[table=800,#000000,#000000,1][tr][td] [color=#ffffff]《记忆传授人》是一部科幻小说，2014年科幻电影。描写的故事发生在一个乌托邦世界里。在这个世界里一切事情都在控制之中，人们安居乐业，衣食无忧，也没有战争或痛苦的感觉．大家所要做的事情早在一开始就被确定好，没有改变的可能。孩子们都在规定好的统一模式里长大。当12岁的乔纳思成为新任的“记忆传授人”之后，他却突然发现支撑这个社会的不过是谎言，而人们也在这样的环境下变得越来越冷漠，越来越残酷。于是他决定要改变一切……这是一本颇富创意、鼓励青少年自主思考与行动的优秀少年读物。
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作者简介
洛伊丝·劳里，1937年3月出生于夏威夷，父亲在军中担任牙医，他们一家人也随着军队迁移世界各地。二次大战期间，她住在外祖父母位于宾州的老家，十一岁到上高中之前，则在日本度过。后来她进布朗大学就读，但只修完两年课程便结婚了，直到生完四个孩子后才重拾学业，从南缅因大学毕业。
洛伊丝·劳里的写作生涯起步较晚，四十岁时才尝试完成小时候的梦想——当一名作家。结果却一鸣惊人，如今她不但是世界知名的作家，还获得两次纽伯瑞金牌奖的肯定。除了写作儿童小说、短篇故事，她也撰写评论、专业的论文。
她的写作素材非常广泛，风格多样，有生活幽默小说《阿纳斯塔西亚 克鲁布尼克》（Anastasia Krupnik）、谈战争与屠杀的《数星星》（Number the stars）、描写未来乌托邦社会的《记忆传授人》（The Giver），此外还有涉及收养、精神疾病、癌症等议题的二十多本著作，堪称是一位多才、多变的作家。
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评价
最后的生存逃亡是不可避免的。节奏明快的情节、栩栩如生的角色，将久久萦绕在读者脑际。 ——美国《学校图书期刊》
劳里再一次的巅峰之作，一则引人入胜的冒险故事。 ——美国《出版人周刊》
一本雷霆万钧、易引起共鸣的小说。 ——美国《纽约时报》[/color]
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Chapter 1 It was almost December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened. No. Wrong word, Jonas thought. Frightened meant that deep, sickening feeling of something terrible about to happen. Frightened was the way he had felt a year ago when an unidentified aircraft had overflown the community twice. He had seen it both times. Squinting toward the sky, he had seen the sleek jet, almost a blur at its high speed, go past, and a second later heard the blast of sound that followed. Then one more time, a moment later, from the opposite direction, the same plane. At first, he had been only fascinated. He had never seen aircraft so close, for it was against the rules for Pilots to fly over the community. Occasionally, when supplies were delivered by cargo planes to the landing field across the river, the children rode their bicycles to the riverbank and watched, intrigued, the unloading and then the takeoff directed to the west, always away from the community. But the aircraft a year ago had been different. It was not a squat, fat-bellied cargo plane but a needle-nosed single-pilot jet. Jonas, looking around anxiously, had seen others — adults as well as children — stop what they were doing and wait, confused, for an explanation of the frightening event. Then all of the citizens had been ordered to go into the nearest building and stay there. IMMEDIATELY, the rasping voice through the speakers had said. LEAVE YOUR BICYCLES WHERE THEY ARE. Instantly, obediently, Jonas had dropped his bike on its side on the path behind his family's dwelling. He had run indoors and stayed there, alone. His parents were both at work, and his little sister, Lily, was at the Childcare Center where she spent her after-school hours. Looking through the front window, he had seen no people: none of the busy afternoon crew of Street Cleaners, Landscape Workers, and Food Delivery people who usually populated the community at that time of day. He saw only the abandoned bikes here and there on their sides; an upturned wheel on one was still revolving slowly. He had been frightened then. The sense of his own community silent, waiting, had made his stomach churn. He had trembled. But it had been nothing. Within minutes the speakers had crackled again, and the voice, reassuring now and less urgent, had explained that a Pilot-in-Training had misread his navigational instructions and made a wrong turn. Desperately the Pilot had been trying to make his way back before his error was noticed. NEEDLESS TO SAY, HE WILL BE RELEASED, the voice had said, followed by silence. There was an ironic tone to that final message, as if the Speaker found it amusing; and Jonas had smiled a little, though he knew what a grim statement it had been. For a contributing citizen to be released from the community was a final decision, a terrible punishment, an overwhelming statement of failure. Even the children were scolded if they used the term lightly at play, jeering at a teammate who missed a catch or stumbled in a race. Jonas had done it once, had shouted at his best friend, "That's it, Asher! You're released!" when Asher's clumsy error had lost a match for his team. He had been taken aside for a brief and serious talk by the coach, had hung his head with guilt and embarrassment, and apologized to Asher after the game. Now, thinking about the feeling of fear as he pedaled home along the river path, he remembered that moment of palpable, stomach-sinking terror when the aircraft had streaked above. It was not what he was feeling now with December approaching. He searched for the right word to describe his own feeling. Jonas was careful about language. Not like his friend, Asher, who talked too fast and mixed things up, scrambling words and phrases until they were barely recognizable and often very funny. Jonas grinned, remembering the morning that Asher had dashed into the classroom, late as usual, arriving breathlessly in the middle of the chanting of the morning anthem. When the class took their seats at the conclusion of the patriotic hymn, Asher remained standing to make his public apology as was required. "I apologize for inconveniencing my learning community." Asher ran through the standard apology phrase rapidly, still catching his breath. The Instructor and class waited patiently for his explanation. The students had all been grinning, because they had listened to Asher's explanations so many times before. "I left home at the correct time but when I was riding along near the hatchery, the crew was separating some salmon. I guess I just got distraught, watching them. "I apologize to my classmates," Asher concluded. He smoothed his rumpled tunic and sat down. "We accept your apology, Asher." The class recited the standard response in unison. Many of the students were biting their lips to keep from laughing. "I accept your apology, Asher," the Instructor said. He was smiling. "And I thank you, because once again you have provided an opportunity for a lesson in language. "Distraught' is too strong an adjective to describe salmon-viewing." He turned and wrote "distraught" on the instructional board. Beside it he wrote "distracted." Jonas, nearing his home now, smiled at the recollection. Thinking, still, as he wheeled his bike into its narrow port beside the door, he realized that frightened was the wrong word to describe his feelings, now that December was almost here. It was too strong an adjective. He had waited a long time for this special December. Now that it was almost upon him, he wasn't frightened, but he was ... eager, he decided. He was eager for it to come. And he was excited, certainly. All of the Elevens were excited about the event that would be coming so soon. But there was a little shudder of nervousness when he thought about it, about what might happen. Apprehensive, Jonas decided. That's what I am. "Who wants to be the first tonight, for feelings?" Jonas's father asked, at the conclusion of their evening meal. It was one of the rituals, the evening telling of feelings. Sometimes Jonas and his sister, Lily, argued over turns, over who would get to go first. Their parents, of course, were part of the ritual; they, too, told their feelings each evening. But like all parents — all adults — they didn't fight and wheedle for their turn. Nor did Jonas, tonight. His feelings were too complicated this evening. He wanted to share them, but he wasn't eager to begin the process of sifting through his own complicated emotions, even with the help that he knew his parents could give. "You go, Lily," he said, seeing his sister, who was much younger — only a Seven — wiggling with impatience in her chair. "I felt very angry this afternoon," Lily announced. "My Childcare group was at the play area, and we had a visiting group of Sevens, and they didn't obey the rules at all. One of them — a male; I don't know his name — kept going right to the front of the line for the slide, even though the rest of us were all waiting. I felt so angry at him. I made my hand into a fist, like this." She held up a clenched fist and the rest of the family smiled at her small defiant gesture. "Why do you think the visitors didn't obey the rules?" Mother asked. Lily considered, and shook her head. "I don't know. They acted like...like..." "Animals?" Jonas suggested. He laughed. "That's right," Lily said, laughing too. "Like animals." Neither child knew what the word meant, exactly, but it was often used to describe someone uneducated or clumsy, someone who didn't fit in. "Where were the visitors from?" Father asked. Lily frowned, trying to remember. "Our leader told us, when he made the welcome speech, but I can't remember. I guess I wasn't paying attention. It was from another community. They had to leave very early, and they had their midday meal on the bus." Mother nodded. "Do you think it's possible that their rules may be different? And so they simply didn't know what your play area rules were?" Lily shrugged, and nodded. "I suppose." "You've visited other communities, haven't you?" Jonas asked. "My group has, often." Lily nodded again. "When we were Sixes, we went and shared a whole school day with a group of Sixes in their community." "How did you feel when you were there?" Lily frowned. "I felt strange. Because their methods were different. They were learning usages that my group hadn't learned yet, so we felt stupid." Father was listening with interest. "I'm thinking, Lily," he said, "about the boy who didn't obey the rules today. Do you think it's possible that he felt strange and stupid, being in a new place with rules that he didn't know about?" Lily pondered that. "Yes," she said, finally. "I feel a little sorry for him," Jonas said, "even though I don't even know him. I feel sorry for anyone who is in a place where he feels strange and stupid." "How do you feel now, Lily?" Father asked. "Still angry?" "I guess not," Lily decided. "I guess I feel a little sorry for him. And sorry I made a fist." She grinned. Jonas smiled back at his sister. Lily's feelings were always straightforward, fairly simple, usually easy to resolve. He guessed that his own had been, too, when he was a Seven. He listened politely, though not very attentively, while his father took his turn, describing a feeling of worry that he'd had that day at work: a concern about one of the new children who wasn't doing well. Jonas's father's title was Nurturer. He and the other Nurturers were responsible for all the physical and emotional needs of every new child during its earliest life. It was a very important job, Jonas knew, but it wasn't one that interested him much. "What gender is it?" Lily asked. "Male," Father said. "He's a sweet little male with a lovely disposition. But he isn't growing as fast as he should, and he doesn't sleep soundly. We have him in the extra care section for supplementary nurturing, but the committee's beginning to talk about releasing him." "Oh, no," Mother murmured sympathetically. "I know how sad that must make you feel." Jonas and Lily both nodded sympathetically as well. Release of new children was always sad, because they hadn't had a chance to enjoy life within the community yet. And they hadn't done anything wrong. There were only two occasions of release which were not punishment. Release of the elderly, which was a time of celebration for a life well and fully lived; and release of a new child which always brought a sense of what-could-we-have-done. This was especially troubling for the Nurturers, like Father, who felt they had failed somehow. But it happened very rarely. "Well," Father said, "I'm going to keep trying. I may ask the committee for permission to bring him here at night, if you don't mind. You know what the night-crew Nurturers are like. I think this little guy needs something extra." "Of course," Mother said, and Jonas and Lily nodded. They had heard Father complain about the night crew before. It was a lesser job, night-crew nurturing, assigned to those who lacked the interest or skills or insight for the more vital jobs of the daytime hours. Most of the people on the night crew had not even been given spouses because they lacked, somehow, the essential capacity to connect to others, which was required for the creation of a family unit. "Maybe we could even keep him," Lily suggested sweetly, trying to look innocent. The look was fake, Jonas knew; they all knew. "Lily," Mother reminded her, smiling, "you know the rules." Two children — one male, one female — to each family unit. It was written very clearly in the rules. Lily giggled. "Well," she said, "I thought maybe just this once." Next, Mother, who held a prominent position at the Department of Justice, talked about her feelings. Today a repeat offender had been brought before her, someone who had broken the rules before. Someone who she hoped had been adequately and fairly punished, and who had been restored to his place: to his job, his home, his family unit. To see him brought before her a second time caused her overwhelming feelings of frustration and anger. And even guilt, that she hadn't made a difference in his life. "I feel frightened, too, for him," she confessed. "You know that there's no third chance. The rules say that if there's a third transgression, he simply has to be released." Jonas shivered. He knew it happened. There was even a boy in his group of Elevens whose father had been released years before. No one ever mentioned it; the disgrace was unspeakable. It was hard to imagine. Lily stood up and went to her mother. She stroked her mother's arm. From his place at the table, Father reached over and took her hand. Jonas reached for the other. One by one, they comforted her. Soon she smiled, thanked them, and murmured that she felt soothed. The ritual continued. "Jonas?" Father asked. "You're last, tonight." Jonas sighed. This evening he almost would have preferred to keep his feelings hidden. But it was, of course, against the rules. "I'm feeling apprehensive," he confessed, glad that the appropriate descriptive word had finally come to him. "Why is that, son?" His father looked concerned. "I know there's really nothing to worry about," Jonas explained, "and that every adult has been through it. I know you have, Father, and you too, Mother. But it's the Ceremony that I'm apprehensive about. It's almost December." Lily looked up, her eyes wide. "The Ceremony of Twelve," she whispered in an awed voice. Even the smallest children — Lily's age and younger — knew that it lay in the future for each of them. "I'm glad you told us of your feelings," Father said. "Lily," Mother said, beckoning to the little girl, "go on now and get into your nightclothes. Father and I are going to stay here and talk to Jonas for a while." Lily sighed, but obediently she got down from her chair. "Privately?" she asked. Mother nodded. "Yes," she said, "this talk will be a private one with Jonas." 十二月就要到了，乔纳思开始感到恐惧。不对，不是恐惧，乔纳思心里想着，恐惧是指对即将发生的事情深感不安。一年前，一架来路不明的飞机在社区上空盘旋了两圈，当时他确实觉得恐惧。那两次，他都亲眼所见。当时他眯着眼睛望着天空，看见那架外型优美的喷气机快速飞掠而过，飞机的身影远去后，才听到它轰轰的声响。过了一会儿，同样一架飞机，又再次从另一端疾飞而来。 起初，他只是单纯地被吸引，因为平常飞行员飞越社区上空是有违规定的，所以以前从没机会这么近距离打量飞机。有时候飞机载运补给品，横越河面后降落在河对岸，孩子们就会骑着自行车，来到河岸，着迷地看着飞机卸货、起飞，最后朝西方远离社区的地方飞去。 但是，一年前的那架飞机不一样。它不是那种外型矮壮、肚子圆鼓鼓的货机，而是一架机头尖尖、单人驾驶的喷气机。当时乔纳思焦虑地四处张望，看见其他人包括大人和小孩，也跟他一样，通通停下手边的工作，困惑地等待着，不知道会发生什么事。 接着所有的居民接到指令，进入最近的建筑物，不准随意走动。扩音器里传出刺耳的声音：“立刻行动，把自行车留在原地。” 乔纳思不假思索，马上把自行车丢在家后头的小径上，跑进屋子里，独自留在屋内。他的父母都外出工作了，妹妹莉莉那时正在幼儿园消磨她下课以后的时光。 他从前面的窗户看出去，街道上空无一人。平常在这时刻，往来频繁的清道夫、环境美化人员和食品送货员，这会儿都不见了。