睛。他再度感觉到背上那双手。他等着。

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感觉来得好快。这一次那双手不再发冷，而是释放出略带潮湿的暖意。暖和的感觉慢慢扩散，先横越肩膀，往上到达脖子，再漫延到脸庞。即使是穿着衣服的部位，也可以领略到那愉快、满布全身的温暖。他舔舔嘴唇，感觉到空气又热又潮。

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他没有移动，这里没有雪橇，所以他的姿势维持不变。他独自一个人，躺在户外的地上，暖意来自遥远的上方。虽然不像上次驾雪橇那般刺激，但是感觉非常愉快、舒服。

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突然，他领悟到用来形容这种感觉的字眼：阳光。他还察觉到是来自天空。

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就在这时，感觉消失了。

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“阳光！”他大喊，一边张开眼睛。

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“很好，你确实领受到这个字眼了。这样我的工作就轻松多了，不必多做解释。”

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“而且它来自天上。”

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“没错，”老人说：“以前就是这样。”

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“在同化之前，在气候控制之前。”乔纳思补充。

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老人笑了起来：“你的接收力很强，学得又快。真高兴跟你一起工作。我想今天就到这里为止，我们有个很好的开始。”

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乔纳思却有些困惑：“先生，”他说，“首席长老告诉我——她也告诉了每一个人——而您也跟我提过，受训的过程非常痛苦：所以我被吓到了。但是它一点也不痛啊，我还觉得很享受呢。”他带着调皮的神情看着老人。

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老人叹了一口气：“我特意选择愉快的经历开始。上一次的失败教训让我获得智能，知道应该这么做比较好。”他深深地吸了几口气，“乔纳思，训练的确很痛苦，但现在还不是时候。”

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“我很勇敢，真的很勇敢。”乔纳思坐得更加挺直。

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老人定定地望了他好一会儿，微笑着说：“我看得出来。

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好吧，既然你问了这个问题——我想我也还有体力再做一次传送。”

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“再躺下来，这是今天最后一次了。”

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乔纳思很开心地服从指示。他闭上眼睛，等着，再度感觉到那双手。接着，他又感觉到那股暖意，感觉到阳光从天空泼洒而下。这一次，他躺在舒适无比的暖意下，慢慢地感觉到时光的流逝。他知道真实的自己只不过是过了一、两分钟，但是他那正在接收记忆的另一部分，却已经在太阳底下待了好几个小时。他的皮肤开始觉得刺痛，他忍耐不住，挪动了一下手臂，才稍微弯曲，手肘内侧立刻传来一阵灼痛。

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“哎呦！”他大叫一声，在床上换个姿势。“哎呦呦！喔喔……”他缩起身子，就连张嘴说话脸部都疼痛不堪。

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他知道有适当的字可以形容这种感觉，但是他被痛苦淹没了，说不出来。

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突然，痛苦结束了。他张开眼睛，不舒服地蜷缩着身子。

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“好痛。”他告诉老人，“我掌握不到那个词。”

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“这就是晒伤。”老人告诉他。

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“好痛！”乔纳思说，“但是我很高兴您把它转移给我。

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真的很有趣。现在我比较有概念了，知道为什么它会带来痛苦。”

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老人没有回答，沉默地坐了一秒钟才说：“起来吧，你该回家了。”

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他们两人一起走到房间中央。乔纳思穿上衣服。“再见了，先生。”他说，“谢谢您给我上了第一课。”

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老人点点头，看起来很疲惫，还有一点感伤。

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“先生？”乔纳思怯生生的说。

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“什么事？你还有问题吗？”

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“我还不知道您的大名呢。我本来认为您是记忆传承人,但是您又说我现在才是记忆传承人。所以我不知道该怎么称呼您。”

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老人坐回椅子，动了动肩膀，好像要藉此消除身体的疲惫。他似乎筋疲力尽了。

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“就叫我传授人好了。”

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Jonas felt nothing unusual at first. He felt only the light touch of the old man’s hands on his back.

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He tried to relax, to breathe evenly. The room was absolutely silent, and for a moment Jonas feared that he might disgrace himself now, on the first day of his training, by falling asleep.

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Then he shivered. He realized that the touch of the hands felt, suddenly, cold. At the same instant, breathing in, he felt the air change, and his very breath was cold. He licked his lips, and in doing so, his tongue touched the suddenly chilled air.

