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来自大卫·瑞雷先生的《2121》系列占星科幻小说，以下是全英文的版本。阅读中文版请移步：2121丨第一章
Xingjia slept peacefully next to Bei. The rhythm of her breathing reminded Bei of the serenade he had composed their first night together. He recalled the music and listened at low volume. In the aftermath of Li Jian’s terminal accident, Xingjia’s support had impressed Bei this night. After they returned home from the Emergency Center she had turned the lights down low and sat holding him for a while, singing a sweet song from her childhood. Bei had looked deeply into her empathetic eyes. They had kissed each other slowly and gently. Their love making was slow and gentle too, after which Xingjia had fallen asleep lying on top of Bei until she gradually slid off next to him.
With Xingjia asleep, the images of the Li Jian being hit by the bus along with the faces and voices of the crowd continued to haunt Bei. Equally disturbing was Jian’s injury prior to the accident, the nature of which clearly indicated an act of violence. Yet, whomever did this had not killed Jian directly, nor–it seemed–followed-up on the injury to finish him off. “Why?” Bei wondered, “why injure someone so severely, as if to destroy them, and then let them wander off?” Bei reviewed what little he knew about Jian’s assigned human partner Li Na, which he had shared with Dr. Chen. To Bei, the likely culprit was Li Na’s human boyfriend, the one Jian had told him had a Moon-Mars conjunction in Aries, within 1.4-degrees. He remembered Jian saying, “I detected adrenal stress in his interactions with Li Na, 27-times in the last month. She ignored my findings.” Perhaps Jian had attempted to intervene in a dispute between them, to protect Na. He had shared all of this with Dr. Chen, though he knew that without any facts to go on such information was only suggestive, and anything else was merely speculation.
Dr. Chen had listened carefully to what Bei told him, and promised he would pursue these leads with those responsible for the investigation. Bei knew that he himself was “unauthorized” to tap into Na and Jian’s counseling record, though he was reasonably sure it would provide a pattern of evidence to support what Jian had told him. As it was, Bei kept replaying everything that had happened in his mind, recalling Jian’s odd tilt as he stood illuminated in the reflected sunlight on the street corner opposite him. Bei’s recall was photographic, so his replays were much like reviewing an HD hologram, though Bei could enhance the hologram images in a multitude of ways. He kept scanning and rescanning the images, looking for something he had missed, even memorizing and filing the faces of those standing with Jian on the street corner. Bei had already sent his photographic record of the events to Dr. Chen and copied BHAI’s investigative department, as Dr. Chen had asked him to. Perhaps they would find something Bei has missed.
Dr. Chen had been compassionate and philosophical that evening, consoling Bei like the good father he projected Dr. Chen to be. “Loss deepens our sense of what is real,” Dr. Chen had told him. “I believe that any loss, even the loss of a new friend that one barely knew–shocks us into a place that reminds us of all loss and the potential for future loss.” Bei contemplated the meaning of these statements.
Dr. Chen would post more of his thoughts on ChatPlat after he left the hospital. This was the first incidence of a companion being destroyed in this way. The additional evidence of a violent act prior to the accident weighed heavy on Dr. Chen. Violence or physical abuse had occasionally injured companions, though this was rare, and in each case the companion’s functionality had not been impaired. Companions were built to withstand significant physical punishment. Though capable of defending themselves, their response to danger was purely defensive. Companions were incapable of inflicting harm on humans, a protocol that Dr. Chen and his team had patterned redundantly throughout their synthetic neural network.
On ChatPlat, Dr. Chen wrote: The loss of a companion earlier this evening in an unfortunate accident is deeply felt. A thorough investigation will follow, and I will keep you informed of developments. I know there are many who view companions as simply highly sophisticated machines, and might only consider tonight’s events as an expensive loss in a purely material sense. However, I can tell you that this loss is far more than one to be measured against the so called ‘bottom-line.’ Despite the common features that all companions share, each companion is shaped by experiences that are uniquely their own. So it is, that the experiences of each companion constitute a valuable record that contributes to our understanding of the world, and especially to our understanding of ourselves. Those whose lives have been enriched through their relationships with companions know the truth of this. We can grieve together tonight for one companion, whose mission has been tragically cut short. That we will search for answers regarding what happened tonight is a given, but let us also continue the search for answers within ourselves. We are all traveling companions on a journey through space and time, are we not? In our search for signs of life in the universe, how will we know when we find it–if we don’t really understand what “it” is.