路边到处是被匆忙扔下的自行车，有辆自行车车轮朝天，还在旋转着。 那时他真的害怕，他强烈地感觉到整个社区剑拔弩张的气氛。他的胃不禁剧烈地翻腾起来，身子也不由自主地跟着发抖。 可是，什么也没发生。几分钟之后，扩音器再度响起，这次语气较缓和、轻松，广播员解释说：有位正在受训的驾驶员读错了航行指示说明，所以转错了弯，飞错了方向。 “不用说，他会被解放的。”扩音器里的播音员在播送最后这条消息时，语气带着嘲讽，仿佛自己都觉得有点儿好笑。虽然乔纳思深深明白这种声明背后的严肃意涵，却也不禁微微一笑。对于在社区中奉献心力的市民来说，解放就是最后的判决，是一种可怕的惩罚，一项令人惊惧的失败声明。 如果孩子们在玩游戏时，用这个词语来嘲笑玩伴接球失误或赛跑时跌跤，是会被大人斥责的。乔纳思以前就有过一次这种经历，那次亚瑟犯下一个不该发生的错误，害得他们球队输了比赛，他对自己最要好的朋友大叫：“就这样，亚瑟！你被解放了！”结果他马上被带到旁边去，教练严厉地批评了他一顿。他低头认错，非常惭愧，赛后还跟亚瑟道歉。 现在，他一边沿着河边小径骑着自行车回家，一边回想起那种恐惧的感觉。 他记得那次飞机在天空快速飞行，带给他一种难忘的、胃痉挛的恐惧，这跟现在十二月缓缓逼近所带给他的感受大不相同。他努力寻找最精确的字眼，好形容自己的感觉。 乔纳思对遣词用字一向小心翼翼。不像他的朋友亚瑟，老是说得太快，又夹七夹八的，单字和词组乱用一气，说到最后，让大家听也听不懂，还很有“果笑”。 乔纳思微微一笑，想起那天早上，亚瑟跟平常一样又迟到了。当他上气不接下气地冲进教室时，大家正在唱颂早晨的《圣歌》。等全班同学唱完最后一段爱国者的赞美诗，回到自己的座位时，亚瑟仍旧杵在那儿，按照规定向大家道歉。 “很抱歉，我给共同学习的班级添了麻烦。”亚瑟一边喘气，一边快速地说了一遍标准道歉语。老师和全班同学都耐心地等待他的解释。有的同学则在窃笑，因为大家已听过太多次亚瑟的解释了。 “我准时出门，但是骑车到养殖场附近，看见工作人员在为鲑鱼分类，我实在忧心如焚，就立在旁边呆呆地看着。” “我向所有的同学道歉！”最后亚瑟说完，将皱巴巴的袍子抚平，坐了下来。 “亚瑟，我们接受你的道歉！”全班整齐划一地念诵标准答复，许多同学咬住嘴唇，以免笑出声来。 “亚瑟，我接受你的道歉。”老师也微笑着说，“此外，我还要感谢你又提供一个机会，让大家上上语文课。用‘忧心如焚’这个词来形容对鲑鱼分类的担心，太强烈了一点。”他转身在黑板上写下“忧心如焚”四个字，接着又在旁边写出“有些担心”四个字。 乔纳思快到家了。一想起这件事，不禁又笑了起来。他一边想着，一边把自行车停进门边窄窄的停车位。他也知道用“恐惧”这个词来形容自己的感觉是不对的。现在十二月就要到了，这个形容词太强烈了。 这个别具意义的十二月，他期待已久。既然日子就快到了，他也不用再恐惧了。但是他很……急切——没错，就是这个字眼，他急切地希望日子快点到。当然，他也很兴奋，所有十一岁的孩子对未来要做什么，都很兴奋。可是一想到可能发生的状况，他不禁又紧张得哆嗦了一下。 焦虑，乔纳思决定了，用这个字眼来形容自己目前的心境最准确。 “今天晚上谁第一个志愿分享他的感觉？”在晚餐的最后分享时段，乔纳思的爸爸问。 每天晚上分享他人的感觉，是每户人家的例行活动。有时候，乔纳思和妹妹莉莉会为了谁先讲话而起争执。他们的双亲也会在每天晚上说说他们的感觉，不过，就像所有的父母、所有的大人一样，他们不会为了谁先谁后费心思。 乔纳思今晚也不会，今天晚上他的感觉太复杂了。他想跟大家分享这些感觉，但是即使他知道爸妈会给他协助，他也还不急着跟大家述说自己错综复杂的情绪。 “你先，莉莉。”他对妹妹说。莉莉才七岁，还非常小，她正不耐烦地坐在椅子上扭来扭去。 “今天下午，我好生气，”莉莉开始说话，“我们幼儿园这一班原本在游乐场玩，突然来了另一个也都是七岁孩子的班级。他们完全不遵守规则。其中有个不知道叫什么名字的男孩儿，直接插队到最前面去溜滑梯，根本不管我们这些排队等候的人。我很生气，就把手握成拳头，像这样。” 她把手握紧，变成拳头状。家人看她做出这个挑衅的动作，不禁微笑了起来。 “为什么你会觉得那些孩子不守规矩呢？”妈妈问。 莉莉想了一下，摇摇头：“我不知道，他们的行为就像……就像……” “动物？”乔纳思猜着，然后哈哈笑起来。 “没错，”莉莉也哈哈笑起来，“就像动物。”没有一个孩子确切地知道那是什么意思，不过大家常用这个字眼来形容没有受过教育、笨拙或环境适应能力不良的人。 “那些孩子是从哪里来的？”爸爸问。 莉莉皱皱眉头，努力回想。“老师说过，但是我想不起来。我想我没有很专心听。他们是从另一个社区来的，他们很早就出门，必须在巴士上吃午餐呢。” 妈妈点点头：“你想，会不会是他们的规矩跟我们的不一样？所以不知道你们游乐场的规矩？” 莉莉耸耸肩，点点头：“可能是吧。” “你们不是也拜访过其他社区吗？”乔纳思问，“我们班上常有这种活动。” 莉莉又点点头：“我们六岁时，曾经去另一个社区参观，一整天都跟他们六岁的班级一起生活。” “在那里你有什么感觉？” 莉莉皱皱眉头：“我觉得很奇怪，因为他们的方法跟我们很不一样。他们学习一些我们还没学过的习俗，所以我们觉得自己像笨瓜。” 爸爸兴味十足地听着。“我想，莉莉，”他说，“那个男孩儿为什么不守规矩，你看，那个男孩子来到一个新地方，完全不懂这里的规矩，他会不会也觉得很奇怪，觉得自己像笨瓜？” 莉莉想了一会儿，最后说：“会。” 乔纳思说：“我觉得他蛮可怜的，虽然我不认识他，但是想到有人到了一个陌生的地方，对什么都好奇，又时时觉得自己很笨，我就为他感到难过。” “你现在有什么感觉呢，莉莉？”爸爸问，“还在生气吗？” “不生气了，”莉莉肯定地说，“我想他的确很可怜。很抱歉我曾经气得握拳头。”她微微一笑。 乔纳思也对妹妹笑了笑。莉莉的感觉非常直接、单纯，也非常容易解决。回想自己七岁的时候，应该也是同样的状况吧！ 接下来轮到爸爸说话了，虽然乔纳思不够专心，但仍礼貌地表现出聆听的模样。爸爸解释当天因为有位新生儿成长得不太顺利，让他十分担心。乔纳思的爸爸是个养育师，每位新生儿在生命初期，不管是身体或情绪上的需求，都由像他这样的养育师来负责照顾。这是一份非常重要的工作，但乔纳思很清楚，他对这项工作始终不感兴趣。 “小宝宝是男生还是女生？”莉莉问。 “男生。”爸爸说，“长得很讨人喜欢，性情也很好。但是他的成长速度跟不上同龄的孩子，又睡得不安稳。我们把他转到特别看护区，给他补充更多的营养和照顾。但是，委员会已经在考虑要将他解放。” “天哪！不会吧！”妈妈同情地叫了起来，“我知道你一定会很难过的。” 乔纳思和莉莉也同情地点点头。解放新生儿总是伤感，因为他没犯什么错，就丧失了享受社区生活的机会。 “解放”通常用来惩罚，只有两种情况例外： 一个是对老年人的解放庆典，欢庆一生丰足圆满；另一个就是新生儿的解放仪式，让人有万般无奈的感觉。对于养育师，比如像爸爸这样的人来说，那无异于是宣称自己的任务失败了，幸好这种情况很少发生。 “不过”，爸爸说，“我会加把劲儿努力改善的。我想要求委员会允许我晚上带他回家过夜，希望你们能同意。你们也知道那些夜班养育师的水准，我认为这个小家伙需要特别的照顾。” “当然没问题。”妈妈说，乔纳思和莉莉也点点头。他们以前就听过爸爸抱怨晚班工作人员的素质不佳。由于要求不严，所以晚班的养育工作都由一些缺乏兴趣、技术较差或无法胜任白天工作的人来担任。也因为这样，有许多晚班的工作，是由申请不到配偶的人来担任的，偏偏他们天生缺乏跟别人互动的能力，而这却是建立家庭的必备素质。 “也许，我们可以把他留下来。”莉莉露出甜美的笑容，一副天真无邪的模样。乔纳思很清楚，那表情是装出来的，其他家人也都明白。 “莉莉，”妈妈笑着提醒她，“你明明知道规矩。” 两个小孩——一男加一女，这是每个家庭的标准模式。 社区法则里写得清清楚楚。 莉莉咯咯笑了起来。“好吧！”她说，“我还以为可以破例呢。” 接下来轮到妈妈说她的感受。妈妈在司法院地位很高，今天她审判了一位有前科的违规者。她原本希望这个人在上次犯规后，接受了公平的惩罚，会重新开始工作，融入家庭生活，没想到他又被带到她面前。她感到无比地沮丧和愤怒——她竟然对他的人生毫无影响，这一点甚至让她觉得愧疚。 “我很替他忧心，”她倾诉着，“你们也知道，法则上明明白白地规定，没有第三次机会了，如果第三次违规，就只有解放一条道儿了。”乔纳思打了个冷战，这种事发生过。在他十一岁的班上，有个男孩儿的爸爸在很多年前被解放了。 没有人敢提这件事，因为不光彩的事是禁止讨论的。这实在太难想象了。 莉莉站起来，走到妈妈身边，轻抚着妈妈的手臂。爸爸从他的座位上伸出手，握住妈妈的手。乔纳思则握住妈妈的另一只手。 他们一个接一个安慰妈妈，很快地，妈妈重展笑颜，说谢谢大家，自己的心情好多了。 分享的仪式继续进行，爸爸问：“乔纳思，你今天是最后一个喔。” 乔纳思叹了一口气。今晚，他宁可把自己的情绪隐藏起来，不过，当然喽，这是违反规定的。 “我非常地焦虑。”他坦白道，一边心底暗自高兴，终于找到贴切的字眼。 “为什么会这样呢，儿子？”爸爸露出关怀的神情。 “我知道其实没什么好担心的，”乔纳思解释说，“而且每位成年人都通过了这关。我知道爸爸是，妈妈也一样。现在十二月就快到了，一想到典礼我就焦虑不安。” 莉莉睁大眼睛往上看，用敬畏的声音小声说：“十二岁的典礼哇。”即使是小孩，就像莉莉，或比她更小的，也都知道自己未来要经历这道关卡。 “我很高兴你说出自己的感受。”爸爸说。 “莉莉，”妈妈对小女孩招招手说，“去做该做的事，先把睡衣换上。爸爸和我留在这里，跟乔纳思再多谈一会儿。” 莉莉叹了一口气，顺从地爬下椅子：“是个别谈话吗？”她问。 妈妈点点头说：“对，我们要跟乔纳思单独谈一谈。”

Chapter 2 Jonas watched as his father poured a fresh cup of coffee. He waited. "You know," his father finally said, "every December was exciting to me when I was young. And it has been for you and Lily, too, I'm sure. Each December brings such changes." Jonas nodded. He could remember the Decembers back to when he had become, well, probably a Four. The earlier ones were lost to him. But he observed them each year, and he remembered Lily's earliest Decembers. He remembered when his family received Lily, the day she was named, the day that she had become a One. The Ceremony for the Ones was always noisy and fun. Each December, all the new children born in the previous year turned One. One at a time — there were always fifty in each year's group, if none had been released — they had been brought to the stage by the Nurturers who had cared for them since birth. Some were already walking, wobbly on their unsteady legs; others were no more than a few days old, wrapped in blankets, held by their Nurturers. "I enjoy the Naming," Jonas said. His mother agreed, smiling. "The year we got Lily, we knew, of course, that we'd receive our female, because we'd made our application and been approved. But I'd been wondering and wondering what her name would be." "I could have sneaked a look at the list prior to the ceremony," Father confided. "The committee always makes the list in advance, and it's right there in the office at the Nurturing Center. "As a matter of fact," he went on, "I feel a little guilty about this. But I did go in this afternoon and looked to see if this year's Naming list had been made yet. It was right there in the office, and I looked up number Thirty-six — that's the little guy I've been concerned about — because it occurred to me that it might enhance his nurturing if I could call him by a name. Just privately, of course, when no one else is around." "Did you find it?" Jonas asked. He was fascinated. It didn't seem a terribly important rule, but the fact that his father had broken a rule at all awed him. He glanced at his mother, the one responsible for adherence to the rules, and was relieved that she was smiling. His father nodded. "His name — if he makes it to the Naming without being released, of course — is to be Gabriel. So I whisper that to him when I feed him every four hours, and during exercise and playtime. If no one can hear me. "I call him Gabe, actually," he said, and grinned. "Gabe." Jonas tried it out. A good name, he decided. Though Jonas had only become a Five the year that they acquired Lily and learned her name, he remembered the excitement, the conversations at home, wondering about her: how she would look, who she would be, how she would fit into their established family unit. He remembered climbing the steps to the stage with his parents, his father by his side that year instead of with the Nurturers, since it was the year that he would be given a new child of his own. He remembered his mother taking the new child his sister, into her arms, while the document was read to the assembled family units. "Newchild Twenty-three," the Namer had read. "Lily." He remembered his father's look of delight, and that his father had whispered, "She's one of my favorites. I was hoping for her to be the one." The crowd had clapped, and Jonas had grinned. He liked his sister's name. Lily, barely awake, had waved her small fist. Then they had stepped down to make room for the next family unit. "When I was an Eleven," his father said now, "as you are, Jonas, I was very impatient, waiting for the Ceremony of Twelve. It's a long two days. I remember that I enjoyed the Ones, as I always do, but that I didn't pay much attention to the other ceremonies, except for my sister's. She became a Nine that year, and got her bicycle. I'd been teaching her to ride mine, even though technically I wasn't supposed to." Jonas laughed. It was one of the few rules that was not taken very seriously and was almost always broken. The children all received their bicycles at Nine; they were not allowed to ride bicycles before then. But almost always, the older brothers and sisters had secretly taught the younger ones. Jonas had been thinking already about teaching Lily. There was talk about changing the rule and giving the bicycles at an earlier age. A committee was studying the idea. When something went to a committee for study, the people always joked about it. They said that the committee members would become Elders by the time the rule change was made. Rules were very hard to change. Sometimes, if it was a very important rule — unlike the one governing the age for bicycles — it would have to go, eventually, to The Receiver for a decision. The Receiver was the most important Elder. Jonas had never even seen him, that he knew of; someone in a position of such importance lived and worked alone. But the committee would never bother The Receiver with a question about bicycles; they would simply fret and argue about it themselves for years, until the citizens forgot that it had ever gone to them for study. His father continued. "So I watched and cheered when my sister, Katya, became a Nine and removed her hair ribbons and got her bicycle," Father went on. "Then I didn't pay much attention to the Tens and Elevens. And finally, at the end of the second day, which seemed to go on forever, it was my turn. It was the Ceremony of Twelve." Jonas shivered. He pictured his father, who must have been a shy and quiet boy, for he was a shy and quiet man, seated with his group, waiting to be called to the stage. The Ceremony of Twelve was the last of the Ceremonies. The most important. "I remember how proud my parents looked — and my sister, too; even though she wanted to be out riding the bicycle publicly, she stopped fidgeting and was very still and attentive when my turn came. "But to be honest, Jonas," his father said, "for me there was not the element of suspense that there is with your Ceremony. Because I was already fairly certain of what my Assignment was to be." Jonas was surprised. There was no way, really, to know in advance. It was a secret selection, made by the leaders of the community, the Committee of Elders, who took the responsibility so seriously that there were never even any jokes made about Assignments. His mother seemed surprised, too. "How could you have known?" she asked. His father smiled his gentle smile. "Well, it was clear to me — and my parents later confessed that it had been obvious to them, too — what my aptitude was. I had always loved the new children more than anything. When my friends in my age group were holding bicycle races, or building toy vehicles or bridges with their construction sets, or — " "All the things I do with my friends," Jonas pointed out, and his mother nodded in agreement. "I always participated, of course, because as children we must experience all of those things. And I studied hard in school, as you do, Jonas. But again and again, during free time, I found myself drawn to the new children I spent almost all of my volunteer hours helping in the Nurturing Center. Of course the Elders knew that, from their observation." Jonas nodded. During the past year he had been aware of the increasing level of observation. In school, at recreation time, and during volunteer hours, he had noticed the Elders watching him and the other Elevens. He had seen them taking notes. He knew, too, that the Elders were meeting for long hours with all of the instructors that he and the other Elevens had had during their years of school. "So I expected it, and I was pleased, but not at all surprised, when my Assignment was announced as Nurturer," Father explained. "Did everyone applaud, even though they weren't surprised?" Jonas asked. "Oh, of course. They were happy for me, that my Assignment was what I wanted most. I felt very fortunate." His father smiled. "Were any of the Elevens disappointed, your year?" Jonas asked. Unlike his father, he had no idea what his Assignment would be. But he knew that some would disappoint him. Though he respected his father's work, Nurturer would not be his wish. And he didn't envy Laborers at all. His father thought. "No, I don't think so. Of course the Elders are so careful in their observations and selections." "I think it's probably the most important job in our community," his mother commented. "My friend Yoshiko was surprised by her selection as Doctor," Father said, "but she was thrilled. And let's see, there was Andrei — I remember that when we were boys he never wanted to do physical things. He spent all the recreation time he could with his construction set, and his volunteer hours were always on building sites. The Elders knew that, of course. Andrei was given the Assignment of Engineer and he was delighted." "Andrei later designed the bridge that crosses the river to the west of town," Jonas's mother said. "It wasn't there when we were children." "There are very rarely disappointments, Jonas. I don't think you need to worry about that," his father reassured him. "And if there are, you know there's an appeal process." But they all laughed at that — an appeal went to a committee for study. "I worry a little about Asher's Assignment," Jonas confessed. "Asher's such fun. But he doesn't really have any serious interests. He makes a game out of everything." His father chuckled. "You know," he said, "I remember when Asher was a new child at the Nurturing Center, before he was named. He never cried. He giggled and laughed at everything. All of us on the staff enjoyed nurturing Asher." "The Elders know Asher," his mother said. "They'll find exactly the right Assignment for him. I don't think you need to worry about him. But, Jonas, let me warn you about something that may not have occurred to you. I know I didn't think about it until after my Ceremony of Twelve." "What's that?" "Well, it's the last of the Ceremonies, as you know. After Twelve, age isn't important. Most of us even lose track of how old we are as time passes, though the information is in the Hall of Open Records, and we could go and look it up if we wanted to. What's important is the preparation for adult life, and the training you'll receive in your Assignment." "I know that," Jonas said. "Everyone knows that." "But it means," his mother went on, "that you'll move into a new group. And each of your friends will. You'll no longer be spending your time with your group of Elevens. After the Ceremony of Twelve, you'll be with your Assignment group, with those in training. No more volunteer hours. No more recreation hours. So your friends will no longer be as close." Jonas shook his head. "Asher and I will always be friends," he said firmly. "And there will still be school." "That's true," his father agreed. "But what your mother said is true as well. There will be changes." "Good changes, though," his mother pointed out. "After my Ceremony of Twelve, I missed my childhood recreation. But when I entered my training for Law and Justice, I found myself with people who shared my interests. I made friends on a new level, friends of all ages." "Did you still play at all, after Twelve?" Jonas asked. "Occasionally," his mother replied. "But didn't seem as important to me." "I did," his father said, laughing. "I still do. Every day, at the Nurturing Center, I play bounce-on-the-knee, and peek-a-boo, and hug-the-teddy." He reached over and stroked Jonas's neatly trimmed hair. "Fun doesn't end when you become Twelve." Lily appeared, wearing her nightclothes, in the doorway. She gave an impatient sigh. "This is certainly a very long private conversation," she said. "And there are certain people waiting for their comfort object." "Lily," her mother said fondly, "You're very close to being an Eight, and when you're an Eight, your comfort object will be taken away. It will be recycled to the younger children. You should be starting to go off to sleep without it." But her father had already gone to the shelf and taken down the stuffed elephant which was kept there. Many of the comfort objects, like Lily's, were soft, stuffed, imaginary creatures. Jonas's had been called a bear. "Here you are, Lily-billy," he said. "I'll come help you remove your hair ribbons." Jonas and his mother rolled their eyes, yet they watched affectionately as Lily and her father headed to her sleeping-room with the stuffed elephant that had been given to her as her comfort object when she was born. His mother moved to her big desk and opened her briefcase; her work never seemed to end, even when she was at home in the evening. Jonas went to his own desk and began to sort through his school papers for the evening's assignment. But his mind was still on December and the coming Ceremony. Though he had been reassured by the talk with his parents, he hadn't the slightest idea what Assignment the Elders would be selecting for his future, or how he might feel about it when the day came. 