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It was very startling; but he was not at all frightened, now. He was filled with energy, and he breathed again, feeling the sharp intake of frigid air. Now, too, he could feel cold air swirling around his entire body. He felt it blow against his hands where they lay at his sides, and over his back.

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The touch of the man’s hands seemed to have disappeared.

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Now he became aware of an entirely new sensation: pinpricks? No, because they were soft and without pain. Tiny, cold, feather like feelings peppered his body and face. He put out his tongue again, and caught one of the dots of cold upon it. It disappeared from his awareness instantly; but he caught another, and another. The sensation made him smile.

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One part of his consciousness knew that he was still lying there, on the bed, in the Annex room. Yet another, separate part of his being was upright now, in a sitting position, and beneath him he could feel that he was not on the soft decorated bed covering at all, but rather seated on a flat, hard surface. His hands now held (though at the same time they were still motionless at his sides) a rough, damp rope.

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And he could see, though his eyes were closed. He could see a bright, whirling torrent of crystals in the air around him, and he could see them gather on the backs of his hands, like cold fur.

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His breath was visible.

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Beyond, through the swirl of what he now, somehow, perceived was the thing the old man had spoken of — snow — he could look out and down a great distance. He was up high someplace. The ground was thick with the furry snow, but he sat slightly above it on a hard, flat object.

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Sled, he knew abruptly . He was sitting on a thing called sled. And the sled itself seemed to be poised at the top of a long, extended mound that rose from the very land where he was. Even as he thought the word "mound," his new consciousness told him hill.

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Then the sled, with Jonas himself upon it, began to move through the snowfall, and he understood instantly that now he was going downhill. No voice made an explanation. The experience explained itself to him.

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His face cut through the frigid air as he began the descent, moving through the substance called snow on the vehicle called sled, which propelled itself on what he now knew without doubt to be runners.

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Comprehending all of those things as he sped downward, he was free to enjoy the breathless glee that overwhelmed him: the speed, the clear cold air, the total silence, the feeling of balance and excitement and peace.

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Then, as the angle of incline lessened , as the mound — the hill — flattened , nearing the bottom, the sled’s forward motion slowed. The snow was piled now around it, and he pushed with his body, moving it forward, not wanting the exhilarating ride to end.

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Finally the obstruction of the piled snow was too much for the thin runners of the sled, and he came to a stop. He sat there for a moment, panting, holding the rope in his cold hands. Tentatively he opened his eyes — not his snow-hill-sled eyes, for they had been open throughout the strange ride. He opened his ordinary eyes, and saw that he was still on the bed, that he had not moved at all.

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The old man, still beside the bed, was watching him. "How do you feel?" he asked.

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Jonas sat up and tried to answer honestly. "Surprised," he said, after a moment.

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The old man wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "Whew," he said. "It was exhausting. But you know, even transmitting that tiny memory to you — I think it lightened me just a little."

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"Do you mean — you did say I could ask questions?"

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The man nodded, encouraging his question.

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"Do you mean that now you don’t have the memory of it — of that ride on the sled — anymore?"

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"That’s right. A little weight off this old body."

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"But it was such fun! And now you don’t have it anymore! I took it from you!"

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But the old man laughed. "All I gave you was one ride, on one sled, in one snow, on one hill. I have a whole world of them in my memory. I could give them to you one by one, a thousand times, and there would still be more."

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"Are you saying that I — I mean we — could do it again?" Jonas asked. "I’d really like to. I think I could steer , by pulling the rope. I didn’t try this time, because it was so new."

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The old man, laughing, shook his head. "Maybe another day, for a treat. But there’s no time, really, just to play. I only wanted to begin by showing you how it works.

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"Now," he said, turning businesslike, "lie back down. I want to — "

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Jonas did. He was eager for whatever experience would come next. But he had, suddenly, so many questions.

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"Why don’t we have snow, and sleds, and hills?" he asked. "And when did we, in the past? Did my parents have sleds when they were young? Did you?"

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The old man shrugged and gave a short laugh. "No," he told Jonas. "It’s a very distant memory. That’s why it was so exhausting — I had to tug it forward from many generations back. It was given to me when I was a new Receiver, and the previous Receiver had to pull it through a long time period, too."

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"But what happened to those things? Snow, and the rest of it?"