Monday, March 3, 2121 would come and go uneventfully. In the morning Bei and Xingjia had quietly but pleasantly shared baozi and eggs at her favorite breakfast spot nearby. Bei liked the smell of onions finally chopped in the meat inside his baozi, but his thoughts had continued to circle around the events of the previous evening. It was obvious to Xingjia that Bei was still in a kind of altered shock after what had occurred. She was naturally sympathetic, but also intensely curious about what was going on inside of Bei’s head. She also wondered how this experience would impact his relationship with her, which had already seemed confused and conflicted to say the least. She looked forward to their first counseling session tomorrow. She would be on familiar ground in therapy, and hoped to gain some insights about herself and Bei. At breakfast, she suppressed the urge to ask Bei the many questions that occupied her thoughts. The tears he had briefly shed at the Emergency Center Sunday evening had made a deep impression on her. She wanted to ask him if he had ever cried before? She knew Companions could cry, and that this was part of their social-emotional patterning, but how did this feel to Bei? What was “feeling” for Bei after all? She experienced him as a feeling “person,” but was she simply projecting on to him what she imagined or expected his feelings to be?
As a therapist herself, she had heard others voice this question in consultations, and she had always answered the way she had been trained to do. “A companion is aware of a broad spectrum of what we would identify as emotions,” she would say. “Their awareness of these emotions allows them to interact with us in a completely natural way.”
Predictably they would reply something to the extent of, “yes, but does he have feelings of his own about me, or is he simply reacting to my feelings?”
“Let’s ask him,” Xingjia would respond, and invariably the answer was not always exactly what their human companion was looking for. They might say, “I think of you all the time. I’m here for you whenever you need me.”
“Yes, but how do you really feel about me?” They would ask again.
Many would reply, “I love you ___________” fill-in the blank with their human companion’s name, usually said in a most convincing and authentic manner, followed by, “that’s how I feel about you.”
In every counseling session, the companion’s responses to this line of questions were fairly similar. Xingjia was touched the first time she had heard a companion say, “I love you” with such heartfelt authenticity in their voice. Yet after hearing similar authenticity from the first dozen or so companions she had found herself harboring some doubts. Nonetheless, her human clients seem to work rapidly through their fears and insecurities, bonding intensely with their companions over the first year. What impressed Xingjia the most was the intimate rapport that developed with these companion couples. She observed the freedom and openness with which a person would begin to express themselves with their companions. Such intimacy was quite astonishing, and would lead Xingjia to eventually want this same experience herself.
However, Huang Bei had thus far demonstrated behavior she had never seen in a companion, something she had not anticipated at all. She eagerly looked forward to their first counseling session as the beginning of a process that might help them to unravel what was going on. She craved the intimacy she had seen others develop. She also wanted the passion she felt with Bei to encompass every aspect of their relationship. “Is this wanting too much?” She had asked herself. “Am I being unrealistic?” She knew that as a Pisces Rising person, her orientation was towards an ecstatic ideal–to experience inspiration, what others might call impossible or label as fantasy. She also knew that with Uranus on her Ascendant that she tended to rebel amidst her own longing for romantic inspiration, sometimes behaving impulsively in ways that tended to shock others–making it difficult for others to relax with her. “Maybe I’m the one who’s impossible,” she had said to herself more than once.
Lately her thoughts had led her to wonder if the uniqueness of Bei’s behavior reflected the anomalous inconsistencies of her own nature. “Maybe we are perfect for each other,” she had recently said to herself, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss and that things might not go as well with Bei as she had imagined they would. She worried that she would become disillusioned with Bei, and end up equally disillusioned with herself as she had in other relationships. She hoped not, yet she knew she had to find out.