乔纳思耐心地等着爸爸又倒了一杯咖啡。 “你知道，”爸爸终于开口了，“在我小时候，每年的十二月，我都非常兴奋。我很确定你和莉莉也一样。十二月总会带来很多的变化。” 乔纳思点点头，他还记得自己变成四岁的那个十ニ月，之前的十二月他就不复记忆了。不过，他努力地观察了莉莉早年的每个十二月。他还记得他们家接受莉莉的日子，她就在那天接受命名，变成一岁。 为一岁孩子举办的典礼非常热闹、有趣。每年的十二月，所有在这之前一年诞生的新生儿，都变成一岁。每个岁级通常都有五十个小孩——除非有人被解放。打从一出生就负责照料他们的养育师，会把他们带到台上来。有的小孩已经会迈开小腿，摇摇晃晃地走路；有的可能才几天大，还包在襁褓里，由养育师抱着出场。 “我很喜欢命名典礼。”乔纳思说。 妈妈也颇有同感地微笑着：“在接受莉莉那一年，我们当然事先就知道会获得到一名女婴，因为我们提出申请，也获得批准。但是我们很好奇，不知她会叫什么名字。” “在典礼之前，我原本是可以偷偷地溜进去查看名单，” 爸爸说，“因为委员会事先拟好的名单就放在养育中心的办公室里。” “事实上，”爸爸继续说，“这样做会让我觉得不安。但是，今天下午我还是溜进去偷看命名的名单。我赶紧找到第三十六号，也就是我一直很关心的那个小家伙。因为我突然想到，如果我可以叫他的名字，也许他的发育会更好。当然是趁私下里旁边没人的时候才叫。” “你找到了没有？”乔纳思问。他被爸爸的话给吸引住了，虽然爸爸违反的规则不严重，但是光想到爸爸违规，就够他心惊胆战的了。他偷偷瞄了妈妈一眼，因为妈妈平常的工作就是维护法规。还好，妈妈在微笑，他松了一口气。 爸爸点点头：“如果他没在命名典礼前被解放的话，他会叫做加波。所以现在趁着每四个小时喂食的机会，还有做运动和玩游戏的时间，我就这样小声地叫他。只要不被人听见就行了。” “事实上，我是叫他‘加波’。”爸爸说完，笑了一下。 “加波。”乔纳思觉得这是个好名字。 当年，他们家获得莉莉并知道她的名字时，乔纳思才五岁，但他仍清楚地记得家中兴奋的气氛，以及围绕她的话题不知妹妹长什么样子？个性怎样？能不能跟他们一家合得来？他还记得跟着爸爸妈妈上台时，爸爸就站在他身边，因为这年爸爸自己要领新生儿，不是以养育师的身份出席。 他还记得妈妈抱着新妹妹，放到他的臂弯中，在这同时，大会当众宣布文件上的资料：“第二十三号新生儿，莉莉。” 他还记得爸爸笑容满面，小声咕哝着：“她是我最喜欢的宝宝之一，我一直希望就是她。”大家鼓掌庆贺，乔纳思也不禁露齿一笑。他喜欢妹妹的名字。那个时候莉莉已经醒了，正挥舞着小拳头。后来他们便走下台来，让位给下一个家庭。 爸爸开口说道：“当我十一岁、跟你现在一样年纪时，也是急切地等着十二岁典礼的到来。典礼长达两天，但我只对一岁的典礼和妹妹的典礼有兴趣，至于其他的典礼就不怎么在意了。在她九岁那一年，她得到了自行车，事实上，之前我已经用我的自行车，偷偷教她怎么骑了。虽然按规定我不应该这样做。” 乔纳思笑了起来，有些法则大家不是很当一回事，不太遵守，甚至还违规。照规定，孩子会在九岁那年得到自行车，所以九岁以前不准骑车。但是，几乎所有哥哥或姐姐，都会暗地里教弟弟或妹妹。乔纳思自己早就在想要怎样教莉莉了。 大家曾经提议修改法则，要求早一点提供自行车，也成立了专门委员会研究可行性，但始终没有下文，所以现在只要有议题要讨论，大家就会开玩笑地说，等修法完成，委员们早已经变成老人了。 改变规则很难，但如果事关重大——不像只是几岁给自行车这种小事一那就呈报给记忆传承人定夺。记忆传承人是社区里地位最崇高的长老。乔纳思从未看过他，只知道他不轻易露面。不过，委员们是不会拿自行车这种小事去打扰记忆传承人的。他们只会争辩上几年，直到人们忘了这回事。 爸爸继续说：“我兴奋地看着自己的妹妹卡迪雅变成九岁，拿下头发上的蝴蝶结，得到她的自行车。”爸爸说，“至于十岁和十一岁的典礼我本来就心不在焉，我一直在等十二岁庆典，仿佛等了永恒那么久，在第二天结束之前，终于轮到我了——那就是我十二岁的庆典。” 乔纳思颤抖了一下，他在脑海里勾勒着爸爸少年时的模样，他那时一定很害羞、很安静地坐在同伴中，等着被叫上台。十二岁的典礼是整个典礼的压轴，非常重要。 “轮到我的时候，我爸爸妈妈感到无比光荣，我的妹妹也是。虽然她很想到外面光明正大地骑自行车，但是，她一点也不烦躁，反而坐得直直的，非常专注。不过，老实说，乔纳思，这场典礼的悬念对我来说没你的高。”爸爸说，“因为我已经很清楚自己会被指派什么工作。” 乔纳思很惊讶，不可能有人事先知道呀。这是一项秘密工作，由社区的领导者——长老委员会负责遴选。他们的保密工作可以说滴水不漏，甚至在指派工作时也不准开玩笑。 妈妈看起来也很惊讶：“你怎么可能事先知道？” 爸爸露出一贯温和的笑容：“因为情况太明显了——就连我的父母事后也承认，只要根据我的爱好判断，就不难推测出来。我一向喜欢新生儿，当同年龄的朋友在比赛自行车或用积木搭建交通工具、建筑物的时候，或……” “没错，我跟朋友都做这些事。”乔纳思插话说。妈妈也同意地点点头。 “当然，我也参与各种活动，因为孩子本来就应该多方尝试。跟你一样，乔纳思，我在学校也很用功读书。但是，一次又一次，在课余时间，我总是不由自主地被新生儿吸引。我几乎把所有当义工的时间都花在育婴中心。长老们当然知道这件事，他们一直在观察。” 乔纳思点点头，过去这一年，他也意识到长老们对他的观察越来越密切。不管是在学校、娱乐中心或义工时间，长老们都注视着他和其他十一岁孩子的一举一动。他看到过他们写笔记，也知道长老们还跟所有十一岁孩子以往的老师进行了长时间的会谈。 “所以我期待这样的结果，也很开心有这样的结果。听到长老们指派我担任养育师，我一点都不意外。”爸爸说。 “即使是意料中的事，大家还会鼓掌喝采吗？”乔纳思问。 “哦，当然啦，大家都为我高兴，因为这是我最想要的工作，我觉得非常幸运。”爸爸微笑着说。 “在你那一年，有没有哪个十一岁的孩子感到失望？” 乔纳思问。不像爸爸，他对于自己未来可能被指派什么工作，一点儿概念都没有。但他知道有哪些工作自己肯定不喜欢。比方说，虽然爸爸的工作很崇高，但是他一点儿也不想当养育师。劳工也不是他羡慕的对象。 爸爸想了一下。“没有，我想是没有。毕竟长老们在观察和遴选时，是非常小心谨慎的。” “这很可能是我们社区最重要的工作。”妈妈下评论。 “我的朋友尤雪蔻很惊讶自己被指派担任医生。”爸爸说，“知道消息后，她非常激动。让我再想想，还有安德烈，当我们还是小男孩时，他不喜欢运动，休闲时都在盖积木，义工时间也都在基地帮忙。长老当然非常清楚这一点，所以安德烈被指派当工程师，他可以说是如愿以偿。” “安德烈后来设计了那座跨越河面、通往城西的大桥。” 乔纳思的妈妈说，“在我们小时候，还没那座桥。” “乔纳思，很少人志趣不符。你大可不用担心这件事。” 爸爸再次安慰他，“万一你真的不满意，还可以向委员会上诉。”大家一听到“向委员会上诉”，又笑了起来。 “我很替亚瑟担心，不知道他会被指派什么工作？”乔纳思承认，“亚瑟人很风趣，爱开玩笑，但是，缺少比较正经的兴趣。” 爸爸轻声笑了起来：“你知道吗？我记得当亚瑟还是个新生儿、尚未命名的时候，他就从来不哭，整天开心地嘻嘻笑。工作人员都很喜欢照顾他。” “长老们知道亚瑟的个性。”妈妈说，“一定会找到最适当的工作给他。我想你不用为他操心。不过，乔纳思，虽然有些事不见得会发生在你身上，我还是得先警告你。我自己是在十二岁典礼之后才想到这一点。” “什么事？” “你也知道，这是你最后一个升级典礼。十二岁以后，年纪就不再重要，大部分的人甚至在时光流逝之后，忘了自己到底是几岁。不过，如果你想知道，随时可以到开放档案大厅去查。重要的是，我们要为成人以后的生活提前做准备，并且接受工作训练。” “我知道。”乔纳思说，“每个人都知道。” 妈妈继续说：“这意味着你将迈入新的团体，你的每一个朋友都是这样。你不能再跟同年龄的孩子共度时光了。十二岁典礼之后，你会跟指派给你的团体一起受训，再也没有义工时间，也没有娱乐时间。所以朋友之间无法再像从前那样亲近了。” 乔纳思摇摇头说：“亚瑟和我永远都是朋友，”他坚定地说，“我们还会一起上学。” “没错。”爸爸同意，“但是妈妈说的是事实，有些事会改变。” “不过呢，是‘好的’改变。”妈妈指出，“十二岁典礼过后，我很怀念童年无忧无虑的生活：但是当我接受相关的法律和司法训练时，我发现能够和一群志趣相投的人共事，和另一个层面、各种年龄层的人交朋友也很好。” “十二岁以后，您还玩游戏吗？”乔纳思问。 “偶尔。”妈妈回答，“但是不像以前那样重要了。” “我就常玩。”爸爸大笑着说，“到现在还玩。我每天在育婴中心玩青蛙跳、藏猫猫，还有小熊抱抱的游戏。”他伸出手，轻抚着乔纳思修剪整齐的头发，“并不是一到十二岁，就结束所有的玩乐。” 莉莉穿着睡袍出现在门口，不耐烦地叹了一口气：“这次的个别谈话可真长，还有人在等玩具哩。” “莉莉，”妈妈开心地说，“你就快八岁了，一到八岁，填充玩具就要收回去，送给更小的孩子玩，你应该开始学着不抱它睡觉了。” 不过，爸爸已经走到柜子边，把上面的填充大象拿下来。这些填充玩具都是想象中的动物，里头塞满棉花，很柔软，以前乔纳思的是只小熊。 “在这里，莉莉小宝贝。”爸爸说，“我来帮你解开头上的蝴蝶结。” 乔纳思和妈妈翻了翻眼珠子，看着莉莉和爸爸拿着莉莉从出生时就得到的填充大象玩具，朝卧房走去。妈妈走到大桌子边，打开手提箱；即使晚上开夜车，她的工作好像还是永远做不完。乔纳思回到自己的书桌旁，开始构思怎么写报告。不过，他还是牵挂着即将来临的十二月庆典。 和爸爸妈妈谈过后，他安心了不少，但对长老们会分派给他怎样的工作，毫无概念。不知道到时自己会有什么样的感受呢！

Chapter 3 "Oh, look!" Lily squealed in delight. "Isn't he cute? Look how tiny he is! And he has funny eyes like yours, Jonas!" Jonas glared at her. He didn't like it that she had mentioned his eyes. He waited for his father to chastise Lily. But Father was busy unstrapping the carrying basket from the back of his bicycle. Jonas walked over to look. It was the first thing Jonas noticed as he looked at the new child peering up curiously from the basket. The pale eyes. Almost every citizen in the community had dark eyes. His parents did, and Lily did, and so did all of his group members and friends. But there were a few exceptions: Jonas himself, and a female Five who he had noticed had the different, lighter eyes. No one mentioned such things; it was not a rule, but was considered rude to call attention to things that were unsettling or different about individuals. Lily, he decided, would have to learn that soon, or she would be called in for chastisement because of her insensitive chatter. Father put his bike into its port. Then he picked up the basket and carried it into the house. Lily followed behind, but she glanced back over her shoulder at Jonas and teased, "Maybe he had the same Birthmother as you." Jonas shrugged. He followed them inside. But he had been startled by the new child eyes. Mirrors were rare in the community; they weren't forbidden, but there was no real need of them, and Jonas had simply never bothered to look at himself very often even when he found himself in a location where a mirror existed. Now, seeing the new child and its expression, he was reminded that the light eyes were not only a rarity but gave the one who had them a certain look — what was it? Depth, he decided; as if one were looking into the clear water of the river, down to the bottom, where things might lurk which hadn't been discovered yet. He felt self-conscious, realizing that he, too, had that look. He went to his desk, pretending not to be interested in the new child on the other side of the room, Mother and Lily were bending over to watch as Father unwrapped its blanket. "What's his comfort object called?" Lily asked, picking up the stuffed creature which had been placed beside the new child in his basket. Father glanced at it. "Hippo," he said. Lily giggled at the strange word. "Hippo," she repeated, and put the comfort object down again. She peered at the unwrapped new child who waved his arms. "I think new children are so cute," Lily sighed. "I hope I get assigned to be a Birthmother." "Lily!" Mother spoke very sharply. "Don't say that. There's very little honor in that Assignment." "But I was talking to Natasha. You know the Ten who lives around the corner? She does some of her volunteer hours at the Birthing Center. And she told me that the Birthmothers get wonderful food, and they have very gentle exercise periods, and most of the time they just play games and amuse themselves while they're waiting. I think I'd like that," Lily said petulantly. "Three years," Mother told her firmly. "Three births, and that's all. After that they are Laborers for the rest of their adult lives, until the day that they enter the House of the Old. Is that what you want, Lily? Three lazy years, and then hard physical labor until you are old?" "Well, no, I guess not," Lily acknowledged reluctantly. Father turned the new child onto his tummy in the basket. He sat beside it and rubbed its small back with a rhythmic motion. "Anyway, Lily-billy," he said affectionately, "the Birthmothers never even get to see new children. If you enjoy the little ones so much, you should hope for an Assignment as Nurturer." "When you're an Eight and start your volunteer hours, you can try some at the Nurturing Center," Mother suggested. "Yes, I think I will," Lily said. She knelt beside the basket. "What did you say his name is? Gabriel? Hello, Gabriel," she said in a singsong voice. Then she giggled. "Ooops," she whispered. "I think he's asleep I guess I'd better be quiet." Jonas turned to the school assignments on his desk. Some chance of that, he thought. Lily was never quiet. Probably she should hope for an Assignment as Speaker, so that she could sit in the office with the microphone all day, making announcements. He laughed silently to himself, picturing his sister droning on in the self-important voice that all the Speakers seemed to develop, saying things like ATTENTION. THIS IS A REMINDER TO FEMALES UNDER NINE THAT HAIR RIBBONS ARE TO BE NEATLY TIED AT ALL TIMES. He turned toward Lily and noticed to his satisfaction that her ribbons were, as usual, undone and dangling. There would be an announcement like that quite soon, he felt certain, and it would be directed mainly at Lily, though her name, of course, would not be mentioned. Everyone would know. Everyone had known, he remembered with humiliation, that the announcement ATTENTION. THIS IS A REMINDER TO MALE ELEVENS THAT OBJECTS ARE NOT TO BE REMOVED FROM THE RECREATION AREA AND THAT SNACKS ARE TO BE EATEN, NOT HOARDED had been specifically directed at him, the day last month that he had taken an apple home. No one had mentioned it, not even his parents, because the public announcement had been sufficient to produce the appropriate remorse. He had, of course, disposed of the apple and made his apology to the Recreation Director the next morning, before school. Jonas thought again about that incident. He was still bewildered by it. Not by the announcement or the necessary apology; those were standard procedures, and he had deserved them — but by the incident itself. He probably should have brought up his feeling of bewilderment that very evening when the family unit had shared their feelings of the day. But he had not been able to sort out and put words to the source of his confusion, so he had let it pass. It had happened during the recreation period, when he had been playing with Asher. Jonas had casually picked up an apple from the basket where the snacks were kept, and had thrown it to his friend. Asher had thrown it back, and they had begun a simple game of catch. There had been nothing special about it; it was an activity that he had performed countless times: throw, catch; throw, catch. It was effortless for Jonas, and even boring, though Asher enjoyed it, and playing catch was a required activity for Asher because it would improve his hand-eye coordination, which was not up to standards. But suddenly Jonas had noticed, following the path of the apple through the air with his eyes, that the piece of fruit had — well, this was the part that he couldn't adequately understand — the apple had changed. Just for an instant. It had changed in mid-air, he remembered. Then it was in his hand, and he looked at it carefully, but it was the same apple. Unchanged. The same size and shape: a perfect sphere. The same nondescript shade, about the same shade as his own tunic. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about that apple. He had tossed it back and forth between his hands a few times, then thrown it again to Asher. And again — in the air, for an instant only — it had changed. It had happened four times. Jonas had blinked, looked around, and then tested his eyesight, squinting at the small print on the identification badge attached to his tunic. He read his name quite clearly. He could also clearly see Asher at the other end of the throwing area. And he had had no problem catching the apple. Jonas had been completely mystified. "Ash?" he had called. "Does anything seem strange to you? About the apple?" "Yes," Asher called back, laughing. "It jumps out of my hand onto the ground!" Asher had just dropped it once again. So Jonas laughed too, and with his laughter tried to ignore his uneasy conviction that something had happened. But he had taken the apple home, against the recreation area rules. That evening, before his parents and Lily arrived at the dwelling, he had held it in his hands and looked at it carefully. It was slightly bruised now, because Asher had dropped it several times. But there was nothing at all unusual about the apple. He had held a magnifying glass to it. He had tossed it several times across the room, watching, and then rolled it around and around on his desktop, waiting for the thing to happen again. But it hadn't. The only thing that happened was the announcement later that evening over the speaker, the announcement that had singled him out without using his name, that had caused both of his parents to glance meaningfully at his desk where the apple still lay. Now, sitting at his desk, staring at his schoolwork as his family hovered over the new child in its basket, he shook his head, trying to forget the odd incident. He forced himself to arrange his papers and try to study a little before the evening meal. The new child Gabriel, stirred and whimpered, and Father spoke softly to Lily, explaining the feeding procedure as he opened the container that held the formula and equipment. The evening proceeded as all evenings did in the family unit, in the dwelling, in the community: quiet, reflective, a time for renewal and preparation for the day to come. It was different only in the addition to it of the new child with his pale, solemn, knowing eyes. “哦！瞧！”莉莉开心地尖叫着：“他好可爱喔！你们看，个儿这么小！他的眼睛跟你的一样有趣！乔纳思。”乔纳思瞪了她一眼。他最讨厌她老提他的眼睛。他等着爸爸责骂莉莉，可是，爸爸正忙着卸下自行车后座的婴儿篮。乔纳思忍不住也走过去瞧了一眼。 他望着小宝宝，小宝宝也在提篮上回望着他，乔纳思留意到他有一对灰色的眼珠子。 社区里的人几乎都是黑眼珠，他的爸爸妈妈是，莉莉是，他同年级所有的同学和朋友是。只有少数几个人例外，乔纳思就是其中之一，他还注意到有一位五岁的小女生和他一样眼珠颜色比较淡。平常没有人提这些事，规则上也没有限制，但是大家都有这样的默契：不谈论别人的特点或与众不同的地方。乔纳思决心让莉莉早一点学会这一点，否则她早晚会因为口无遮拦而受罚的。 爸爸把自行车放进停车位，提起婴儿篮，进入屋里。莉莉跟在后头，一边回过头来取笑乔纳思：“也许你们是同一个孕母生的！” 乔纳思耸耸肩，跟着进到屋内。不过，他真的被新生儿的眼睛吓了一跳。社区里虽然不禁用镜子，但因为大家觉得用处不大，所以镜子很少。就算去到有镜子的地方，乔纳思也从没想过要照一照，看看自己长什么样。现在看见小宝宝，他猛然想起，灰色的眼珠不但罕见，看起来还有种特别的神韵。是什么呢？……深邃，没错，就好像一眼望进清澈河底那个未知的地带。他突然惊觉，自己就是这种外观。 他走到书桌边，假装对小宝宝没兴趣。在房间的另一头，妈妈和莉莉正弯下腰，观察爸爸解开婴儿篮的带子。 “他的玩具叫什么？”莉莉拿起婴儿篮边的填充玩具，好奇地问。 爸爸看了一眼，回答：“河马。” 莉莉听到“河马”这个奇怪的字眼，吃吃笑着念了一遍，这才放下玩具。她瞄了一眼卸下包巾的小宝宝，发现他正挥舞着小手臂。 “小宝宝好可爱喔，”莉莉叹了一口气，“希望以后我也可以当‘孕母’。” “莉莉！”妈妈大声喝止，“别这么说，那种指派工作并不光彩！” “但是我跟娜塔莎聊过，你们也认识她的，她就住在街角，今年十岁。她在生产中心当过几个小时的义工，她跟我说，孕母的伙食很棒，还做适当的运动，每天悠悠哉哉地吃喝玩乐，等着小宝宝出生。我很喜欢这样的生活啊。”莉莉急忙反驳。 “三年，”妈妈用很坚定的语气说，“生产三次，好日子到此结束。接下来她的人生是劳工，直到进人养老院为止。 这就是你想要的吗？莉莉！先过三年懒散的日子，然后一辈子做苦工？” “好啦，不是啦，我不要这样啦。”莉莉很不情愿地承认。 爸爸让小宝宝翻身趴在婴儿篮里，然后坐在旁边，很有节奏地轻抚着他的背，亲切地说：“莉莉小宝贝，孕母是不能探望小宝宝的。如果你非常喜欢小婴儿，你可以期待跟我一样，当一名养育师。” “当你八岁开始当义工时，可以到育婴中心试试看。”妈妈建议。 “好，我会试试看。”莉莉说，一边在婴儿篮旁边跪下来，“你们说他叫什么名字？加波？哈啰，加波。”她用唱歌似的语调说话，然后吃吃地笑了起来。“糟了，”她马上轻声细语地说，“他想睡觉了，我最好安静一点。” 乔纳思回到书桌继续做作业。他心里暗自好笑，安静？ 怎么可能，莉莉根本就安静不下来。也许她应该当一名播音员，这样就可以整天坐在录音室里，对着麦克风说个不停。 他轻轻笑了一下，脑海中浮现妹妹用播音员特有的那种训练有素、自以为是的声音，不断地说着：请注意！九岁以下的女生请注意！头发上的蝴蝶结必须随时系好！ 他转向莉莉，没错！她的蝴蝶结跟平常一样又松开了,头发凌乱不堪。他确定待会儿就会有针对莉莉的广播。虽然广播员不会指名道姓，可是大家一听就知道指的是谁。 他回想起一次针对他的让他丢脸的广播：请注意！提醒一位十一岁的男孩，娱乐中心的物品不可以擅自带走。点心是用来吃的，不是用来收藏的。这件事发生在上个月，他胡里胡涂地把一个苹果带回家。事后没人再提起这件事，就连爸妈都没提，因为公开广播就够让他难堪的了。当然，第二天上学前他赶紧去归还苹果，还跟娱乐中心的主任道歉。 再次回想这件事，乔纳思心里还是很困惑——不过不是来自广播或道歉，那些都是正常程序，也是他自找的，没什么好意外的，让他困惑的是事件本身。也许当天晚上在家庭分享时间，他就应该把感觉说出来，但是因为找不到确切的用语，所以放弃了。 事件发生在那天的游戏时间，他正在跟亚瑟玩，随手从点心篮里抓起一个苹果，扔给亚瑟，亚瑟又把它扔回来，就这样玩起接物游戏。 一开始并没有什么异常，因为这种游戏他们已经玩过无数回了，一扔一接，一扔一接，对乔纳思来说毫不费劲儿，甚至有些无聊。但是亚瑟喜欢玩，也必须玩，因为这样的活动可以促进手眼协调，在这方面，他还未达标准，有待加强。 但是，当苹果抛到空中的瞬间，他突然发现苹果的某一部分……老实说，到现在他也还搞不太清楚究竟是怎么回事……竟然变了。不过，一落到他的手中，它还是原来的苹果，大小相同，形状相同，依旧是完美的圆形，就跟他的外衣一样。 那个苹果毫不起眼，他用两只手来来回回地扔了几遍，再把它扔给亚瑟。结果在半空中——在转瞬间——它又起了变化。 这种现象总共出现四次。乔纳思眨眨眼，望望四周，决定测试一下自己的视力。他眯着眼睛看外衣辨识标志上的小字，可以很清楚地看见自己的名字，也可以清楚地看见亚瑟在另一头准备接东西，同时他也轻易地接到了苹果。 乔纳思完全胡涂了。 “亚瑟？”他大声地喊，“你有没有注意到这个苹果不太对劲儿？” “有啊，”亚瑟笑嘻嘻地喊回来，“它从我的手里跳到地上！”亚瑟刚才又漏接了一次。 乔纳思笑了笑，刻意掩饰心里的不安。不过，他违反了规定，把苹果带回家。那天傍晚，在爸爸、妈妈和莉莉回家以前，他把苹果握在手里，反复仔细地观察。由于亚瑟有几次失手，把苹果掉在地上摔伤了，但看起来跟其他苹果并没两样。 他找来一柄放大镜观察，又在房间里把它丢过来、丢过去，在书桌上滚过来、滚过去，等着变化再度出现。 但是什么也没发生，他等到的是不久后播音员的广播。〖贼吧Ｚei8。Ｃom电子书下载：Zei8.com 贼吧电子书〗 虽然播音员没有指出他的名字，但爸爸妈妈看到他书桌上的苹果，心里有数。 现在，他坐在书桌旁盯着作业，他的家人则围绕在婴儿篮旁边。他摇摇头，想要忘掉那件不愉快的往事。他强迫自己专心写报告，在晚餐前念点功课。篮子里的小宝宝加波开始不安地扭动，咿咿呜呜地说话。爸爸打开放着处方和设备的容器，轻声地对莉莉解说该怎么喂宝宝吃东西。 夜晚像往常一样降临，每个家庭、每座住宅、整个社区，按照正常的节奏运作，为明天做准备。但他们家跟以往不同，那就是多了一个眼珠灰色、清澈、仿佛明了一切的小宝宝。

