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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 pushed Bei in his wheelchair as Dr. Chen walked beside them down the quiet corridors of the BHAI clinic. “Xingjia, did you know your father’s been practicing Tai Chi lately?” Bei asked, exchanging a meaningful look with Dr. Chen.
“My mother mentioned something about it. Who told you that?” Xingjia asked, incredulously.
“My sister Ming is his Tai Chi teacher.”
“What!?” Xingjia stopped pushing the chair and starred at Bei, eager for an explanation.
“Your father was at the park today. I met him.”
“OMG!”
“Ming introduced us,” Bei went on…
“OMG!” Xingjia said again. “Did he know who you were?!”
“No, not a clue. Ming introduced me as her brother, who had recently moved to Beijing. My brother Ling was there. You said you met them when you came in earlier.”
“Yes… OMG…” Xingjia was still in shock.
“It’s my fault,” Dr. Chen chimed in. “You see, your mother called me. She’s been distraught about her husband’s behavior since you and Bei got together.”
Xingjia starred at both of them in complete disbelief.
Dr. Chen motioned towards a doorway. “That’s your room for tonight. Why don’t we go inside and talk about this.”
“Yes, why don’t we,” Xingjia said incredulously.
The room was sparsely furnished, modern-clinical–with artificial plants in the window, two chairs and a bed. Xingjia and Dr. Chen sat down, both facing Bei in his wheelchair.
“I like your father,” Bei said, attempting to lessen Xingjia’s shock.
“That’s nice,” Xingjia said sarcastically. “If he knew who you were, I don’t think you’d find him all that likable.”
“Perhaps…” Bei replied.
Xingjia ignored Bei’s reply and turned her attention to Dr. Chen. “My mother called you? I know you’re both old colleagues, but I can’t believe she would just call you like that?”
As Dr. Chen thought about how to answer her, Xingjia’s eyes suddenly flashed a knowing look.
“OMG! You and my mother were more than just colleagues,” Xingjia gasped.
Dr. Chen nodded, “yes, we were… many years ago.”
“Just don’t tell me that you’re my real father, okay?! I couldn’t handle that right now. You’re not are you? Please tell me you’re not!”
“I’m not, Xingjia. Sadly, I’m not. It would be an honor to be your father, but I met your mother after you were already on the scene. You were as cute and bright a little girl as I ever saw.”
“You saw me?”
“Once, yes–you were around eight. It was a party at your parent’s house.”
“Wow,” Xingjia said, shaking her head.
“So, you and my mother…”
“Yes, we were close,” Dr. Chen said. “But it was an impossible situation… your mother chose to work things out with your father.”
Suddenly Xingjia began to cry… “Why? Why did she choose to do that?”
Dr. Chen replied softly. “She had a daughter. You know?”
“Yes, but now I’m starting to understand a lot more…” she wiped her eyes. “She must’ve loved you?”
“I loved her too. Still do.” Dr. Chen confessed.
Bei looked on sympathetically.
“All these years I only thought about my dad having affairs, never mom. How could I not know?”
“We know when we’re ready to know,” Dr. Chen said. “Something has changed in you, so that now you are here having this conversation.”
Xingjia struggled to take all this in, trying to regain her focus. “She called you… You guided my dad to Bei’s sister! Why did you do that?”
“It was just an intuition. I had no way of knowing for sure if your father would even want to practice Tai Chi again. You mother mentioned that he needed some new activities to get him out of the house, so he would stop obsessing about you. I asked her about your dad, you know? What did he used to like to do, did ever have any hobbies? When she mentioned Tai Chi, something just clicked! I felt something, an intuition. I know, it makes me seem like the worst meddler.”
Xingjia looked at Dr. Chen, half sympathetically. “Well at least you’re not my father… For a second I actually hoped you were, but then that would make us siblings, wouldn’t it?” She said, looking at Bei.
They all burst out laughing, as tensions eased.
“You’ll still have to face your father,” Dr. Chen said. “There’s no getting around that.”
“Yes, I know. But this is all so weird, you know?” She looked at Bei. “You’ve met my father. And he has no idea who you are?”
“Or what I am either, for that matter,” Bei replied. “He thinks that my sister and me and our brother are all normal human beings… He actually said that he wished his daughter could meet some nice guys like me and Ling, and he showed us your photo.”
“You are kidding! He said that!? OMG, that’s like the fathers that used to shop their daughter’s photos and resumes in Tiantan park! He’s crazy! This is so crazy!”
“He thinks he’s looking out for you,” Dr. Chen said. “He wants you to find a good husband, like every good father does.”