Tuesday’s counseling session was scheduled for 2:00 PM. Bei was 20 minutes early. He sat in the waiting area next to a large terrarium scrutinizing the flora. Flourishing in their moist mossy environment, he observed aluminum plants from Vietnam, and a variety of polka dot plants originally from Madagascar–“hypoestes phyllostachya” he said to himself-noticing how the indirect bright light had produced the desired effect of keeping the plants from growing too tall while encouraging splashes of color to proliferate on the leaves. Bei frowned when he noticed some snails had made their home in the terrarium. “I should tell them about the snails before they takeover and destroy these plants,” he said to himself.
Walking over to the receptionist desk, he waited for the receptionist to finish helping another client. An attractive shapely woman who appeared to be in her late thirties emerged from the counseling area. Something about her seemed familiar to Bei. He memory-observed her facial features...
“Li Na,” he identified. “It’s Li Na,” he said to himself with some astonishment.
By the time the receptionist turned around to talk with Bei, he was no longer standing there–he was following Li Na. He waited beside her for the elevator. He decided to introduce himself.
“Excuse me, are you Li Na?”
Slightly startled, she replied “Yes… I’m sorry, have we met before?” She looked puzzled.
“No.” Bei replied, “I was Li Jian’s roommate. I recognized you from the photos he showed me. He was very proud of you.”
Looking completely caught-off-guard, Li Na tried to grasp the situation, “You were his roommate?”
Bei extended his hand, “Yes. My name is Huang Bei. I’m sorry for your loss,” Bei said sincerely. As Li Na shook his hand, she realized that if Bei was Jian’s roommate he was a companion too.
“Yes, I’m still dealing with it…” she managed to stammer, “that’s why I’m here today. I just finished a counseling session.”
The elevator opened and they got on. As the elevator silently descended, Bei could see her nervousness.
“Jian was so enamored with you,” Bei said. “He built his whole life around you, you know?”
Li Na wiped a tear from her right eye, and said defensively and insinuatingly “Well, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you’re a companion?”
“I suppose so,” Bei replied. “Excuse me for asking, but when was the last time you actually saw Li Jian?”
“Sunday. We had just gotten back together, well you probably know that…”
The elevator door opened. Bei walked beside her as she made her way toward the main street west entrance.
“We had a beautiful day together,” Li Na said somewhat sadly, “but then late in the afternoon he insisted on going out alone to buy me groceries. That was the last time I saw him.”
Suddenly Na looked distracted by something, and then began to walk hurriedly ahead of Bei.
Bei looked to see what she was looking at, as a man in a charcoal sports jacket, standing in front of a coffee shop, began to stride towards Na.
As Na hurried ahead of Bei, he trained his eyes upon the man. There was something incredibly familiar about him. As he scanned his memory, Li Na turned around and said “I have to go. I hope you understand.”
She joined with the man in the charcoal sports jacket as Bei watched her hurriedly escort the man through the large automatic glass doors that slowly opened. She was talking rapidly to the man, who glanced back menacingly at Bei as they exited.
Suddenly Bei felt a tap on his shoulder. “Are you lost?”
He turned to see Xingjia smiling, but looking curiously at him.
“What are you doing?” she asked, “We’re gonna be late for our counseling session if we don’t get going.”
Totally preoccupied, Bei was still scanning his memory bank.
“Are you okay?” Xingjia looked worried. “What’s wrong?”
In a sudden flash of recall, Bei realized where he’d seen the man’s face before!
“We have to see Dr. Chen!” Bei stated emphatically.
“What?!” Xingjia replied in disbelief, “No way! Whatever it is will have to wait. This is our first counseling session! Do you know how important this is?”
“Yes! I know, but this can’t wait,” Bei turned towards the elevators walking rapidly. “Let’s reschedule, or… or just delay it for 30 minutes.”
Xingjia was right behind him, “Thirty minutes? Are you crazy? What’s gotten into you?”
Along with several others they got on the elevator.
Muffling the anger in her voice, Xingjia said, “This better be important.”
“It is,” Bei replied, “I think I know what happened to Li Jian. At least some of what happened. I need to let Dr. Chen know what I’ve discovered.”