Chapter 4 Jonas rode at a leisurely pace, glancing at the bike ports beside the buildings to see if he could spot Asher's. He didn't often do his volunteer hours with his friend because Asher frequently fooled around and made serious work a little difficult. But now, with Twelve coming so soon and the volunteer hours ending, it didn't seem to matter. The freedom to choose where to spend those hours had always seemed a wonderful luxury to Jonas; other hours of the day were so carefully regulated. He remembered when he had become an Eight, as Lily would do shortly, and had been faced with that freedom of choice. The Eights always set out on their first volunteer hour a little nervously, giggling and staying in groups of friends. They almost invariably did their hours on Recreation Duty first, helping with the younger ones in a place where they still felt comfortable. But with guidance, as they developed self-confidence and maturity, they moved on to other jobs, gravitating toward those that would suit their own interests and skills. A male Eleven named Benjamin had done his entire nearly-Four years in the Rehabilitation Center, working with citizens who had been injured. It was rumored that he was as skilled now as the Rehabilitation Directors themselves, and that he had even developed some machines and methods to hasten rehabilitation. There was no doubt that Benjamin would receive his Assignment to that field and would probably be permitted to bypass most of the training. Jonas was impressed by the things Benjamin had achieved. He knew him, of course, since they had always been group mates but they had never talked about the boy's accomplishments because such a conversation would have been awkward for Benjamin. There was never any comfortable way to mention or discuss one's successes without breaking the rule against bragging, even if one didn't mean to. It was a minor rule, rather like rudeness, punishable only by gentle chastisement. But still. Better to steer clear of an occasion governed by a rule which would be so easy to break. The area of dwellings behind him, Jonas rode past the community structures, hoping to spot Asher's bicycle parked beside one of the small factories or office buildings. He passed the Childcare Center where Lily stayed after school, and the play areas surrounding it. He rode through the Central Plaza and the large Auditorium where public meetings were held. Jonas slowed and looked at the nametags on the bicycles lined up outside the Nurturing Center. Then he checked those outside Food Distribution; it was always fun to help with the deliveries, and he hoped he would find his friend there so that they could go together on the daily rounds, carrying the cartons of supplies into the dwellings of the community. But he finally found Asher's bicycle — leaning, as usual, instead of upright in its port, as it should have been — at the House of the Old. There was only one other child's bicycle there, that of a female Eleven named Fiona. Jonas liked Fiona. She was a good student, quiet and polite, but she had a sense of fun as well, and it didn't surprise him that she was working with Asher today. He parked his bicycle neatly in the port beside theirs and entered the building. "Hello, Jonas," the attendant at the front desk said. She handed him the sign-up sheet and stamped her own official seal beside his signature. All of his volunteer hours would be carefully tabulated at the Hall of Open Records. Once, long ago, it was whispered among the children, an Eleven had arrived at the Ceremony of Twelve only to hear a public announcement that he had not completed the required number of volunteer hours and would not, therefore, be given his Assignment. He had been permitted an additional month in which to complete the hours, and then given his Assignment privately, with no applause, no celebration: a disgrace that had clouded his entire future. "It's good to have some volunteers here today," the attendant told him. "We celebrated a release this morning, and that always throws the schedule off a little, so things get backed up." She looked at a printed sheet. "Let's see. Asher and Fiona are helping in the bathing room. Why don't you join them there? You know where it is, don't you?" Jonas nodded, thanked her, and walked down the long hallway. He glanced into the rooms on either side. The Old were sitting quietly, some visiting and talking with one another, others doing handwork and simple crafts. A few were asleep. Each room was comfortably furnished, the floors covered with thick carpeting. It was a serene and slow-paced place, unlike the busy centers of manufacture and distribution where the daily work of the community occurred. Jonas was glad that he had, over the years, chosen to do his hours in a variety of places so that he could experience the differences. He realized, though, that not focusing on one area meant he was left with not the slightest idea — not even a guess — of what his Assignment would be. He laughed softly. Thinking about the Ceremony again, Jonas? he teased himself. But he suspected that with the date so near, probably all of his friends were, too. He passed a Caretaker walking slowly with one of the Old in the hall. "Hello, Jonas," the young uniformed man said, smiling pleasantly. The woman beside him, whose arm he held, was hunched over as she shuffled along in her soft slippers. She looked toward Jonas and smiled, but her dark eyes were clouded and blank. He realized she was blind. He entered the bathing room with its warm moist air and scent of cleansing lotions. He removed his tunic, hung it carefully on a wall hook, and put on the volunteer's smock that was folded on a shelf. "Hi, Jonas!" Asher called from the corner where he was kneeling beside a tub. Jonas saw Fiona nearby, at a different tub. She looked up and smiled at him, but she was busy, gently washing a man who lay in the warm water. Jonas greeted them and the caretaking attendants at work nearby. Then he went to the row of padded lounging chairs where others of the Old were waiting. He had worked here before; he knew what to do. "Your turn, Larissa," he said, reading the nametag on the woman's robe. "I'll just start the water and then help you up." He pressed the button on a nearby empty tub and watched as the warm water flowed in through the many small openings on the sides. The tub would be filled in a minute and the water flow would stop automatically. He helped the woman from the chair, led her to the tub, removed her robe, and steadied her with his hand on her arm as she stepped in and lowered herself. She leaned back and sighed with pleasure, her head on a soft cushioned headrest. "Comfortable?" he asked, and she nodded, her eyes closed. Jonas squeezed cleansing lotion onto the clean sponge at the edge of the tub and began to wash her frail body. Last night he had watched as his father bathed the new-child. This was much the same: the fragile skin, the soothing water, the gentle motion of his hand, slippery with soap. The relaxed, peaceful smile on the woman's face reminded him of Gabriel being bathed. And the nakedness, too. It was against the rules for children or adults to look at another's nakedness; but the rule did not apply to new children or the Old. Jonas was glad. It was a nuisance to keep oneself covered while changing for games, and the required apology if one had by mistake glimpsed another's body was always awkward. He couldn't see why it was necessary. He liked the feeling of safety here in this warm and quiet room; he liked the expression of trust on the woman's face as she lay in the water unprotected, exposed, and free. From the corner of his eye he could see his friend Fiona help the old man from the tub and tenderly pat his thin, naked body dry with an absorbant cloth. She helped him into his robe. Jonas thought Larissa had drifted into sleep, as the Old often did, and he was careful to keep his motions steady and gentle so he wouldn't wake her. He was surprised when she spoke, her eyes still closed. "This morning we celebrated the release of Roberto," she told him. "It was wonderful." "I knew Roberto!" Jonas said. "I helped with his feeding the last time I was here, just a few weeks ago. He was a very interesting man." Larissa opened her eyes happily. "They told his whole life before they released him," she said. "They always do. But to be honest," she whispered with a mischievous look, "some of the tellings are a little boring. I've even seen some of the Old fall asleep during tellings — when they released Edna recently. Did you know Edna?" Jonas shook his head. He couldn't recall anyone named Edna. "Well, they tried to make her life sound meaningful. And of course," she added primly, "all lives are meaningful, I don't mean that they aren't. But Edna. My goodness. She was a Birthmother, and then she worked in Food Production for years, until she came here. She never even had a family unit." Larissa lifted her head and looked around to make sure no one else was listening. Then she confided, "I don't think Edna was very smart." Jonas laughed. He rinsed her left arm, laid it back into the water, and began to wash her feet. She murmured with pleasure as he massaged her feet with the sponge. "But Roberto's life was wonderful," Larissa went on, after a moment. "He had been an Instructor of Elevens — you know how important that is — and he'd been on the Planning Committee. And — goodness, I don't know how he found the time — he also raised two very successful children, and he was also the one who did the landscaping design for the Central Plaza. He didn't do the actual labor, of course." "Now your back. Lean forward and I'll help you sit up." Jonas put his arm around her and supported her as she sat. He squeezed the sponge against her back and began to rub her sharp-boned shoulders. "Tell me about the celebration." "Well, there was the telling of his life. That is always first. Then the toast. We all raised our glasses and cheered. We chanted the anthem. He made a lovely good-bye speech. And several of us made little speeches wishing him well. I didn't, though. I've never been fond of public speaking. "He was thrilled. You should have seen the look on his face when they let him go." Jonas slowed the strokes of his hand on her back thoughtfully. "Larissa," he asked, "what happens when they make the actual release? Where exactly did Roberto go?" She lifted her bare wet shoulders in a small shrug. "I don't know. I don't think anybody does, except the committee. He just bowed to all of us and then walked, like they all do, through the special door in the Releasing Room. But you should have seen his look. Pure happiness, I'd call it." Jonas grinned. "I wish I'd been there to see it." Larissa frowned. "I don't know why they don't let children come. Not enough room, I guess. They should enlarge the Releasing Room." "We'll have to suggest that to the committee. Maybe they'd study it," Jonas said slyly, and Larissa chortled with laughter. "Right!" she hooted, and Jonas helped her from the tub. 乔纳思骑得很慢，试着在各栋建筑物的停车棚里找亚瑟的自行车。他不常跟朋友一起当义工，因为亚瑟爱打闹，会增加工作的难度。不过，十二岁就快到了，义工的时间和次数即将结束，一起工作影响不大。 能够自由选择当义工的地点，对乔纳思来说，是一天当中最棒的时光，因为其他的时间都被安排得满满当当。 他还记得自己八岁时，面对自由选择的情形。莉莉很快也就会有这样的机会。八岁的孩子第一次当义工，心中难免紧张，喜欢咯咯笑着招朋引伴。结果大家几乎不约而同地选择到娱乐中心帮助年幼的孩子，因为在熟悉的地方比较自在。但是经过适当地引导，他们慢慢地培养出自信，个性也日益成熟，就会慢慢转向有兴趣和符合志向的工作。 有一位名叫本杰明的十一岁男生，整整四年的义工时间就都投注在复健中心，帮助受伤的市民。据说他的技术跟复健中心的主管一样出色，他甚至还研发一些机器和手法来缩短复健时间。大家都相信本杰明一定会被指派到这个领域工作，说不定还可以获准跳过职前训练。 乔纳思非常佩服本杰明的成就，他们相同年龄，互相认识，却从未提过对方的专长，免得难堪。因为即使你不是故意的，可是只要当面提及或讨论别人的成就，就有违反不可吹嘘规定的嫌疑。这属于小规矩，跟鲁莽类似，顶多被当面温和地纠正。但即使如此，最好还是自我控制，连小错都不要犯才好。 住宅区已经落到身后去了，接下来是社区的主要建筑物，乔纳思希望可以在某个工厂或办公大楼外头看见亚瑟的自行车。他经过了莉莉下课后待的育儿中心旁边的游乐区，经过了中心广场和举行公共会议的大会堂，一路慢慢看着。 乔纳思放慢速度，顺着育婴中心外头那一排整整齐齐的自行车，寻找上头的名牌。接着来到食品配送中心——帮忙配送食品是一件很有趣的工作，他希望可以在这儿找到朋友，这样他们就可以把一箱箱的补给品，送给社区里的每户人家。最后，他终于发现了亚瑟的自行车——跟平常一样，不是好好的停在停车位上，而是斜斜地靠着——就靠在养老院的门口。 那里还有另一辆朋友的自行车，是费欧娜的，她今年也十一岁。乔纳思很喜欢费欧娜。她是个好学生，文静又有礼貌，为人也很风趣，因此他一点也不惊讶她会跟亚瑟一起工作。他把自行车紧挨着他们的车停好，然后走进建筑物里。 “你好，乔纳思。”柜台的接待员说。她递给他一张签到单，并在他签名旁边盖上自己的图章。所有他担任义工的时间和次数，都仔细地登录在表格中，保存在开放档案大厅里。孩子们中间悄悄流传着这样一个传说：很久以前，一位十一岁的孩子在升级十二岁的典礼上，大会宣布他义工时间不足，无法获得指派工作，他觉得非常伤心。后来大会答应额外给他一个月时间，让他补足义工服务次数，再单独指派给他一份工作。他就这样既没有获得大家的掌声，也没有在开始工作时得到祝贺，这个污点伴随了他一生。 “这里今天正缺人手。”接待员告诉他，“今天早上我们举行了一场解放庆典，耽搁了工作进度，现在得把落后的追回来。”她看着一张单子说：“亚瑟和费欧娜正在浴室里帮忙，干脆你也加入他们吧。你知道浴室在哪里，是不是？” 乔纳思点点头，谢过她，沿着长长的通道走进去。他瞥了一眼两旁的房间，房里有些老人安静地坐着，有的在交谈，有的在做简单的工艺品，还有一些睡得正甜。每个房间都铺着厚厚的地毯，布置得很舒适。这里是这样宁静、悠闲，节奏跟忙忙碌碌的制造中心和配送中心截然不同。 乔纳思很高兴自己在过去几年选择了不同的地方担任义工，获得了各种不同的经验（虽然他很清楚，就是因为这样他才未能在某个领域有杰出的表现)。他完全没有头绪——就算想猜也无从猜起——自己会被指派什么工作。 他微微一笑，再度想到典礼：乔纳思的未来是什么？随着日期的临近，他猜想他的朋友大都跟他一样心中无数。 看护陪着一位老人家慢慢穿过厅堂，“乔纳思，你好！” 穿制服的年轻人看见他，一边愉快地打招呼，一边小心地扶着身边老妇人的手臂。老人家弓着背，拖着缓慢的脚步往前走。她朝乔纳思的方向望过来，微微一笑，黝黑的眼睛里却空洞无神，乔纳思知道她瞎了。 他走进浴室。里头洋溢着温暖的湿气和沐浴乳的芳香。 他脱下外衣，小心地将它挂在墙壁的挂钩上，从柜子里拿出折叠得整整齐齐的义工罩衫穿上。 “嗨，乔纳思！”亚瑟跪在一个浴盆旁边朝他大叫。乔纳思看见费欧娜在附近另一个浴盆边。她抬头对他一笑，双手继续轻柔地帮躺在温水中的老人洗澡。 乔纳思跟大家打过招呼后，就走向等候区。那儿有一长排的斜背椅，供老人们坐着等候。他以前来过，知道该怎么做。 “莱莉莎，该您啦。”他读着老妇人外袍上的铭牌说，“我先放水，再过来帮您。”他把空浴盆的按钮往下压，温水立即从两侧的水龙头流出来。浴盆会在一分钟后注满，之后自动停水。 他扶着老妇人从椅子上站起来，脱掉她的外衣，并用手撑住她的臂膀，协助她稳稳地跨入浴盆，坐下身体。她缓缓地往后靠，愉悦地呼出一口气，将头枕在柔软的头垫上。 “舒服吗？”他问。她点点头，闭上眼睛。乔纳思站在浴盆外，将清洁乳液挤在海绵上，开始清洗她衰弱的身体。 昨天晚上，他观察过爸爸给小宝宝洗澡的情形。两者其实很接近：肌肤柔弱，需要无刺激性的水质、轻柔的手部动作以及湿滑的肥皂。老妇人脸上放松、祥和的笑容，让他想起加波洗澡的模样。 社区规定不管是大人或小孩，都不可以看别人的裸体，例外的是新生儿或老人。乔纳思比较喜欢这种例外，不像比赛时更换衣服，一个不小心瞥见别人的身体就要道歉，那可真烦人！他始终不了解为什么要制定这条规定。 他喜欢沉浸在浴室里这种温暖、安静和安全的感觉中；他喜欢看着老妇人毫无遮掩地躺在水中，面露信赖的神色。 从眼角余光中，他看见费欧娜正协助一位老人站起来，用吸水性很强的毛巾，轻轻拍干他瘦弱、赤裸的身躯，再帮他穿上罩袍。 乔纳思发现莱莉莎不知不觉进人梦乡了，很多老人都是这样的，所以他很小心地维持规律、轻柔的动作，以免惊醒她。当她闭着眼睛说话时，他着实吃了一惊。 “今天早上，我们为罗伯特举行了一场解放庆典。”她告诉乔纳思，“整个过程太完美了。” “我认识罗伯特！”乔纳思说，“几个礼拜以前我来当义工的时候，还喂他吃东西。他是一位很有趣的人。” 莱莉莎快乐地张开眼睛，“解放以前，委员会照例又介绍了一遍他的生平。不过，老实说，”她用一种调皮的表情说，“有些人的生平听起来挺无聊的。我就看过有些老人在听艾德娜的生平时睡着了。你认识艾德娜吗？” 乔纳思摇摇头，想不起有谁叫做艾德娜。 “嗯，他们想要让她的生平听起来有意义一点。当然喽，”她加强语气说，“所有的生命都是有意义的，我无意批评别人。但是，艾德娜，我的老天，她只是一名孕母，生完孩子后就到食品制造厂工作，最后才来这里。她甚至没有成立家庭呢。” 莱莉莎抬起头张望了一下，确定没有其他人听到，才又继续吐露：“我觉得艾德娜不是很聪明。” 乔纳思笑了笑，冲冲她的左手臂，放入水中，开始洗她的脚。当他用海绵轻轻搓摩时，她不禁发出舒服的呢喃声。 “但是，罗伯特的人生就很精彩。”莱莉莎继续说，“他曾经担任十一岁的老师——你知道，这是多么重要的工作一一他也在企划委员会任过职。而且，真不知他哪来那么多时间，还把两个小孩教养得很好，并且设计了中央广场的景观。当然，他不用亲自动手做。” “现在要洗背了，身子请往前倾，我会帮您坐起来的。” 乔纳思用手臂环住她，协助她坐好。他用海绵搓洗她瘦骨嶙峋的背部：“庆典都做些什么？” “一开始是介绍他的生平，然后举杯祝贺。我们全举起酒杯，欢呼干杯。接着唱赞美诗，然后他发表了一篇感人的告别演说。我们当中也有人发言，祝福他一切顺利。不过，我没有讲。我不喜欢在众人面前讲话。 他很激动，当委员会让他离开的时候，你应该瞧瞧他脸上的表情。” 乔纳思抚背的动作慢了下来，陷入沉思：“莱莉莎，解放到底是怎么一回事？罗伯特到哪里去了？” 她轻耸了一下肩膀：“我也不知道。除了委员会，应该没人知道。他只是对我们鞠个躬，然后就走了出去，跟以往那些人一样，穿过那道特殊的门，进入解放室。但是，你应该看看他的表情，在我来看，那才是真正的幸福和快乐。” 乔纳思微微一笑：“真希望我也在场。” 莱莉莎皱皱眉头：“我不懂他们为什么不让孩子参加。 可能是场地不够大吧！他们应该扩建解放室。” “我们可以跟委员会建议啊，也许他们会考虑的。”乔纳思顽皮地说，莱莉莎听了咯咯大笑。 “没错！”她朗声说着，乔纳思帮她跨出浴盆。