Xingjia grew silent for a moment, then said “where is all this going? Do you know, Dr. Chen?”
“No, but I can’t wait to find out,” Dr. Chen replied, sounding totally fascinated.
The next morning, Bei’s repairs were completed, and by Monday evening he was home having dinner with Xingjia. Over the following week and on into the next week, Bei and Xingjia’s life settled into a happy routine for the most part–and then came Wednesday evening, March 19. Xingjia had acquiesced to Bei’s urging to invite his brother Long and his wife Li Quing over for dinner. Bei cooked Kung pao chicken, and everyone was having a good time until Long and Xingjia begin to discuss the issue of trust. Long quoted statistical studies that showed that more women and men might have a sexual tryst outside of marriage, if there was “no way they could be caught.” Long rattled off a list of compiled statistics seamlessly, as if reading bullet-points. (Which both Long and Bei knew was actually what Long was doing.)
Long had stated:
Xingjia protested, “I’m familiar with this research, but what’s your point exactly?!”
“Well, it seems that fear of being caught is a significant deterrent for… people.” Long answered.
“Of course it is! No one wants to break-up or threaten a relationship they’ve worked hard to build, especially if there are children involved. This is why a much smaller percentage of married women have affairs.” Xingjia said, emphatically.
“Admit to having had an affair,” Long corrected, having emphasized the word admit.
“What are you saying? That these women are lying?” Xingjia asked incredulously.
“It’s possible?” Long replied, shrugging. “Perhaps an irrational fear of getting caught prevented them from answering factually.”
“So, you’re saying you can’t trust hardly anyone, then–right?” Xingjia asked heatedly.
“Well, it depends on what you mean by trust? Sexual behavior is in part a way of creating trust, and facilitates bonding. In fact, all primates are rather promiscuous. Look at the studies of the bonobos along the Congo in Africa.”
“We’re not bonobos Long, we’re human beings. And I can’t help but wonder why you’re so fascinated with this subject? Don’t you trust people? Or, is it yourself you don’t trust?”
Li Quing attempted to reduce tensions. “Oh he’s just a Scorpio, you know? Trust is one of his main obsessions.”
“Really? You think astrology works the same for companions as it does for humans?” Xingjia countered, upset.
“What do you mean?” Bei asked, looking askance. “You think astrology is more of a human phenomenon, and less so for companions?”
“Not really,” Xingjia replied, a bit defensively.
“I think she does,” Long countered.
“No! You’re the one comparing humans with bonobos, and acting so smug–as if you as an android companion are somehow superior to us untrustworthy promiscuous humans!”
Long exchanged looks with Li Quing, and then with Bei.
“Are you interested in discussing this any further,” Long asked, finally realizing he had already gone too far.
“No, not now. I’m too angry,” Xingjia said, staring at the table. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m the one that should apologize,” Long said, as Quing looked on sympathetically. “Whenever the Moon is in Aries, Long tends to become more of an asshole,” Quing apologized. “Really?” Long said, mockingly defensive.
“Listen, at the risk of making this worse. I want to say something,” Bei interjected.
Xingjia made a frown as she looked up, and then looked at Bei.
“Number one, it’s about context. Astrology is an equally helpful frame of reference for both humans and companions, but we have to consider our differences as well. These differences are context.”
“You sound a little like your Dad,” Xingjia said, almost smiling as her anger started to fade.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Bei replied. “And second,” he continued, “in terms of trust. Xingjia is right, it begins with ourselves. Whatever we don’t trust in ourselves, will prevent us from trusting others.”
“That is deep bro,” Long remarked, and tensions subsided.
Later that night, after Long and Quing had left, Xingjia had sat lotus style in front of Bei in their bed and stared into his eyes. “Do you think I’m an untrustworthy promiscuous human?” she had asked Bei.
“I think you thought you were once,” Bei answered quietly, “but that you don’t think that so much anymore.”
“Yes,” Xingjia had replied, “you’re right, I’m changing…”
Two days later, on Friday, March 21, 2121, twelve days since the incident with Shen Bo at Tiantan Park, Bei received a text from Dr. Chen inviting him to stop by his office on his lunch break. Bei was early as usual. Dr. Chen was apparently elsewhere in the building, as Bei sat out in the waiting area. He hadn’t seen Dr. Chen since Monday the 11th–the day he had gone home after testing the repairs in his thigh. Bei had been quite prolific recently with his journal entries, and he was curious to see if Dr. Chen had any feedback for him. Even though he knew that he and Xingjia would have another counseling session with Dr. Chen in the following week, he craved any private time the two of them might share together. Bei had thought a lot about what had happened that Sunday night at the clinic with Xingjia and Dr. Chen. Lost in remembering that night, Bei did not at first notice Dr. Chen entering the room. “Well, Bei. I’m so glad you could stop by!” Dr. Chen greeted, as Bei emerged from his thoughts and smiled up at Dr. Chen. Bei stood and tried to shake Dr. Chen’s hand, but Dr. Chen gave him a hug instead. “Come on, let’s go into my office.”