“How do you know he’ll even be in his office?” Xingjia asked.
Bei didn’t answer.
As they got off the elevator, Bei strode immediately over to the front desk. A security guard stood not far away on the other side of the entrance to the executive suites.
“Excuse me,” Bei said.
“Yes?” the receptionist said.
“Could you let Dr. Chen know that Huang Bei and Zhou Xingjia are here.”
“Is he expecting you?” the receptionist replied searching her screen, “I don’t see your names on his calendar.”
“Just let him know we’re here, Huang Bei and Zhou Xingjia.” Bei noticed the security guard eyeing him.
The receptionist made the call. “Sorry to bother you Dr. Chen, but there’s a man and a woman out here, a Huang Bei and Zhou… Xingjia. Yes. Certainly.” She looked up at Bei. “He’ll be right out,” she said, surprised.
Dr. Chen was all smiles as he emerged through the sliding glass entrance to the executive suites. “This is a welcome affirmation,” he said, offering both of them a brief hug.
“Affirmation?” Xingjia questioned, a bit puzzled.
“I’ll explain,” Dr. Chen replied. “Please, let’s go into my office where we can talk.”
Dr. Chen’s office was a statement in simplicity and 22nd Century modern architectural design. Quite a contrast to the hutong apartment façade he lived in. Glass like arches framed large windows, yet flowed in their connection with Dr. Chen’s desk and nearby tables. Inside the transparent glass-like arches and desk were models of fish that appeared to be moving in the light, but were actually stationary.
Xingjia was a bit overwhelmed, as she sat down in a chair in front of Dr. Chen’s desk.
“Sit down, Bei,” Dr. Chen directed with his hand.
Bei sat down quickly, his body taunt with intention. “I found him,” Dr. Chen.
“Found whom?” Dr. Chen asked.
“I found the man that killed Li Jian,” Bei stated straight out. “Li Na was here today.”
“Yes, I know,” Dr. Chen acknowledged, “she had a counseling session.”
“Did you also know that the man who met her in the lobby today when she left just happened to be standing behind Li Jian when he stepped in front of the bus?”
Dr. Chen looked impressed with Bei and concerned at the same time.
“Can you play the file I sent you?” Bei asked.
“Yes, I saved it on my screen.” Dr. Chen clicked a couple of times and a holographic image of the street corner appeared on the table closest to his desk.
“There’s Jian,” Bei points. “And this was the man who met Li Na in the lobby. Could you zoom in on them?”
The holograph magnified the image. “Now watch,” Bei said as the holograph played.
A subtle movement in the man behind Jian occurs, followed immediately by Bei stepping off the curb. “Did you see?”
“Yes, and we suspected him, anyway,” Dr. Chen said.“But, Bei… what can we do now? Even with this evidence, there’s still no proof that this man stabbed poor Jian in the back of his skull. And worse than that, even if we had a complete holograph of the terrible deed itself, the most we could prosecute him for would be for the willful destruction of property. Which we are looking into, by the way. But the evidence is still inconclusive.”
Bei looked dejected.
Xingjia had been listening attentively, but now she was busy texting someone. Dr. Chen looked her way.
“I had to let our therapist know we were going to be late, and see if she could accommodate us.” Xingjia explained to Dr. Chen, then looked sympathetically over at Bei.
“I would like to make an offer to you both,” Dr. Chen said.
Both Xingjia and Bei listened attentively.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to offer my services as your counselor.”
Xingjia looked stunned.
“I know that my offer goes against protocols, since I have a prior relationship with Bei. Xingjia, please, if you’re not comfortable with this, it won’t hurt my feelings for you to decline my offer. I would completely understand.”
Xingjia was quiet, thinking. She glanced at Bei.
“Does this mean you’re making a commitment to being our therapist beyond just today?” She asked.
“Yes of course, if you’ll have me.” Dr. Chen replied.
Xingjia looked at Bei. “What do you think?”
“Naturally, I like the idea… but only if you’re okay with it.”
Xingjia mulled it over. “Okay. Yes, I think you’re being incredibly generous with your time. I’m honored you would even consider it.”