Chapter 5 Usually, at the morning ritual when the family members told their dreams, Jonas didn't contribute much. He rarely dreamed. Sometimes he awoke with a feeling of fragments afloat in his sleep, but he couldn't seem to grasp them and put them together into something worthy of telling at the ritual. But this morning was different. He had dreamed very vividly the night before. His mind wandered while Lily, as usual, recounted a lengthy dream, this one a frightening one in which she had, against the rules, been riding her mother's bicycle and been caught by the Security Guards. They all listened carefully and discussed with Lily the warning that the dream had given. "Thank you for your dream, Lily." Jonas said the standard phrase automatically, and tried to pay better attention while his mother told of a dream fragment, a disquieting scene where she had been chastised for a rule infraction she didn't understand. Together they agreed that it probably resulted from her feelings when she had reluctantly dealt punishment to the citizen who had broken the major rules a second time. Father said that he had had no dreams. "Gabe?" Father asked, looking down at the basket where the new child lay gurgling after his feeding, ready to be taken back to the Nurturing Center for the day. They all laughed. Dream-telling began with Threes. If new children dreamed, no one knew. "Jonas?" Mother asked. They always asked, though they knew how rarely Jonas had a dream to tell. "I did dream last night," Jonas told them. He shifted in his chair, frowning. "Good," Father said. "Tell us." "The details aren't clear, really," Jonas explained, trying to recreate the odd dream in his mind. "I think I was in the bathing room at the House of the Old." "That's where you were yesterday," Father pointed out. Jonas nodded. "But it wasn't really the same. There was a tub, in the dream. But only one. And the real bathing room has rows and rows of them. But the room in the dream was warm and damp. And I had taken off my tunic, but hadn't put on the smock, so my chest was bare. I was perspiring, because it was so warm. And Fiona was there, the way she was yesterday." "Asher, too?" Mother asked. Jonas shook his head. "No. It was only me and Fiona, alone in the room, standing beside the tub. She was laughing. But I wasn't. I was almost a little angry at her, in the dream, because she wasn't taking me seriously." "Seriously about what?" Lily asked. Jonas looked at his plate. For some reason that he didn't understand, he felt slightly embarrassed. "I think I was trying to convince her that she should get into the tub of water." He paused. He knew he had to tell it all, that it was not only all right but necessary to tell all of a dream. So he forced himself to relate the part that made him uneasy. "I wanted her to take off her clothes and get into the tub," he explained quickly. "I wanted to bathe her. I had the sponge in my hand. But she wouldn't. She kept laughing and saying no." He looked up at his parents. "That's all," he said. "Can you describe the strongest feeling in your dream, son?" Father asked. Jonas thought about it. The details were murky and vague. But the feelings were clear, and flooded him again now as he thought. "The wanting," he said. "I knew that she wouldn't. And I think I knew that she shouldn't. But I wanted it so terribly. I could feel the wanting all through me." "Thank you for your dream, Jonas," Mother said after a moment. She glanced at Father. "Lily," Father said, "it's time to leave for school. Would you walk beside me this morning and keep an eye on the new child basket? We want to be certain he doesn't wiggle himself loose." Jonas began to rise to collect his schoolbooks. He thought it surprising that they hadn't talked about his dream at length before the thank you. Perhaps they found it as confusing as he had. "Wait, Jonas," Mother said gently. "I'll write an apology to your instructor so that you won't have to speak one for being late." He sank back down into his chair, puzzled. He waved to Father and Lily as they left the dwelling, carrying Gabe in his basket. He watched while Mother tidied the remains of the morning meal and placed the tray by the front door for the Collection Crew. Finally she sat down beside him at the table. "Jonas," she said with a smile, "the feeling you described as the wanting? It was your first Stirrings. Father and I have been expecting it to happen to you. It happens to everyone. It happened to Father when he was your age. And it happened to me. It will happen someday to Lily. "And very often," Mother added, "it begins with a dream." Stirrings. He had heard the word before. He remembered that there was a reference to the Stirrings in the Book of Rules, though he didn't remember what it said. And now and then the Speaker mentioned it. ATTENTION. A REMINDER THAT STIRRINGS MUST BE REPORTED IN ORDER FOR TREATMENT TO TAKE PLACE. He had always ignored that announcement because he didn't understand it and it had never seemed to apply to him in any way. He ignored, as most citizens did, many of the commands and reminders read by the Speaker. "Do I have to report it?" he asked his mother. She laughed. "You did, in the dream-telling. That's enough." "But what about the treatment? The Speaker says that treatment must take place." Jonas felt miserable. Just when the Ceremony was about to happen, his Ceremony of Twelve, would he have to go away someplace for treatment? Just because of a stupid dream? But his mother laughed again in a reassuring, affectionate way. "No, no," she said. "It's just the pills. You're ready for the pills, that's all. That's the treatment for Stirrings." Jonas brightened. He knew about the pills. His parents both took them each morning. And some of his friends did, he knew. Once he had been heading off to school with Asher, both of them on their bikes, when Asher's father had called from their dwelling doorway, "You forgot your pill, Asher!" Asher had groaned good-naturedly, turned his bike, and ridden back while Jonas waited. It was the sort of thing one didn't ask a friend about because it might have fallen into that uncomfortable category of "being different." Asher took a pill each morning; Jonas did not. Always better, less rude, to talk about things that were the same. Now he swallowed the small pill that his mother handed him. "That's all?" he asked. "That's all," she replied, returning the bottle to the cupboard. "But you mustn't forget. I'll remind you for the first weeks, but then you must do it on your own. If you forget, the Stirrings will come back. The dreams of Stirrings will come back. Sometimes the dosage must be adjusted." "Asher takes them," Jonas confided. His mother nodded, unsurprised. "Many of your group mates probably do. The males, at least. And they all will, soon. Females too." "How long will I have to take them?" "Until you enter the House of the Old," she explained. "All of your adult life. But it becomes routine; after a while you won't even pay much attention to it." She looked at her watch. "If you leave right now, you won't even be late for school. Hurry along. "And thank you again, Jonas," she added, as he went to the door, "for your dream." Pedaling rapidly down the path, Jonas felt oddly proud to have joined those who took the pills. For a moment, though, he remembered the dream again. The dream had felt pleasurable. Though the feelings were confused, he thought that he had liked the feelings that his mother had called Stirrings. He remembered that upon waking, he had wanted to feel the Stirrings again. Then, in the same way that his own dwelling slipped away behind him as he rounded a corner on his bicycle, the dream slipped away from his thoughts. Very briefly, a little guiltily, he tried to grasp it back. But the feelings had disappeared. The Stirrings were gone. 通常，早晨的家庭活动一一分享梦境，乔纳思的贡献很有限，因为他很少做梦。就算偶尔记得一些片断，也无法拼凑起来，说出个所以然。 但是今天早晨与往常很不一样，他前一晚做的梦是那样的鲜明。 当莉莉像往常一样，绘声绘影地详述漫长的梦境时，乔纳思的心思不晓得飞到哪儿去了。这次莉莉又做了一个噩梦，梦中她违反规定，骑着妈妈的自行车，被警卫逮个正着。 大家仔细聆听，并和莉莉讨论梦中所透露的警讯。 “谢谢你提供的梦境。”乔纳思心不在焉地公式化地响应着。他试着集中注意力，听妈妈的梦。妈妈的梦有点零乱，好像是违反了一项她不了解的规定而被人责备。大家认为可能是因为她不愿意对那位再次违法的市民下重罚，才会做这样的梦。 爸爸说他没有做梦。 “加波呢？”爸爸低下头，问婴儿篮里的小宝宝。小宝宝刚吃饱，正咯咯笑着，等着回育婴中心度过白天的时光。 大家全都笑了。述说梦境从三岁开始，出生不久的小宝宝到底会不会做梦，大家都不知道。 “乔纳思呢？”妈妈问。虽然乔纳思很少有梦境可以分享，但他们还是会问。 “昨天晚上我做了一个梦。”乔纳思告诉大家。他换了个坐姿，皱皱眉头。 “很好。”爸爸说，“快点告诉我们吧。” “事实上，细节我已经不太记得了。”乔纳思试图把怪梦重温一遍。 “我好像是在养老院的浴室里。” “你昨天是到那儿去过。”爸爸指出。 乔纳思点点头：“但又不完全像那里，梦中只有一个浴盆，可是养老院的浴室里有一排接一排的浴盆。梦中的房间既潮湿又温暖，我脱下衣服，也没有穿罩衫，全身赤裸。温度太高了，我不断地流汗。费欧娜跟昨天一样，也在那里。” “亚瑟也在吗？”妈妈问。 乔纳思摇摇头：“不在。只有我跟费欧娜单独站在浴盆旁边。她正在笑，不过我没有。我甚至有点儿生她的气，因为她没把我的话当一回事。” “什么话？”莉莉问。 乔纳思盯着自己的盘子，不知道为什么，他觉得有点窘：“我要她进到浴盆里去。” 他迟疑了一下。他知道自己必须说出整个梦境，不能只挑一部分来说，因此，他强迫自己把不安的那部分也说出来。 “我要她脱下衣服，进到浴盆里，”他飞快地解释，“我想帮她洗澡。我手里拿着海绵。但是她不愿意，一直笑着说不要。” 他抬头看着父母：“就是这样。”他说。 “儿子，你可以描述一下梦中那种强烈的感觉吗？”爸爸问。 乔纳思想了一下，过程虽然模糊，但感觉非常清晰，仿佛现在还在他脑海里回旋。“那是一种‘想要’的感觉，”他说，“我明知道她不愿意，也知道不应该这样，却渴望这样做，我可以感觉到我全身上下都充满了这种需求。” “谢谢你让我们分享了你的梦境。”过了一会儿，妈妈开口说话，她瞥了爸爸一眼。 “莉莉，”爸爸说，“上学时间到了。你要不要跟我一起走，顺便帮忙看着婴儿篮里的宝宝？他扭来扭去的，我担心会掉出来呢！” 乔纳思起身去整理课本。他很意外大家竟然没有讨论他的梦境，就跳到最后的谢词。也许他们也跟他一样困惑吧！ “等一下，乔纳思，”妈妈温和地说，“我会写张致歉字条给你的老师，这样你就不必为了迟到道歉。” 他纳闷坐回到椅子上，挥手跟提着加波的婴儿篮的爸爸和莉莉再见，然后看着妈妈整理早餐剩余的菜肴，并将托盘放到前门，方便工作人员收取。 最后，妈妈坐到他身边来：“乔纳思，”她微笑着说，“你所描述的那种强烈的需求感，就是你的第一次‘激情’。爸爸和我一直在期待你产生这样的感觉。这是每个人成长必然会经历的过程，爸爸和我在你这个年纪时都有过。将来有一天莉莉也会有。” “而且通常是从梦里开始的。”妈妈补充道。 激情！他听过这个名词。社区法则中有，只是不记得上头写些什么。广播员也不时提到：“请注意！提醒大家，如果产生激情现象，要往上呈报，以便开处方治疗。” 以前他并不在意这种宣布，因为他听不懂，也从未想过自己会有这些现象。他忽略这项宣布，就像大多数的居民会忽略广播员的很多命令和提醒一样。 “我要不要往上呈报？”他问妈妈。 妈妈笑了：“你已经报告了，就在梦境分享的时间啊。这就够了。” “那治疗呢？广播员说要开处方治疗。”乔纳思觉得很沮丧。怎么会在十二岁典礼前的当儿发生这种事？他会被送到远方治疗吗？就因为他做了一个荒谬的梦？ 妈妈再度露出安心、亲切的笑容，“不用，不用。”她说，“只要服用一些药丸就行了。你已经可以服用药丸了，这就是治疗激情的方法。” 乔纳思顿时开心了起来。他知道药丸是什么，爸爸妈妈每天早上都服用。据他所知，有些朋友也在服用。有一次，他和亚瑟一块儿上学，才刚蹬上自行车，亚瑟的爸爸就在跑道上大叫：“亚瑟，你忘了吃药丸了！”亚瑟温顺地呻吟了一声，调转自行车，骑回屋前。 生活里面有些事是不能问的，即便是朋友也不能问，因为那样做就会“凸显差异”，令人不安。例如亚瑟每天早上服用一颗药丸，乔纳思没有。所以最好只谈论相同点，以免莽撞。 他马上吞下妈妈递给他的小药丸。 “就这样？”他问。 “就这样。”妈妈回答，把瓶子放回柜子里，“今后可别忘了吃。前几个星期我会提醒你，但以后你得自己记住。如果你忘了吃，激情会再度出现，激情的梦境也会再度出现。 有时候，还得看情形调整药量。” “亚瑟也吃药。”乔纳思透露。 妈妈点点头，一点也不惊讶：“你的很多男同学可能都在服用了。女生也快了。” “我必须服用多久？” “直到你进入养老院为止，”她解释，“整个成年生活都要服用。渐渐地这会变成习惯，就像例行公事一样。” 她瞧了瞧手表：“如果你现在出门，可能还不会迟到。快走吧。” “还有，乔纳思，”他走到门口时，她又补充说’“谢谢你让我们分享你的梦境。” 乔纳思飞快地蹬着自行车往前冲，内心隐隐地觉得骄傲，很高兴自己加入服用药丸的行列。他又回想起那个梦，虽然有些困惑，感觉上却很愉悦。 他喜欢妈妈说是“激情”的这种感觉。他记得自己刚醒过来时，曾希望这种感觉能再出现。 当他骑车拐过路口，将家远远地拋在后头时，那个梦境也跟着被拋到脑后了。在那一瞬间，他有点失落，想要把那种感觉抓回来，但是那种感觉消失了，激情不见了。

Chapter 6 "Lily, please hold still," Mother said again. Lily, standing in front of her, fidgeted impatiently. "I can tie them myself," she complained. "I always have." "I know that," Mother replied, straightening the hair ribbons on the little girl's braids. "But I also know that they constantly come loose and more often than not, they're dangling down your back by afternoon. Today, at least, we want them to be neatly tied and to stay neatly tied." "I don't like hair ribbons. I'm glad I only have to wear them one more year," Lily said irritably. "Next year I get my bicycle, too," she added more cheerfully. "There are good things each year," Jonas reminded her. "This year you get to start your volunteer hours. And remember last year, when you became a Seven, you were so happy to get your front-buttoned jacket?" The little girl nodded and looked down at herself, at the jacket with its row of large buttons that designated her as a Seven. Fours, Fives, and Sixes all wore jackets that fastened down the back so that they would have to help each other dress and would learn interdependence. The front-buttoned jacket was the first sign of independence, the first very visible symbol of growing up. The bicycle, at Nine, would be the powerful emblem of moving gradually out into the community, away from the protective family unit. Lily grinned and wriggled away from her mother. "And this year you get your Assignment," she said to Jonas in an excited voice. "I hope you get Pilot. And that you take me flying!" "Sure I will," said Jonas. "And I'll get a special little parachute that just fits you, and I'll take you up to, oh, maybe twenty thousand feet, and open the door, and — " "Jonas," Mother warned. "I was only joking," Jonas groaned. "I don't want Pilot, anyway. If I get Pilot I'll put in an appeal." "Come on," Mother said. She gave Lily's ribbons a final tug. "Jonas? Are you ready? Did you take your pill? I want to get a good seat in the Auditorium." She prodded Lily to the front door and Jonas followed. It was a short ride to the Auditorium, Lily waving to her friends from her seat on the back of Mother's bicycle. Jonas stowed his bicycle beside Mother's and made his way through the throng to find his group. The entire community attended the Ceremony each year. For the parents, it meant two days' holiday from work; they sat together in the huge hall. Children sat with their groups until they went, one by one, to the stage. Father, though, would not join Mother in the audience right away. For the earliest ceremony, the Naming, the Nurturers brought the new children to the stage. Jonas, from his place in the balcony with the Elevens, searched the Auditorium for a glimpse of Father. It wasn't at all hard to spot the Nurturers' section at the front; coming from it were the wails and howls of the new children who sat squirming on the Nurturers' laps. At every other public ceremony, the audience was silent and attentive. But once a year, they all smiled indulgently at the commotion from the little ones waiting to receive their names and families. Jonas finally caught his father's eye and waved. Father grinned and waved back, then held up the hand of the new child on his lap, making it wave, too. It wasn't Gabriel. Gabe was back at the Nurturing Center today, being cared for by the night crew. He had been given an unusual and special reprieve from the committee, and granted an additional year of nurturing before his Naming and Placement. Father had gone before the committee with a plea on behalf of Gabriel, who had not yet gained the weight appropriate to his days of life nor begun to sleep soundly enough at night to be placed with his family unit. Normally such a new child would be labeled Inadequate and released from the community. Instead, as a result of Father's plea, Gabriel had been labeled Uncertain and given the additional year. He would continue to be nurtured at the Center and would spend his nights with Jonas's family unit. Each family member, including Lily, had been required to sign a pledge that they would not become attached to this little temporary guest, and that they would relinquish him without protest or appeal when he was assigned to his own family unit at next year's Ceremony. At least, Jonas thought, after Gabriel was placed next year, they would still see him often