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"Climate Control. Snow made growing food difficult, limited the agricultural periods. And unpredictable weather made transportation almost impossible at times. It wasn’t a practical thing, so it became obsolete when we went to Sameness.

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"And hills, too," he added. "They made conveyance of goods unwieldy. Trucks; buses. Slowed them down. So — " He waved his hand, as if a gesture had caused hills to disappear. "Sameness," he concluded.

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Jonas frowned. "I wish we had those things, still. Just now and then."

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The old man smiled. "So do I," he said. "But that choice is not ours."

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"But sir," Jonas suggested, "since you have so much power — "

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The man corrected him. "Honor," he said firmly. "I have great honor. So will you. But you will find that that is not the same as power.

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"Lie quietly now. Since we’ve entered into the topic of climate, let me give you something else. And this time I’m not going to tell you the name of it, because I want to test the receiving. You should be able to perceive the name without being told. I gave away snow and sled and downhill and runners by telling them to you in advance."

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Without being instructed, Jonas closed his eyes again. He felt the hands on his back again. He waited.

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Now it came more quickly, the feelings. This time the hands didn’t become cold, but instead began to feel warm on his body. They moistened a little. The warmth spread, extending across his shoulders, up his neck, onto the side of his face. He could feel it through his clothed parts, too: a pleasant, all-over sensation; and when he licked his lips this time, the air was hot and heavy.

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He didn’t move. There was no sled. His posture didn’t change. He was simply alone someplace, out of doors, lying down, and the warmth came from far above. It was not as exciting as the ride through the snowy air; but it was pleasurable and comforting.

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Suddenly he perceived the word for it: sunshine. He perceived that it came from the sky.

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Then it ended.

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"Sunshine," he said aloud, opening his eyes.

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"Good. You did get the word. That makes my job easier. Not so much explaining."

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"And it came from the sky."

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"That’s right," the old man said. "Just the way it used to."

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"Before Sameness. Before Climate Control," Jonas added.

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The man laughed. "You receive well, and learn quickly. I’m very pleased with you. That’s enough for today, I think. We’re off to a good start."

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There was a question bothering Jonas. "Sir," he said, "The Chief Elder told me — she told everyone — and you told me, too, that it would be painful. So I was a little scared. But it didn’t hurt at all. I really enjoyed it." He looked quizzically at the old man.

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The man sighed. "I started you with memories of pleasure. My previous failure gave me the wisdom to do that." He took a few deep breaths. "Jonas," he said, "it will be painful. But it need not be painful yet."

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"I’m brave. I really am." Jonas sat up a little straighter.

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The old man looked at him for a moment. He smiled. "I can see that," he said. "Well, since you asked the question — I think I have enough energy for one more transmission.

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"Lie down once more. This will be the last today."

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Jonas obeyed cheerfully. He closed his eyes, waiting, and felt the hands again; then he felt the warmth again, the sunshine again, coming from the sky of this other consciousness that was so new to him. This time, as he lay basking in the wonderful warmth, he felt the passage of time. His real self was aware that it was only a minute or two; but his other, memory-receiving self felt hours pass in the sun. His skin began to sting. Restlessly he moved one arm, bending it, and felt a sharp pain in the crease of his inner arm at the elbow.

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"Ouch," he said loudly, and shifted on the bed. "Owwww," he said, wincing at the shift, and even moving his mouth to speak made his face hurt.

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He knew there was a word, but the pain kept him from grasping it.

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Then it ended. He opened his eyes, wincing with discomfort . "It hurt," he told the man, "and I couldn’t get the word for it."

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"It was sunburn," the old man told him.

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"It hurt a lot," Jonas said, "but I’m glad you gave it to me. It was interesting. And now I understand better, what it meant, that there would be pain."

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The man didn’t respond. He sat silently for a second. Finally he said, "Get up, now. It’s time for you to go home."

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They both walked to the center of the room. Jonas put his tunic back on. "Goodbye, sir," he said. "Thank you for my first day."

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The old man nodded to him. He looked drained, and a little sad.

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"Sir?" Jonas said shyly.

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"Yes? Do you have a question?"

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"It’s just that I don’t know your name. I thought you were The Receiver, but you say that now I’m The Receiver. So I don’t know what to call you."

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The man had sat back down in the comfortable upholstered chair. He moved his shoulders around as if to ease away an aching sensation. He seemed terribly weary.

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"Call me The Giver," he told Jonas.

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