A young man set glasses of water on the desk and left, as Bei sat down across from Dr. Chen. “First I wanted to let you know that according to the police and the courts, Shen Bo is going to remain in custody for quite a while,” Dr. Chen began. “The government has a string of charges against him now, and so do we. Even Li Na has filed abuse charges against him, but it will take a while before her case can even be heard. In fact, he’s undergoing psychological evaluation right now. Which has to be done before his cases are presented.”
“I understand,” Bei replied, looking pensive. “It’s justice, I guess?”
“To some extent,” Dr. Chen replied, “but Li Na will never forget Jian…”
“Couldn’t she just order another companion?” Bei asked.
“Don’t sound so cynical,” Dr. Chen chuckled. “It’s a long list Bei, and she’ll be at the bottom of it. Besides, she’s deep in therapy about all this.”
“That’s good, I suppose…” Bei said, spontaneously reviewing images of Li Jian in his mind.
Dr. Chen cleared his throat. “I’ve been reading your journal entries, Bei… You’re on to something, you know?”
“Yes, something, but I don’t know where it’s going?”
“I like these 3 lines in one of your poems the best,” Dr. Chen said, reading:
“I am a glass of water trembling
from a tremor deep somewhere
this is what it means to care”
“Your essays are even better.” He reads: “Everything is vibration, and all vibration carries a message. Not everyone is aware enough to hear or understand it. Whatever anyone does, has a vibration–all action makes a sound, like a pebble tossed into a lake. The action reverberates. There are knowns and unknowns. Let’s assume that on an extreme level of absolute knowing, that there are no secrets. Perhaps this is the deepest intimacy that connects us all. If there are no secrets, then all is known and there is absolute trust. This is a mystical state that many have described. If I find this place of absolute trust within myself, it will connect me with the world.”
Dr. Chen stopped reading and looked at Bei, admiringly. “That’s not bad.”
“Not bad for being a hundred,” Bei smiled slyly.
“A hundred?” Dr. Chen questioned, wondering what he meant.
“A hundred,” Bei replied, explaining “today I am 100 days old.”
Dr. Chen laughed. “Congratulations, Bei”
“Yes, well… it’s only a number,” Bei added.
Dr. Chen laughed harder. “Bei, you’re full of surprises.” Dr. Chen paused. “How is Xingjia?”
“She is fine, I hope.” Bei replied cryptically.
“What do you mean, you hope?” Dr. Chen asked.
“Well, at this moment, she’s on her way to see her father, for the first time, in fact, since before I was awakened.” Bei informed him.
“I see,” Dr Chen replied. “She needs to do this.”
“Yes, she knows,” Bei said, looking thoughtful, wondering how things would go.
At that moment, Xingjia–carrying two gift bags, was riding up the glass elevators to her family home in the Chaoyang District of Beijing she had grown-up in. The mega-monoliths of this apartment complex that comprised the familiar landscape of her childhood and adolescence was called the “Apple neighborhood,” though it no longer resembled the original Apple neighborhood that had been part of Beijing’s vertical neighborhood expansion of the early 21st century. Long gone were the 27-story apartment buildings, whose AC units marred the dull grey soviet style architecture of limited imagination. Instead, 60-story apartment buildings rose like steel and glass crystals jutting from the earth, interlaced with glassed covered pedestrian bridges connecting 5 levels of buildings. At the center around which these apartment monoliths rose, were five levels of landscaped gardens, including apple trees that Xingjia fondly remembered picking green and yellow apples from as a little girl. It was an impressive setting to grow up in, and memories of her childhood flooded her mind as her elevator reached the 48th floor, where a 3-year old girl with her grandmother and a small dog waited-getting on the elevator behind her as she exited. The smells in the hallway were the same. She could almost imagine she was just coming home from college to visit.
Yet, she wasn’t sure what she was coming home to now. Her mother had tried to reassure her that her father seemed less anxious now that he was getting out more and taking his Tai Chi classes. She keep thinking of different approaches in her mind, different ways that she might reach her dad. Somehow she had to find a way to explain to him how hard this decision had been for her to make, and how doing this was changing her life for the better. However, the one thing she knew she could not do, at least at this point, was show her dad a photo of Bei. It would be too much for today, too much of a shock–or even a humiliation for her dad–which would be much worse. Whatever introduction occurred would have to come later, though she had no idea when or under what circumstances Bei and her father would finally meet–assuming her father would even want to. For today, she just had to find a way to reconnect with her dad. “One thing at a time,” she thought as she knocked.