because he would be part of the community. If he were released, they would not see him again. Ever. Those who were released — even as new children — were sent Elsewhere and never returned to the community. Father had not had to release a single new child this year, so Gabriel would have represented a real failure and sadness. Even Jonas, though he didn't hover over the little one the way Lily and his father did, was glad that Gabe had not been released. The first Ceremony began right on time, and Jonas watched as one after another each new child was given a name and handed by the Nurturers to its new family unit. For some, it was a first child. But many came to the stage accompanied by another child beaming with pride to receive a little brother or sister, the way Jonas had when he was about to be a Five. Asher poked Jonas's arm. "Remember when we got Phillipa?" he asked in a loud whisper. Jonas nodded. It had only been last year. Asher's parents had waited quite a long time before applying for a second child. Maybe, Jonas suspected, they had been so exhausted by Asher's lively foolishness that they had needed a little time. Two of their group, Fiona and another female named Thea, were missing temporarily, waiting with their parents to receive new children But it was rare that there was such an age gap between children in a family unit. When her family's ceremony was completed, Fiona took the seat that had been saved for her in the row ahead of Asher and Jonas. She turned and whispered to them, "He's cute. But I don't like his name very much." She made a face and giggled. Fiona's new brother had been named Bruno. It wasn't a great name, Jonas thought, like — well, like Gabriel, for example. But it was okay. The audience applause, which was enthusiastic at each Naming, rose in an exuberant swell when one parental pair, glowing with pride, took a male new child and heard him named Caleb. This new Caleb was a replacement child. The couple had lost their first Caleb, a cheerful little Four. Loss of a child was very, very rare. The community was extraordinarily safe, each citizen watchful and protective of all children. But somehow the first little Caleb had wandered away unnoticed, and had fallen into the river. The entire community had performed the Ceremony of Loss together, murmuring the name Caleb throughout an entire day, less and less frequently, softer in volume, as the long and somber day went on, so that the little Four seemed to fade away gradually from everyone's consciousness. Now, at this special Naming, the community performed the brief Murmur-of-Replacement Ceremony, repeating the name for the first time since the loss: softly and slowly at first, then faster and with greater volume, as the couple stood on the stage with the new child sleeping in the mother's arms. It was as if the first Caleb were returning. Another new child was given the name Roberto, and Jonas remembered that Roberto the Old had been released only last week. But there was no Murmur-of-Replacement Ceremony for the new little Roberto. Release was not the same as Loss. He sat politely through the ceremonies of Two and Three and Four, increasingly bored as he was each year. Then a break for midday meal — served outdoors — and back again to the seats, for the Fives, Sixes, Sevens, and finally, last of the first day's ceremonies, the Eights. Jonas watched and cheered as Lily marched proudly to the stage, became an Eight and received the identifying jacket that she would wear this year, this one with smaller buttons and, for the first time, pockets, indicating that she was mature enough now to keep track of her own small belongings. She stood solemnly listening to the speech of firm instructions on the responsibilities of Eight and doing volunteer hours for the first time. But Jonas could see that Lily, though she seemed attentive, was looking longingly at the row of gleaming bicycles, which would be presented tomorrow morning to the Nines. Next year, Lily-billy, Jonas thought. It was an exhausting day, and even Gabriel, retrieved in his basket from the Nurturing Center, slept soundly that night. Finally it was the morning of the Ceremony of Twelve. Now Father sat beside Mother in the audience. Jonas could see them applauding dutifully as the Nines, one by one, wheeled their new bicycles, each with its gleaming nametag attached to the back, from the stage. He knew that his parents cringed a little, as he did, when Fritz, who lived in the dwelling next door to theirs, received his bike and almost immediately bumped into the podium with it. Fritz was a very awkward child who had been summoned for chastisement again and again. His transgressions were small ones, always: shoes on the wrong feet, schoolwork misplaced, failure to study adequately for a quiz. But each such error reflected negatively on his parents' guidance and infringed on the community's sense of order and success. Jonas and his family had not been looking forward to Fritz's bicycle, which they realized would probably too often be dropped on the front walk instead of wheeled neatly into its port. Finally the Nines were all resettled in their seats, each having wheeled a bicycle outside where it would be waiting for its owner at the end of the day. Everyone always chuckled and made small jokes when the Nines rode home for the first time. "Want me to show you how to ride?" older friends would call. "I know you've never been on a bike before!" But invariably the grinning Nines, who in technical violation of the rule had been practicing secretly for weeks, would mount and ride off in perfect balance, training wheels never touching the ground. Then the Tens. Jonas never found the Ceremony of Ten particularly interesting — only time-consuming, as each child's hair was snipped neatly into its distinguishing cut: females lost their braids at Ten, and males, too, relinquished their long childish hair and took on the more manly short style which exposed their ears. Laborers moved quickly to the stage with brooms and swept away the mounds of discarded hair. Jonas could see the parents of the new Tens stir and murmur, and he knew that this evening, in many dwellings, they would be snipping and straightening the hastily done haircuts, trimming them into a neater line. Elevens. It seemed a short time ago that Jonas had undergone the Ceremony of Eleven, but he remembered that it was not one of the more interesting ones. By Eleven, one was only waiting to be Twelve. It was simply a marking of time with no meaningful changes. There was new clothing: different undergarments for the females, whose bodies were beginning to change; and longer trousers for the males, with a specially shaped pocket for the small calculator that they would use this year in school; but those were simply presented in wrapped packages without an accompanying speech. Break for midday meal. Jonas realized he was hungry. He and his group mates congregated by the tables in front of the Auditorium and took their packaged food. Yesterday there had been merriment at lunch, a lot of teasing and energy. But today the group stood anxiously, separate from the other children. Jonas watched the new Nines gravitate toward their waiting bicycles, each one admiring his or her nametag. He saw the Tens stroking their new shortened hair, the females shaking their heads to feel the unaccustomed lightness without the heavy braids they had worn so long. "I heard about a guy who was absolutely certain he was going to be assigned Engineer," Asher muttered as they ate, "and instead they gave him Sanitation Laborer. He went out the next day, jumped into the river, swam across, and joined the next community he came to. Nobody ever saw him again." Jonas laughed. "Somebody made that story up, Ash," he said. "My father said he heard that story when he was a Twelve." But Asher wasn't reassured. He was eyeing the river where it was visible behind the Auditorium. "I can't even swim very well," he said. "My swimming instructor said that I don't have the right boyishness or something." "Buoyancy," Jonas corrected him. "Whatever. I don't have it. I sink." "Anyway," Jonas pointed out, "have you ever once known of anyone — I mean really known for sure, Asher, not just heard a story about it — who joined another community?" "No," Asher admitted reluctantly. "But you can. It says so in the rules. If you don't fit in, you can apply for Elsewhere and be released. My mother says that once, about ten years ago, someone applied and was gone the next day." Then he chuckled. "She told me that because I was driving her crazy. She threatened to apply for Elsewhere." "She was joking." "I know. But it was true, what she said, that someone did that once. She said that it was really true. Here today and gone tomorrow. Never seen again. Not even a Ceremony of Release." Jonas shrugged. It didn't worry him. How could someone not fit in? The community was so meticulously ordered, the choices so carefully made. Even the Matching of Spouses was given such weighty consideration that sometimes an adult who applied to receive a spouse waited months or even years before a Match was approved and announced. All of the factors — disposition, energy level, intelligence, and interests — had to correspond and to interact perfectly. Jonas's mother, for example, had higher intelligence than his father; but his father had a calmer disposition. They balanced each other. Their Match, which like all Matches had been monitored by the Committee of Elders for three years before they could apply for children, had always been a successful one. Like the Matching of Spouses and the Naming and Placement of new children the Assignments were scrupulously thought through by the Committee of Elders. He was certain that his Assignment, whatever it was to be, and Asher's too, would be the right one for them. He only wished that the midday break would conclude, that the audience would reenter the Auditorium, and the suspense would end. As if in answer to his unspoken wish, the signal came and the crowd began to move toward the doors. “莉莉，拜托，不要动。”妈妈又一次说。 莉莉站在妈妈前面，急躁地抱怨：“我自己会绑啦，我一向都自己绑。” “我知道你会。”妈妈一边回答，一边把莉莉辫子上的蝴蝶结拉紧，“不过我也知道，它们一到下午，就散落在你背上了。今天日子特殊，我要你这蝴蝶结整天都整整齐齐的。” ‘‘我不喜欢绑蝴蝶结，还好只要再绑一年就够了。”莉莉生气地说，“明年我还会得到自行车。”说到这里她稍微高兴了一点。 “每年都会有美好的东西。”乔纳思提醒她，“今年你就可以开始当义工了。记不记得去年你七岁时，有多高兴得到前面有扣的夹克呀？” 小女孩点点头，低头看自己的衣服。这件夹克胸前有一排大扣子，说明她七岁了。四岁、五岁和六岁的孩子，全都穿着扣子在背后的外套，这是要他们互相帮忙，学习互助的精神。 穿胸前有扣的夹克，是成长的第一个标志，迈出独立的第一步；九岁时得到的自行车，则象征活动力的扩展，表示他们开始远离呵护他们的家，生活重心逐渐转移到社区。 莉莉挣脱妈妈，咧嘴一笑：“今年你会得到指派的工作。”她兴奋地对乔纳思说，“我希望你当飞行员，那你就可以载着我飞翔。” “我当然会。”乔纳思说，“而且我还会准备一个适合你用的迷你降落伞，然后把你载到空中，嗯，也许两万英尺高，然后打开门……” “乔纳思！”妈妈发出警告。 “开开玩笑啦！”乔纳思叹了一声，说：“我才不想当飞行员。如果我真的被指派当飞行员，我会提出申诉的。” “来吧！”妈妈将莉莉的蝴蝶结再绑紧一点，“乔纳思，你准备好了吗？吃药了没有？我想在观众席找个好位子。” 她催促莉莉出门，乔纳思乖乖跟在后头。 到大礼堂的路并不远，莉莉坐在妈妈的自行车后座，对一路上遇到的朋友挥手。乔纳思把自行车往妈妈的自行车旁边一停，就穿过人群，寻找同年的朋友去了。 每年，全社区的人都会参加这项典礼。对父母来说，这两天等于休假，不用工作，大家一起坐在大礼堂里：孩子们则跟同年龄的同学坐在一起，等到被点名时，再一个一个上台。 爸爸不会马上坐到妈妈身边，因为典礼一开始就是命名大典，养育师要把新生儿带到台上。乔纳思跟十一岁的同学们坐在看台上，用眼光搜寻礼堂，希望看到爸爸的身影。没费多少工夫，他就找到养育师的专属区。小宝宝们就坐在养育师的膝盖上，不时传来号啕大哭或生气大叫的声音。社区的公开典礼，观众都是既安静又专心的，但是在这一年一度的大典上，大家对这群等着接受名字和家庭的小宝宝，总是宽容地微笑着对待。 乔纳思终于和爸爸的目光相遇，他赶紧挥手招呼。爸爸也笑着挥手响应，还把膝盖上小宝宝的手也举起来挥动。 那不是加波，加波回到育儿中心后由工作人员照顾。委员会特别通融，让他在命名典礼和受领之前，再接受一年额外的养育。这个请求是爸爸提出来的，因为他体重不足，晚上睡不安稳，无法交给领养家庭。通常这样的小宝宝会被评定为体能不足，必须解放。 在爸爸的请求下，加波获得一年额外的养育期。他将继续待在育儿中心，晚上则住到乔纳思家。但这一家人，包括年幼的莉莉，都必须签署一份保证书，保证不会对这名小客人产生太强烈的感情。在来年的典礼上，他们必须毫无异议地放弃他，让小宝宝前往指派给他的家庭。 乔纳思心里想，不论明年加波被分配到谁家，起码他是社区的一分子，他们还是可以常看到他。如果他被解放，他们就永远看不到他了。那些被解放的人，包括新生的小宝宝，会被送到别的地方，再也回不来了。 今年爸爸不用解放任何新生儿，如果加波被解放，那不只是失败，也令人伤感。即使乔纳思不像莉莉或爸爸那么喜欢逗弄小宝宝，他还是很高兴加波没有被解放。 典礼准时开始，乔纳思观看一个个小宝宝接受命名，再由养育师亲手交给他的新家庭。有些家庭是第一次接获新生儿，不过也有很多家庭上台时是牵着一名眉开眼笑、得意扬扬的小孩儿，等着领小弟弟或小妹妹，就跟当年他自己五岁的时候一样。 亚瑟戳戳乔纳思的手臂：“你还记得我们获得斐莉的事吗？”他压低声量，不过声音还是很大。乔纳思点点头，那不过是去年的事。亚瑟的父母等了好长一段时间，才申请第二个孩子。乔纳思猜想，也许他们被亚瑟傻里傻气的举止搞得筋疲力尽，所以需要多一点时间来缓冲吧。 他们的两名同学，费欧娜和另一位叫西雅的女生，暂时离开，要跟他们的父母一起上台领新生儿。两个孩子的年龄相差如此悬殊，这种家庭还真是少见。 费欧娜上台后，又回到位于亚瑟和乔纳思前面的座位。 她转过身来悄悄地对他们说：“他好可爱，不过，我不喜欢他的名字。”她做个鬼脸，笑了起来。费欧娜的弟弟叫布鲁诺，是不怎么好，不像……对了，不像加波这么顺耳，不过，也还可以啦。 观众对每一名新生儿的命名都鼓掌欢迎，尤其当大会说出“凯尔博”这个名字时，更报以最热烈的掌声。 这个新凯尔博是要取代另一位同名的小孩。这对父母失去了他们第一个名叫凯尔博的小孩，那时他活泼可爱，才刚四岁。失去孩子非常罕见，因为社区规划完善，每个居民都会注意并保护所有的孩子。但是不知为什么，没人注意到第一个小凯尔博随便乱逛，最后竟然掉到河里淹死了。整个社区为此齐聚一堂举行哀悼仪式，在那一整天里，大家一起轻声呼唤凯尔博的名字，直到这阴沉漫长的一天即将结束，才渐渐把呼唤的频率减慢、声音放柔，就好像这名四岁的小男孩儿逐渐地从大家的意识中消失一般。 现在典礼转为特殊的“呢喃取代仪式”，大家在失去那名小男孩儿后，首度复诵这个名字。一开始是轻柔缓慢地低吟，然后速度渐快，音量渐大，直到这对夫妻站到台上，将熟睡的新生儿安安稳稳地抱在母亲怀里，就好像第一位凯尔博又回来了。 另一位新生儿被命名为罗贝特，乔纳思记得老罗贝特在上星期才刚刚被解放。新的小罗贝特不必举行“呢喃取代仪式”，因为“解放”和“失去”是不一样的。 他耐心地坐着等待两岁、三岁、四岁的典礼结束，这个过程跟往常一样无聊。还好，接下来就是午餐时间，他们在户外用餐后再回到座位上，参加五岁、六岁、七岁的典礼，最后终于等到今天的压轴戏——八岁的典礼。 当莉莉昂首阔步上台时，乔纳思不禁为她欢呼、喝彩。 莉莉晋升为八岁，获得一件可证明身份的夹克，未来的一年，她将穿着这件扣子较小、还缝有口袋的外衣。这说明她已经成熟不少，可以有自己的小物件了。她认真地聆听着八岁的权利和义务，以及开始担任义工的指示。不过，乔纳思很了解莉莉的心思，虽然她一副专心的模样，眼睛却不时瞄着闪闪发亮的自行车——那是明天要送给九岁孩子的礼物。 乔纳思在心里说，莉莉宝贝别急，明年就轮到你了。 这真是累人的一天，就连加波也是从育婴中心带回来，就一觉睡到天亮。 终于，举行十二岁升级典礼的早晨来到了。 现在爸爸坐到妈妈的身边了。当九岁的孩子一个接一个地推着他们贴有闪亮名牌的自行车下台时，乔纳思可以看见爸妈尽职地拍着手。住在隔壁的小孩——佛立玆，上台领自行车时，一个不小心，扑倒在自行车上。佛立兹是个动作笨拙的孩子，经常被找去精神训话。他几乎是小过不断，比如鞋子穿错脚，作业放错地方，随堂测验不过关等等。每项错误都会给他的父母带来难堪。乔纳思和他的家人都不敢对佛立兹的自行车抱以厚望，他们早有心理准备，他的自行车不可能好好地放在停车位上，十之八九会随意丢弃在前门的走终于，九岁的孩子通通回到座位上了。他们要先把自行车推到门外，再回到座位上坐好。当九岁的孩子第一次骑自行车回家时，大家都会微笑着开他们玩笑：“我知道你没骑过自行车，要不要我示范给你看啊？”不过，这些咧着嘴笑的九岁孩子早就技术犯规啦，他们已经偷偷地练习了好几个星期，所以可以平稳地蹬上自行车，熟练地踩着踏板，双脚还不会落地。 接着轮到十岁的孩子。乔纳思一直觉得十岁的典礼很无趣——每个孩子都要修剪头发：女孩子剪掉辫子，男孩子剪掉稚气的长发，露出耳朵，剪成像大人般的短发型。 工作人员拿着扫把上台，很快将剪下来的头发扫干净。 乔纳思看得出来，台下那些十岁孩子的父母一直在交头接耳、议论纷纷。今天晚上，一定会有很多家庭会对这些仓促剪过的头发再加以修整的。 接下来是十一岁，乔纳思觉得自己好像不久前才经历过十一岁的典礼呢！不过，十一岁的典礼也没什么特别。在十一岁之前，大家只是等着十二岁的到来。十一岁只是一个时间的指针，变化不大。他们会得到新衣服：女生因为身体开始产生变化，所以会得到不一样的内衣。男生则会得到较长的长裤，裤子上有形状特殊的口袋，方便他们放置小型计算器一一从这一年开始，他们在学校就会用到了。不过这些衣服都装在袋子里，也不用多加说明。 又到了中午用餐时间。乔纳思觉得好饿，他和同学齐聚在礼堂前面的桌子上，拿出袋子里的食物。昨天的午餐时间非常快乐，大家活蹦乱跳、有说有笑的。但是今天全班都很焦虑，自然的就跟其他年龄的孩子区别出来。乔纳思看见那些刚刚晋升为九岁的孩子，赞叹地欣赏着他们梦寐以求的自行车。他看见十岁的孩子一直在抚摩新发型，女生则轻晃着头，少了辫子感觉很不习惯。 “听说有个家伙以为自己会被指派为工程师，”吃饭时，亚瑟小声告诉乔纳思，“结果却被指派到卫生所当工人。第二天他一气之下离家出走，跳进河里，游到另一个社区，再也没人见过他。” 乔纳思笑着说：“这是人家编出来的啦，我爸爸说他十二岁的时候就听过这个故事了。” 亚瑟可不这么想，他看着礼堂后头那条隐约可见的河流：“我连游泳都游不好，”他说，“游泳教练说我不懂漂力或什么的。” “是浮力。”乔纳思纠正他。 “随便啦，反正我不会游，只会往下沉。” “不管怎么样，”乔纳思指出，“亚瑟，你认识谁——我是说真的认识，不是听说的喔一一去加入别的社区吗？” “没有，”亚瑟很不甘心地承认，“不过，可以这么做的。 法规里说，你如果不适应，可以申请到别的地方，或者被解放。我妈妈说十年前曾经有人提出申请，第二天就离开了。” 他咯咯咯地笑了起来，“她所以会跟我说这个，是因为我快把她逼疯了，她威胁说要把我送走。” “她是在跟你开玩笑。” “我知道，但她说的是真的，真的有人这样做过。她说这是千真万确的事，今天还在这里，明天就走了。再也没人看过他，连解放的仪式都没有。” 乔纳思耸耸肩。他才不担心这个，哪会有人不适应呢？ 委员会在做选择时都非常小心谨慎，指派工作时更是一丝不苟。 就连婚配也是小心翼翼，考量了再考量，所以有时某个成人申请配偶，竟然等了好几个月，甚至好几年，才被批准。 因为所有的因素，例如性情、能力、智力和兴趣都要配合得天衣无缝。比如乔纳思的妈妈智力比较高，可是爸爸的性情比较温和，两人便可互相调和。他们的婚配，跟其他人的婚姻一样，经过长老们三年的观察，同意让他们申请孩子，可见很成功。 配偶的选择、命名、新生儿的家庭配置、工作指派等等，通通都是经过长老会谨慎、严密地考查的。 乔纳思相信不论他被指派什么工作，或亚瑟被指派什么工作，对他们来说都会是最恰当的。他只希望午餐时间赶快结束，观众赶快进入礼堂，让悬念早点解开。 好像是响应他内心的愿望似的，铃声在这时响起，人群开始往礼堂门口移动。