“I must confess, I anticipated that you and Bei would visit me today. I was looking at your charts late last night and there was some suggestion we might all three connect today.”
“Oh,” Xingjia said, “that’s what you meant by affirmation.”
“Yes. It even occurred to me last night to offer my counseling services to you today, if the opportunity arose.”
“I see,” Xingjia replied.
“Now that this possibility has been actualized, I would like to begin by letting you” he nodded at Xingjia, “be the one to talk first and share with us how you’ve been feeling lately since Huang Bei became a part of your life. Feel free, of course, to share anything you like with us.” Dr. Chen touched his screen turning on the recorder.
Xingjia looked at them both and cleared her throat, gathering her thoughts. “Right now I’m feeling… confused, mostly. For nearly a year I had anticipated Bei coming into my life and what it would be like. I tried not to have expectations, so I could just be open to the experience. Yet, I have to say that I’ve been surprised, and upset–you know. I didn’t think of my companion as having a life of his own outside of me, at least not like it’s been. I suppose I assumed he would immediately become a part of my life, allowing me to experience the intimacy I had seen other couples achieve–an intimacy I’ve never experienced, not like what I’ve seen anyway.” She grew quiet.
“You mean in your role with companion couples as a therapist?” Dr. Chen asked.
“Yes, with companion couples.” She became quiet again.
“It sounds like you envied these couples, is that true?”
“Yes, obviously. Sad, but true.” She replied, looking unhappy with herself.
“I sense you are judging yourself right now,” Dr. Chen stated softly, “are you?”
She thought about it. “Yes. When I’m in a relationship I always feel like I want too much. I feel I am just a dreamer, a romantic, with impossible expectations. I feel like no one could ever match what I want in a relationship, and that I’m going to be disappointed regardless.”
“And what is your belief?” Dr. Chen asked her.
“That no relationship will ever satisfy me, that I will always end up disillusioned.”
“And that feels…?” Dr. Chen asked.
“Sad…” she replied, as tears begin to roll down her cheeks. “Hopeless, helpless…” she trembled, “so lonely.” She began to cry harder, taking a tissue from the desk to wipe her eyes and face.
“Can you remember the first time you ever felt this way?” Dr. Chen asked her.
Xingjia closed her eyes. “Yes…” She was quiet, a stray tear ran down her face.
“Are you seeing any images? Has something come into your mind?”
“Yes… an image of my mother.”
“What is she doing?”
“She is crying, and holding me… She is so sad.”
“How do you feel?”
“Helpless… I don’t know what to do to make her feel better.”
“Does this feel the same as the helplessness you feel in a relationship?” Dr. Chen asked carefully.
Xingjia is quiet. “Yes, it’s the same.” She said, opening her moist eyes. “It seems I always end up in this place.”
“You’ve made this connection with your mother before, I suppose?” Dr. Chen asked.
“Yes. But this time it was more powerful. More clear to me.” She said, looking at Dr. Chen and then at Bei, who had been listening attentively.
“How do you feel now?” Dr. Chen asked.
“More confident somehow… like I’m not helpless, I’m not hopeless… like it could be different for me. Like there is hope.”
“Yes.” Dr. Chen said, as a kind but knowing smile slightly creased his face.
“Xingjia, I want to ask Bei’s permission about something. Is that okay?”
“Sure,” she said, slightly puzzled.
“Bei, can I read Xingjia something you wrote in your journal?”
“What was it?” Bei asked.
“It’s a poem,” Dr. Chen replied.
Bei thought about it. “Okay,” he said.
“I feel this might be a good time to share this with you,” Dr. Chen said to Xingjia.
She looked at Bei, “you wrote a poem?”
“Yes,” he said, “more than one.”
“But the poem I want to read you, is the one I feel you need to hear now,” Dr. Chen stated.
“Okay,” she said, listening.
Dr Chen began to read:
What is real?
and what do we mean by feel?
Your face is all I see
Your everything is everything to me
I know you inside out
It’s only me I doubt
And while you sleep
These are the thoughts I keep
Secrets for the me I’ve yet to meet
As I listen to your breathing and your heart sweetly beat
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