Her mother opened the door. “Xingjia darling. You look so beautiful. Life agrees with you, huh?” Her mom actually winked at her. Xingjia instantly felt naked in front of her mom, but it was more okay now than it used to be. Ever since she had learned about her mom’s relationship with Dr. Chen, she felt closer to her than ever. She understood herself better too. It’s what is not said when you’re growing-up that’s more important than what is said, Xingjia had reminded herself recently. It’s the unsaid that we feel. We see it in our parent’s faces, we feel their pain. Yet, we don’t what it is. We think it’s our fault, that we have disappointed them in some immeasurable and unfathomable way. Had her mother’s unfulfilled longings, become her own as a young woman? Xingjia had contemplated all of this amidst realizations and long talks with her mother on WeChat over the last 12 days. Her mother had cried really hard, when Xingjia told her she knew about Dr. Chen. At first she had tried not to cry, saying “it was a long time ago darling.” Then came the silence, and then came the tears.
Now her mother eyed her daughter up and down, as her eyes turned moist as she looked into her daughter’s eyes. “Here, let me take that,” she said, taking the gift bags from Xingjia and carrying them into the living room. “Your father, will be in in a minute,” she said, setting the gifts down. She smiled at Xingjia encouragingly and went into the kitchen.Xingjia could faintly smell her dads cologne, as she eyed the familiar photos on the table. Her graduation photos were still there, her father beaming with pride as he stood next to her in one photo that he had always said was his favorite. At least the photo is still there, Xingjia thought. Then her father entered, wearing a brown and white patterned shirt that she remembered. “Dad,” Xingjia heard herself say, her voice trembling as she stood up. Her dad waved her down, nonchalantly “sit down, sit down” he said, as he sat down next to her at a slight angle. Her gifts sat on the table in front of them. Her father seemed to be having trouble looking at her, yet he said, “you’re looking well.” Xingjia could see the strain in her father’s face and how he was trying to manage his anxiety. Suddenly she felt sorry for him.
“Dad, I brought you a little something.” Xingjia said softly–handing him the larger package.
He eyed it curiously and then, as if to reluctantly relieve her of a burden–sighed, and took the package from her. He nodded slightly at Xingjia and almost smiled and then slowly began to open it. It seemed to take forever, but finally he removed the lid of what looked like a shirt box and removed a dark blue Tai Chi shirt and then pants.
“It’s the traditional Tai Chi clothing…” Xingjia said.
“I know what it is,” her father replied. He ran his fingers over the material appreciatively. “You don’t expect me to try it on right now, do you?” he asked.
“No, no, please. I just hope it fits,” she said. “If it doesn’t, let me know. I’ve got the receipts and I can exchange it.”
Her father nodded. Then he looked at her, directly. “Thank you. I will let you know.” He searched her face. “Why don’t you come to Tai Chi class with me one day? I’ve met some wonderful new people. Not just old people like me, either. There’s some people your age there.”
Xingjia was totally caught off guard by this invitation, and struggled–hesitating.
“There’s some nice guys there. Professional men, successful–in their thirties I think. I will introduce you.”
She wanted desperately to shout “dad I already have a guy!” But instead, she was totally frozen-up. So instead she heard herself say, “okay, maybe sometime I will.”
“When?” her dad pressed.
“I don’t know?” she shrugged.
“What about next weekend, Saturday, a week from tomorrow? It’s our last class of this series and we’re going to have an outdoor lunch afterwards.”
“Okay,” she heard herself say. “That sounds good.” Her knees were shaking.
“And don’t bring that robot with you either!” her dad suddenly interjected.
“He’s not a robot!” Xingjia snapped.
“Okay. An-droid,” her father said really slowly and sarcastically.
“I’ll come by myself,” Xingjia stated firmly, trying to control her anger.
Her mother had heard everything they were saying, and decided to make her entrance.
“We’ve got noodles with shrimp,” she said, looking at both of them.
“Your father’s a better cook, really,” she added, “but noodles with shrimp I can do.”
“Let’s eat,” she said.
“Everything alright?” She asked Xingjia under her breath as they made their way towards the kitchen.
“Just fine, mom. Totally fine.”
“Good darling, I’m so glad. You don’t know how I’ve hoped for this day.”
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