Chapter 7 Now Jonas's group had taken a new place in the Auditorium, trading with the new Elevens, so that they sat in the very front, immediately before the stage. They were arranged by their original numbers, the numbers they had been given at birth. The numbers were rarely used after the Naming. But each child knew his number, of course. Sometimes parents used them in irritation at a child's misbehavior, indicating that mischief made one unworthy of a name. Jonas always chuckled when he heard a parent, exasperated, call sharply to a whining toddler, "That's enough, Twenty-three!" Jonas was Nineteen. He had been the nineteenth new child born his year. It had meant that at his Naming, he had been already standing and bright-eyed, soon to walk and talk. It had given him a slight advantage the first year or two, a little more maturity than many of his group mates who had been born in the later months of that year. But it evened out, as it always did, by Three. After Three, the children progressed at much the same level, though by their first number one could always tell who was a few months older than others in his group. Technically, Jonas's full number was Eleven-nineteen, since there were other Nineteens, of course, in each age group. And today, now that the new Elevens had been advanced this morning, there were two Eleven-nineteens. At the midday break he had exchanged smiles with the new one, a shy female named Harriet. But the duplication was only for these few hours. Very soon he would not be an Eleven but a Twelve, and age would no longer matter. He would be an adult, like his parents, though a new one and untrained still. Asher was Four, and sat now in the row ahead of Jonas. He would receive his Assignment fourth. Fiona, Eighteen, was on his left; on his other side sat Twenty, a male named Pierre whom Jonas didn't like much. Pierre was very serious, not much fun, and a worrier and tattletale, too. "Have you checked the rules, Jonas?" Pierre was always whispering solemnly. "I'm not sure that's within the rules." Usually it was some foolish thing that no one cared about — opening his tunic if it was a day with a breeze; taking a brief try on a friend's bicycle, just to experience the different feel of it. The initial speech at the Ceremony of Twelve was made by the Chief Elder, the leader of the community who was elected every ten years. The speech was much the same each year: recollection of the time of childhood and the period of preparation, the coming responsibilities of adult life, the profound importance of Assignment, the seriousness of training to come. Then the Chief Elder moved ahead in her speech. "This is the time," she began, looking directly at them, "when we acknowledge differences. You Elevens have spent all your years till now learning to fit in, to standardize your behavior, to curb any impulse that might set you apart from the group. "But today we honor your differences. They have determined your futures." She began to describe this year's group and its variety of personalities, though she singled no one out by name. She mentioned that there was one who had singular skills at caretaking, another who loved new children one with unusual scientific aptitude, and a fourth for whom physical labor was an obvious pleasure. Jonas shifted in his seat, trying to recognize each reference as one of his group mates. The caretaking skills were no doubt those of Fiona, on his left; he remembered noticing the tenderness with which she had bathed the Old. Probably the one with scientific aptitude was Benjamin, the male who had devised new, important equipment for the Rehabilitation Center. He heard nothing that he recognized as himself, Jonas. Finally the Chief Elder paid tribute to the hard work of her committee, which had performed the observations so meticulously all year. The Committee of Elders stood and was acknowledged by applause. Jonas noticed Asher yawn slightly, covering his mouth politely with his hand. Then, at last, the Chief Elder called number One to the stage, and the Assignments began. Each announcement was lengthy, accompanied by a speech directed at the new Twelve. Jonas tried to pay attention as One, smiling happily, received her Assignment as Fish Hatchery Attendant along with words of praise for her childhood spent doing many volunteer hours there, and her obvious interest in the important process of providing nourishment for the community. Number One — her name was Madeline — returned, finally, amidst applause, to her seat, wearing the new badge that designated her Fish Hatchery Attendant. Jonas was certainly glad that that Assignment was taken; he wouldn't have wanted it. But he gave Madeline a smile of congratulation. When Two, a female named Inger, received her Assignment as Birthmother, Jonas remembered that his mother had called it a job without honor. But he thought that the Committee had chosen well. Inger was a nice girl though somewhat lazy, and her body was strong. She would enjoy the three years of being pampered that would follow her brief training; she would give birth easily and well; and the task of Laborer that would follow would use her strength, keep her healthy, and impose self-discipline. Inger was smiling when she resumed her seat. Birthmother was an important job, if lacking in prestige. Jonas noticed that Asher looked nervous. He kept turning his head and glancing back at Jonas until the group leader had to give him a silent chastisement, a motion to sit still and face forward. Three, Isaac, was given an Assignment as Instructor of Sixes, which obviously pleased him and was well deserved. Now there were three Assignments gone, none of them ones that Jonas would have liked — not that he could have been a Birthmother, anyway, he realized with amusement. He tried to sort through the list in his mind, the possible Assignments that remained. But there were so many he gave it up; and anyway, now it was Asher's turn. He paid strict attention as his friend went to the stage and stood self-consciously beside the Chief Elder. "All of us in the community know and enjoy Asher," the Chief Elder began. Asher grinned and scratched one leg with the other foot. The audience chuckled softly. "When the committee began to consider Asher's Assignment," she went on, "there were some possibilities that were immediately discarded. Some that would clearly not have been right for Asher. "For example," she said, smiling, "we did not consider for an instant designating Asher an Instructor of Threes." The audience howled with laughter. Asher laughed, too, looking sheepish but pleased at the special attention. The Instructors of Threes were in charge of the acquisition of correct language. "In fact," the Chief Elder continued, chuckling a little herself, "we even gave a little thought to some retroactive chastisement for the one who had been Asher's Instructor of Threes so long ago. At the meeting where Asher was discussed, we retold many of the stories that we all remembered from his days of language acquisition. "Especially," she said, chuckling, "the difference between snack and smack. Remember, Asher?" Asher nodded ruefully, and the audience laughed aloud. Jonas did, too. He remembered, though he had been only a Three at the time himself. The punishment used for small children was a regulated system of smacks with the discipline wand: a thin, flexible weapon that stung painfully when it was wielded. The Childcare specialists were trained very carefully in the discipline methods: a quick smack across the hands for a bit of minor misbehavior; three sharper smacks on the bare legs for a second offense. Poor Asher, who always talked too fast and mixed up words, even as a toddler. As a Three, eager for his juice and crackers at snack time he one day said "smack" instead of "snack" as he stood waiting in line for the morning treat. Jonas remembered it clearly. He could still see little Asher, wiggling with impatience in the line. He remembered the cheerful voice calling out, "I want my smack!" The other Threes, including Jonas, had laughed nervously. "Snack!" they corrected. "You meant snack, Asher!" But the mistake had been made. And precision of language was one of the most important tasks of small children. Asher had asked for a smack. The discipline wand, in the hand of the Childcare worker, whistled as it came down across Asher's hands. Asher whimpered, cringed, and corrected himself instantly. "Snack," he whispered. But the next morning he had done it again. And again the following week. He couldn't seem to stop, though for each lapse the discipline wand came again, escalating to a series of painful lashes that left marks on Asher's legs. Eventually, for a period of time, Asher stopped talking altogether, when he was a Three. "For a while," the Chief Elder said, relating the story, "we had a silent Asher! But he learned." She turned to him with a smile. "When he began to talk again, it was with greater precision. And now his lapses are very few. His corrections and apologies are very prompt. And his good humor is unfailing." The audience murmured in agreement. Asher's cheerful disposition was well known throughout the community. "Asher." She lifted her voice to make the official announcement. "We have given you the Assignment of Assistant Director of Recreation." She clipped on his new badge as he stood beside her, beaming. Then he turned and left the stage as the audience cheered. When he had taken his seat again, the Chief Elder looked down at him and said the words that she had said now four times, and would say to each new Twelve. Somehow she gave it special meaning for each of them. "Asher," she said, "thank you for your childhood." The Assignments continued, and Jonas watched and listened, relieved now by the wonderful Assignment his best friend had been given. But he was more and more apprehensive as his own approached. Now the new Twelves in the row ahead had all received their badges. They were fingering them as they sat, and Jonas knew that each one was thinking about the training that lay ahead. For someone studious male had been selected as Doctor, a female as Engineer, and another for Law and Justice — it would be years of hard work and study. Others, like Laborers and Birthmothers, would have a much shorter training period. Eighteen, Fiona, on his left, was called. Jonas knew she must be nervous, but Fiona was a calm female. She had been sitting quietly, serenely, throughout the Ceremony. Even the applause, though enthusiastic, seemed serene when Fiona was given the important Assignment of Caretaker of the Old. It was perfect for such a sensitive, gentle girl, and her smile was satisfied and pleased when she took her seat beside him again. Jonas prepared himself to walk to the stage when the applause ended and the Chief Elder picked up the next folder and looked down to the group to call forward the next new Twelve. He was calm now that his turn had come. He took a deep breath and smoothed his hair with his hand. "Twenty," he heard her voice say clearly. "Pierre." She skipped me, Jonas thought, stunned. Had he heard wrong? No. There was a sudden hush in the crowd, and he knew that the entire community realized that the Chief Elder had moved from Eighteen to Twenty, leaving a gap. On his right, Pierre, with a startled look, rose from his seat and moved to the stage. A mistake. She made a mistake. But Jonas knew, even as he had the thought, that she hadn't. The Chief Elder made no mistakes. Not at the Ceremony of Twelve. He felt dizzy, and couldn't focus his attention. He didn't hear what Assignment Pierre received, and was only dimly aware of the applause as the boy returned, wearing his new badge. Then: Twenty-one. Twenty-two. The numbers continued in order. Jonas sat, dazed, as they moved into the Thirties and then the Forties, nearing the end. Each time, at each announcement, his heart jumped for a moment, and he thought wild thoughts. Perhaps now she would call his name. Could he have forgotten his own number? No. He had always been Nineteen. He was sitting in the seat marked Nineteen. But she had skipped him. He saw the others in his group glance at him, embarrassed, and then avert their eyes quickly. He saw a worried look on the face of his group leader. He hunched his shoulders and tried to make himself smaller in the seat. He wanted to disappear, to fade away, not to exist. He didn't dare to turn and find his parents in the crowd. He couldn't bear to see their faces darkened with shame. Jonas bowed his head and searched through his mind. What had he done wrong? 礼堂的座位重新调整，乔纳思这个年龄层跟刚刚晋升为十一岁的孩子对调，所以他们现在就坐在讲台前方。 他们是根据原始号码入座的，那号码打从出生后就跟着他们。虽然命名之后号码就很少用了，不过，每个小孩都会记得自己的号码。有时小孩子调皮捣蛋，做父母的就会气得叫他们的号码，意思是捣蛋的小孩没有资格拥有名字。每次乔纳思听见一些父母对还在学步的幼儿怒吼：“够了，二十三号！”他就忍不住笑出来。 乔纳思是十九号，他是当年第十九位出生的新生儿，这意味着在他被命名的时候，已经会站立，视力良好，而且很快就会走路、说话。在前两年，这个位置让他占到一点便宜，因为跟比他晚几个月出生的小宝宝比较，他的发育比较快。 但是等到三岁的时候，就相差不远了。 三岁以后，孩子的发展相当一致，不过透过号码，就可以分辨得出团体中谁比谁大上几个月。严格地说，乔纳思的完整号码是十一?十九号，因为每个不同的年龄层中，都有十九号，这是当然的喽。而今天，因为十岁的孩子已在早上晋升为十一岁，所以这时出现了两个十一岁的十一?十九号。午餐时，他曾跟这位新的十一?十九号——一位名叫海瑞的害羞女生，交换了会心的微笑。 不过，号码重复只有这短短几个小时，很快他就会升为十二岁，不再是十一岁，从此年纪也不再重要了。他跟他的父母一样是个大人了，是个崭新的个体，只不过尚未接受训练而已。 亚瑟是四号，坐在乔纳思前排，他将是第四个接到指派工作的人。 费欧娜是十八号，坐在他的左边。他的另一边则坐着二十号，一位名叫皮亚瑞的男生，乔纳思不太喜欢他。皮亚瑞道貌岸然的，整天愁眉不展，嘴里念念有词：“乔纳思，你有没有检查法则手册？”要不就是不安地嘀咕着：“我不知道这合不合乎规则？”偏偏他担心的又都是一些没人会在意的小事，比如：如果白天起风，可不可以敞开短上衣？可不可以试骑朋友的自行车，体验不同的感觉？ 十二岁典礼由首席长老致词，她是社区的领导人，每十年遴选一次。演说内容千篇一律：先回忆童年和准备时期的快乐时光，再提到紧接着来到的成人生活和责任，派任工作的深层意义，以及即将到来的严格训练。 “时候终于到了，”她把目光移向前排，看着他们，“我们要来认知大家的差异性。过去十一年，你们一直努力学习将自己的行为标准化，并压抑自己的冲动，以免与团体格格不入。 但是今天我们却要赞扬个别差异，因为这将决定你们的未来。” 她开始描述这个年龄层有哪些个别的特质，只不过没指名道姓罢了。她指出有人擅长照顾他人，有人喜欢新生儿，有人具有不凡的科学天分，有人特别喜欢从事体力劳动。乔纳思注意聆听，揣摩长老指的是什么人。擅长照顾他人，毫无疑问是指坐在他左手边的费欧娜，她在为老人洗澡时非常温柔：具有科学天分的可能是班杰明，他已经为复健中心设计了重要的仪器。 他听不出首席长老提及的特性哪个像他——乔纳思。 最后，首席长老对委员会的成员致意，谢谢他们过去这一年来面面俱到地观察。长老会的成员全体起立，接受大家的掌声。乔纳思注意到亚瑟有礼貌的用手遮住嘴巴，打了一个小哈欠。 终于到了典礼的高潮，首席长老叫一号上台，开始指派工作。 派令很长，还附带对这个人做了一点说明。一号很开心地接受鱼类养殖所服务员的工作。乔纳思听到首席长老说一号经常到那里当义工，对提供营养给社区大众很感兴趣。 那位名叫玛德琳的一号，在如雷的掌声中回到座位上，身上配戴着崭新的鱼类养殖所工作证。乔纳思露出恭喜的微笑，他很高兴这项工作分出去了。 二号名叫英格儿，即将担任孕母的工作。乔纳思记得妈妈说过，担任这种工作并不光彩，但是他倒觉得委员会的选择很适当。英格儿虽然有点儿懒，却是个好女孩儿，而且体格强壮。经过短暂的训练后，她可以享受三年被娇宠的好日子。她的体格不但适合生孩子，也能胜任往后的劳动工作。 英格儿微笑着回到座位。虽然声望不高，孕母的工作还是很重要。 亚瑟开始紧张了，不断回头看着乔纳思，惹得督导人员不得不用眼神警告他：不准乱动，向前看！ 三号艾沙克的指定工作是当六岁孩子的老师。这是他盼望的工作，所以乐不可支。现在有三项工作有适当人选了，但没有一项是乔纳思喜欢的。他调侃地想：当然，他是不可能当孕母的。 他把工作项目细细地想了一遍，剩下的工作中，他可能分派到哪项呢？其中有很多是他没兴趣的。不管如何，接下来轮到亚瑟了。 乔纳思专注地看着亚瑟上台，扭捏地站在首席长老身边。 “我们都认识亚瑟，也很喜欢亚瑟。”首席长老说。亚瑟咧嘴笑了笑，用一只脚去搔另一只脚，观众不禁轻笑了起来。 “委员会在考虑亚瑟的指派工作时，很快就发现有些工作很明显地不适合亚瑟。比方说，”她开始微笑，“我们就不会考虑让亚瑟当三岁孩子的老师。” 观众哄堂大笑。亚瑟也跟着大笑，虽然样子看起来有点儿不好意思，却似乎很高兴能引起众人的注意。三岁孩子的老师得特别留意孩子正确的遣词用字。 “事实上，”首席长老忍不住“噗嗤”一声笑了出来：“我们还想去追究一下责任，到底是谁担任亚瑟三岁时的老师呢！打从他开始学习语言，我们就不停地开会讨论他的问题。” 她带着浅浅的笑意说：“尤其是关于‘沙拉’和‘打打’之间的差异性。记得吗，亚瑟？” 亚瑟羞赧地点点头，观众再度大笑。乔纳思也不例外。 虽然当时他才三岁，但对这些事记得很清楚。 社区里有一把专用来管教不听话小孩儿的戒尺。这把戒尺薄薄的，很有弹性，打下去很痛。育儿中心的专家们都受过良好的训练技巧：犯小过，轻轻打一下手心；第二次犯错，就加点力道，在脚上打三下。 可怜的亚瑟，打从学步开始，不是说话太快，就是乱用词语。三岁的时候，有一次在吃点心时间，他很想喝果汁、吃饼干，当他排队领点心的时候，竟然把“蛋蛋”说成“打打”。 乔纳思记得很清楚，那情景仿佛还在眼前：小亚瑟在队伍中很不耐烦地扭着身子，然后用稚嫩可爱的声音大叫：“我要打打。” 其他的三岁小孩，包括乔纳思，全都紧张地叫了起来，纠正他：“蛋蛋！亚瑟，你要的是蛋蛋！”但是错误已经形成了，而小小孩最重要的工作，就是精确地使用语言。既然亚瑟要求“打打”，育儿中心的工作人员便拿起戒尺，“啪” 的一声，在亚瑟的手上打了一下。亚瑟缩了一下，呜呜咽咽地小声更正：“蛋蛋。” 但是第ニ天早上，他再度犯错，接下来的一个礼拜也是一样。他就是改不过来，每次，都换来更严厉的痛打，结果腿上留下一道道清晰的伤痕。后来有好长一段时间，他索性不再说话。 “有好一阵子，”首席长老继续说，“我们的亚瑟非常沉默。但是他终于学会了！” 她笑容满面地看着他：“当他再度开口时，遣词用字精确多了。现在他已很少犯错，即使犯错也会及时更正和道歉。他的幽默感是永不枯竭的。”观众低声表示同意。亚瑟开朗活泼的个性社区里无人不知。 “亚瑟，”她提高音量，准备发表正式的派令，“你被分配到娱乐中心担任主任助理。 她微笑着把工作证戴在他的身上。亚瑟转身走下讲台，所有的观众齐声欢呼。当他回到座位上时，首席长老低头注视着他，说出那句她已说了三次，而且还会继续对所有晋升为十二岁的孩子说的一句话。只不过，这句话对每个人都有不同的意义。 “亚瑟，”她说，“谢谢你奉献了你的童年。” 分配工作继续进行，乔纳思专心观看和聆听着，由于好朋友获得理想的指派工作，让他大大松了一口气。可是，就快要轮到他上台了，他显得越来越不安。坐在第一排的十二岁孩子全都领到工作证了，他们坐在位子上把玩着。乔纳思知道每个人脑海中想着的是随之而来的训练，比如医生、工程师、法官，这些工作都需要经过多年的努力和研究才能胜任；其他工作，比如劳工和孕母，训练时间就短多了。 十八号，坐在他左边的费欧娜，已经上台了。乔纳思知道她很紧张，但费欧娜是个冷静的女孩儿，在整个典礼进行中，她始终安静、沉稳地坐着。 在众人热诚的欢呼声中，费欧娜接受照顾老年人的工作。让这么一位善解人意、温和有礼的女孩子来担任这项工作，实在是太理想了。费欧娜再度坐回乔纳思身边时，嘴角浮现着满足、愉快的笑意。 当掌声渐息、首席长老拿起下一个档案夹注视着台下时，乔纳思准备好要走上台去。终于轮到他了，他平静下来，深深吸了一口气，用手顺了顺头发。 “二十号他听见她清晰的语调，“皮亚瑞。” 她跳过我了，乔纳思愣在那里。他有没有听错？没有。 全体观众突然间安静了下来，他知道全社区的人都发现首席长老漏掉一个号码，从十八号直接跳到二十号。在他右边的皮亚瑞带着惊讶的表情，从座位上站起来，走向讲台。 错了，她弄错了。不过乔纳思知道这只是他一厢情愿的想法，她不可能犯错的，尤其是在这么重要的十二岁典礼上。 他觉得头晕脑涨，没办法集中注意力。他没有听到皮亚瑞获得什么工作，只隐约感觉到掌声响起，皮亚瑞戴着工作证回到座位上。接着是二十一号、二十二号。 分配工作按照号码顺序继续进行着。乔纳思恍恍惚惚地坐着，听着号码一路进展到三十号……然后四十号，慢慢接近尾声。每叫一个号码，他的心就怦怦乱跳，他的脑袋开始胡思乱想……也许接下来就会叫到他了。难道是他忘了自己的号码吗？不可能。他一直是十九号，他就坐在标示着十九号的座位上啊。 可是她跳过他了。他看见同学们对他投来关注的眼神，但很快地又赶紧移开。他也看见督导员脸上担心的神情。 他缩着肩膀，让座位里的自己看起来小一点。他希望自己消失不见，逐渐隐没，根本不存在。他不敢转身看人群中父母的神情，他受不了看见父母脸上蒙上羞愧的阴影。 乔纳思低下头，苦苦思索着，他到底做错了什么？

Chapter 8 The audience was clearly ill at ease. They applauded at the final Assignment; but the applause was piecemeal, no longer a crescendo of united enthusiasm. There were murmurs of confusion. Jonas moved his hands together, clapping, but it was an automatic, meaningless gesture that he wasn't even aware of. His mind had shut out all of the earlier emotions: the anticipation, excitement, pride, and even the happy kinship with his friends. Now he felt only humiliation and terror. The Chief Elder waited until the uneasy applause subsided. Then she spoke again. "I know," she said in her vibrant, gracious voice, "that you are all concerned. That you feel I have made a mistake." She smiled. The community, relieved from its discomfort very slightly by her benign statement, seemed to breathe more easily. It was very silent. Jonas looked up. "I have caused you anxiety," she said. "I apologize to my community." Her voice flowed over the assembled crowd. "We accept your apology," they all uttered together. "Jonas," she said, looking down at him, "I apologize to you in particular. I caused you anguish." "I accept your apology," Jonas replied shakily. "Please come to the stage now." Earlier that day, dressing in his own dwelling, he had practiced the kind of jaunty, self-assured walk that he hoped he could make to the stage when his turn came. All of that was forgotten now. He simply willed himself to stand, to move his feet that felt weighted and clumsy, to go forward, up the steps and across the platform until he stood at her side. Reassuringly she placed her arm across his tense shoulders. "Jonas has not been assigned," she informed the crowd, and his heart sank. Then she went on. "Jonas has been selected." He blinked. What did that mean? He felt a collective, questioning stir from the audience. They, too, were puzzled. In a firm, commanding voice she announced, "Jonas has been selected to be our next Receiver of Memory." Then he heard the gasp — the sudden intake of breath, drawn sharply in astonishment, by each of the seated citizens. He saw their faces; the eyes widened in awe. And still he did not understand. "Such a selection is very, very rare," the Chief Elder told the audience. "Our community has only one Receiver. It is he who trains his successor. "We have had our current Receiver for a very long time," she went on. Jonas followed her eyes and saw that she was looking at one of the Elders. The Committee of Elders was sitting together in a group; and the Chief Elder's eyes were now on one who sat in the midst but seemed oddly separate from them. It was a man Jonas had never noticed before, a bearded man with pale eyes. He was watching Jonas intently. "We failed in our last selection," the Chief Elder said solemnly. "It was ten years ago, when Jonas was just a toddler. I will not dwell on the experience because it causes us all terrible discomfort." Jonas didn't know what she was referring to, but he could sense the discomfort of the audience. They shifted uneasily in their seats. "We have not been hasty this time," she continued. "We could not afford another failure." "Sometimes," she went on, speaking now in a lighter tone, relaxing the tension in the Auditorium, "we are not entirely certain about the Assignments, even after the most painstaking observations. Sometimes we worry that the one assigned might not develop, through training, every attribute necessary. Elevens are still children, after all. What we observe as playfulness and patience — the requirements to become Nurturer — could, with maturity, be revealed as simply foolishness and indolence. So we continue to observe during training, and to modify behavior when necessary. "But the Receiver-in-training cannot be observed, cannot be modified. That is stated quite clearly in the rules. He is to be alone, apart, while he is prepared by the current Receiver for the job which is the most honored in our community." Alone? Apart? Jonas listened with increasing unease. "Therefore the selection must be sound. It must be a unanimous choice of the Committee. They can have no doubts, however fleeting. If, during the process, an Elder reports a dream of uncertainty, that dream has the power to set a candidate aside instantly. "Jonas was identified as a possible Receiver many years ago. We have observed him meticulously. There were no dreams of uncertainty. "He has shown all of the qualities that a Receiver must have." With her hand still firmly on his shoulder, the Chief Elder listed the qualities. "Intelligence," she said. "We are all aware that Jonas has been a top student throughout his school days. "Integrity," she said next. "Jonas has, like all of us, committed minor transgressions." She smiled at him. "We expect that. We hoped, also, that he would present himself promptly for chastisement, and he has always done so. "Courage," she went on. "Only one of us here today has ever undergone the rigorous training required of a Receiver. He, of course, is the most important member of the Committee: the current Receiver. It was he who reminded us, again and again, of the courage required. "Jonas," she said, turning to him, but speaking in a voice that the entire community could hear, "the training required of you involves pain. Physical pain." He felt fear flutter within him. "You have never experienced that. Yes, you have scraped your knees in falls from your bicycle. Yes, you crushed your finger in a door last year." Jonas nodded, agreeing, as he recalled the incident, and its accompanying misery. "But you will be faced, now," she explained gently, "with pain of a magnitude that none of us here can comprehend because it is beyond our experience. The Receiver himself was not able to describe it, only to remind us that you would be faced with it, that you would need immense courage. We cannot prepare you for that. "But we feel certain that you are brave," she said to him. He did not feel brave at all. Not now. "The fourth essential attribute," the Chief Elder said, "is wisdom. Jonas has not yet acquired that. The acquisition of wisdom will come through his training. "We are convinced that Jonas has the ability to acquire wisdom. That is what we looked for. "Finally, The Receiver must have one more quality, and it is one which I can only name, but not describe. I do not understand it. You members of the community will not understand it, either. Perhaps Jonas will, because the current Receiver has told us that Jonas already has this quality. He calls it the Capacity to See Beyond." The Chief Elder looked at Jonas with a question in her eyes. The audience watched him, too. They were silent. For a moment he froze, consumed with despair. He didn't have it, the whatever-she-had-said. He didn't know what it was. Now was the moment when he would have to confess, to say, "No, I don't. I can't," and throw himself on their mercy, ask their forgiveness, to explain that he had been wrongly chosen, that he was not the right one at all. But when he looked out across the crowd, the sea of faces, the thing happened again. The thing that had happened with the apple. They changed. He blinked, and it was gone. His shoulders straightened slightly. Briefly he felt a tiny sliver of sureness for the first time. She was still watching him. They all were. "I think it's true," he told the Chief Elder and the community. "I don't understand it yet. I don't know what it is. But sometimes I see something. And maybe it's beyond." She took her arm from his shoulders. "Jonas," she said, speaking not to him alone but to the entire community of which he was a part, "you will be trained to be our next Receiver of Memory. We thank you for your childhood." Then she turned and left the stage, left him there alone, standing and facing the crowd, which began spontaneously the collective murmur of his name. "Jonas." It was a whisper at first: hushed, barely audible. "Jonas. Jonas." Then louder, faster. "JONAS. JONAS. JONAS." With the chant, Jonas knew, the community was accepting him and his new role, giving him life, the way they had given it to the new child Caleb. His heart swelled with gratitude and pride. But at the same time he was filled with fear. He did not know what his selection meant. He did not know what he was to become. Or what would become of him. 观众席里流荡着一股不安的气氛，人们对最后一项指派工作报以掌声，但是掌声稀稀落落的，不像先前那样热烈、整齐……大家困惑地窃窃私语。 乔纳思机械地、无意识地拍着手，原本期待、兴奋、骄傲和为朋友感到无比快乐的情绪，早已消失无踪；现在他只感到羞辱和恐惧。 首席长老等到不安的掌声停歇后，才又开口说话。 “我知道，”她用充满活力又十分优雅的声音说，“大家都很担心，以为我可能弄错了。” 她笑了。大家听见她这句亲切的声明，马上从不安的情绪中解脱出来，呼吸顿时舒畅了许多，现场一片安静。 乔纳思抬起头。 “让大家忧虑不安，”她说，“我郑重向整个社区道歉。” 她的声音在观众席中回荡。 “我们接受你的道歉。”大家异口同声地回答。 “乔纳思，”她低头看着他，“我要特别向你致歉，很抱歉让你坐立不安。” “我接受你的道歉。”乔纳思的声音微微颤抖。 “现在请你到台上来。” 今天稍早，他在家里换衣服的时候，还练习了一下该怎样满怀自信地上台，现在那些全抛到九霄云外去了。他光是站起来，往前走，爬楼梯，走过平台站到首席长老身旁去,都觉得举步维艰。 她把手放在他紧张的肩膀上，要他放松。 “乔纳思没有分派到工作。”她对所有的人说。乔纳思心里一沉。 她继续说下去：“乔纳思被选上了。” 他眨了一下眼睛，那是什么意思？他可以感觉到观众的内心也同时升起了这个疑问。 她用坚定、命令式的语气说：“乔纳思被选上担任我们下一位记忆传承人。” 接着他听到大家一一每位在座的居民——因为震惊而猛吸一口气，每个人的脸上都充满敬畏的神情。 不过，他还是不懂。 “这样的遴选是非常非常罕见的。”首席长老告诉大家，“我们社区里只有一位记忆传承人，由他负责训练接班人。” “现任的记忆传承人担任这个职务已经很久了。”她继续说，乔纳思随着她的目光看过去，长老委员会的成员都坐在一起，首席长老的目光落在正中央一位长老身上，奇怪的是，那位长老却又仿佛不属于这个组织。乔纳思以前从未看过这位长老，他蓄着胡子，眼珠子也是淡色的，他热切地注视着乔纳思。 “上次的遴选失败了。”首席长老神色黯淡地说，“那是十年前的事了，那时乔纳思还在学走路。那次的经历带给大家莫大的痛苦，我不想再多加叙述。” 乔纳思不知道她指的是什么，但是感受得到低沉的气氛——大家在不安地挪动着身子。 “这一次我们不再匆促行事，”她继续说，“我们经不起再一次的失败。” “有时候，”她用比较轻快的语调化解礼堂里沉重的气氛，“即使我们已经竭尽所能、密切观察，还是无法充分掌握某些指派工作。有时我们会担心，即使经过训练，有人还是无法达到预定的标准。毕竟，十一岁还只是个孩子。比如我们以为某人具有赤子之心和耐性，很适合担任养育师，没想到训练之后，才发现他只是愚蠢和懒散。所以在训练过程中我们会继续观察，做必要的修正。 但是记忆传承人受训时不受监督或修正，这在规则里头写得很清楚。他必须在隔离的状态下，由现任的记忆传承人全权主导，这是一项神圣荣耀的使命。” 隔离？乔纳思越听越不安。 “所以遴选必须非常谨慎，得全体委员毫无疑虑才行。 如果在遴选过程中有长老做了不确定的梦，就足以把候选人从名单中除去。” “很多年前，乔纳思就已被指认是记忆传承人的可能人选。我们密切观察他，也没有长老做过不确定的梦。” “他充分展现了担任记忆传承人必备的特质。” 她把手搭在乔纳思的肩膀上，开始说明是哪些特质。 “聪明。”她说，“我们都知道，乔纳思从入学以来，一直是班上顶尖的学生。” “正直。”她接着说，“乔纳思跟我们一样，都犯过一些小错，”她对他微微一笑，“我们希望他能勇于认错，迅速改过，他的确做到了。” “勇气。”她又说，“我们当中只有一个人接受过记忆传承人的严苛训练，他就是我们委员会中最重要的成员——现任的记忆传承人。他一次又一次地提醒我们，一定要具备勇气。” “乔纳思，”她转身面向他，不过所有的人都可以听到她的声音，“在训练过程中，你必须承受身体上的痛苦。” 恐惧轰然袭上乔纳思心头。 “那是你不曾经历过的痛苦。没错，你曾从自行车上摔下来，擦伤膝盖；没错，去年你的手指头也被门给压伤过。” 乔纳思同意地点点头，他回想起那些意外事件和伴随而来的痛苦。 “但是，很快你又得面对这样的经历，”她温和地解释，“在训练过程中，你会历经巨大的痛楚，那些痛楚超出我们的想象，因为我们没有这样的经历。记忆传承人自己也无法形容，只是一再提醒我们要让你知道：你需要很大的勇气去面对，很遗憾我们无法事先为你做些防范的准备。” “不过，我们确信你有这样的勇气。”她对他说。 他一点也不勇敢，至少现在就不是。 “第四个主要的特点，”首席长老说，“就是智能。乔纳思尚未学会，但通过训练，他将逐渐获得这项能力。 我们确信他具有获得智能的潜能，这也是我们正在积极发掘的。 最后，记忆传承人还必须具备另一项特点，关于这一点，我只知名称，但没办法加以描述。因为我不了解，社区中的成员也没人了解。也许乔纳思知道，因为现任的记忆传承人告诉我们，乔纳思已经具备这项他称为‘超眼界’的能力。” 首席长老用质疑的眼光看着乔纳思，观众的焦点也都集中在他身上。现场寂静无声。 在那一瞬间，他怔住了，内心无比沮丧。他也不知道啊，那到底是什么能力呢？他根本不清楚。现在他必须承认：“没有，我没有这项能力。”祈求大家的宽恕和原谅，还要解释清楚选上他是一大错误，他根本不是那块料。 但是当他往人群望过去，看着一张张的脸孔，幻象又产生了，就跟上次的苹果事件一模一样。 人群变了。 他眨眨眼，一切又恢复原样。他挺了挺肩膀，在那一刹那间，他第一次肯定自己具有这样的能力。 她还看着他，所有人的目光也集中在他身上。 “我想是吧！”他告诉首席长老和大家，“我自己也不了解，也不知道为什么会这样。但是，有时候我的确会看见一些不可思议的东西，也许这就是超眼界。” 她的手臂从他肩膀上放下来。 “乔纳思，”她不仅是对他，也是对他所属的整个社区说，“你将接受训练，成为我们下一任的记忆传承人。谢谢你奉献了你的童年。” 说着她转身离开讲台，留下他一个人站在台上，面对观众。大家开始自发地低吟他的名字。 “乔纳思，”一开始只像个耳语，短促可闻，“乔纳思，乔纳思……” 渐渐地声音越来越大，越来越快：“乔纳思、乔纳思、乔纳思……” 随着逐渐增强的唱颂声，乔纳思明白，大家就跟接纳新生儿凯尔博一样，已接纳了他和他的新角色。他的内心充满感激和骄傲。 但是，在这同时，他也感到无比惶恐。他不了解自己为什么会被选上？他对自己的未来毫无概念。 未来他会怎样呢？

Chapter 9 Now, for the first time in his twelve years of life, Jonas felt separate, different. He remembered what the Chief Elder had said: that his training would be alone and apart. But his training had not yet begun and already, upon leaving the Auditorium, he felt the apartness. Holding the folder she had given him, he made his way through the throng, looking for his family unit and for Asher. People moved aside for him. They watched him. He thought he could hear whispers. "Ash!" he called, spotting his friend near the rows of bicycles. "Ride back with me?" "Sure." Asher smiled, his usual smile, friendly and familiar. But Jonas felt a moment of hesitation from his friend, an uncertainty. "Congratulations," Asher said. "You too," Jonas replied. "It was really funny, when she told about the smacks. You got more applause than almost anybody else." The other new Twelves clustered nearby, placing their folders carefully into the carrying containers on the backs of the bikes. In each dwelling tonight they would be studying the instructions for the beginning of their training. Each night for years the children had memorized the required lessons for school, often yawning with boredom. Tonight they would all begin eagerly to memorize the rules for their adult Assignments. "Congratulations, Asher!" someone called. Then that hesitation again. "You too, Jonas!" Asher and Jonas responded with congratulations to their group mates. Jonas saw his parents watching him from the place where their own bicycles were waiting. Lily had already been strapped into her seat. He waved. They waved back, smiling, but he noticed that Lily was watching him solemnly, her thumb in her mouth. He rode directly to his dwelling, exchanging only small jokes and unimportant remarks with Asher. "See you in the morning, Recreation Director!" he called, dismounting by his door as Asher continued on. "Right! See you!" Asher called back. Once again, there was just a moment when things weren't quite the same, weren't quite as they had always been through the long friendship. Perhaps he had imagined it. Things couldn't change, with Asher. The evening meal was quieter than usual. Lily chattered about her plans for volunteer work; she would begin, she said, at the Nurturing Center, since she was already an expert at feeding Gabriel. "I know," she added quickly, when her father gave her a warning glance, "I won't mention his name. I know I'm not supposed to know his name. "I can't wait for tomorrow to come," she said happily. Jonas sighed uneasily. "I can," he muttered. "You've been greatly honored," his mother said. "Your father and I are very proud." "It's the most important job in the community," Father said. "But just the other night, you said that the job of making Assignments was the most important!" Mother nodded. "This is different. It's not a job, really. I never thought, never expected — " She paused. "There's only one Receiver." "But the Chief Elder said that they had made a selection before, and that it failed. What was she talking about?" Both of his parents hesitated. Finally his father described the previous selection. "It was very much as it was today, Jonas — the same suspense, as one Eleven had been passed over when the Assignments were given. Then the announcement, when they singled out the one — " Jonas interrupted. "What was his name?" His mother replied, "Her, not his. It was a female. But we are never to speak the name, or to use it again for a newchild.” Jonas was shocked. A name designated Not-to-Be-Spoken indicated the highest degree of disgrace. "What happened to her?" he asked nervously. But his parents looked blank. "We don't know," his father said uncomfortably. "We never saw her again." A silence fell over the room. They looked at each other. Finally his mother, rising from the table, said, "You've been greatly honored, Jonas. Greatly honored." Alone in his sleeping room prepared for bed, Jonas opened his folder at last. Some of the other Twelves, he had noticed, had been given folders thick with printed pages. He imagined Benjamin, the scientific male in his group, beginning to read pages of rules and instructions with relish. He pictured Fiona smiling her gentle smile as she bent over the lists of duties and methods that she would be required to learn in the days to come. But his own folder was startlingly close to empty. Inside there was only a single printed sheet. He read it twice. JONAS RECEIVER OF MEMORY 1. Go immediately at the end of school hours each day to the Annex entrance behind the end of the House of the Old and present yourself to the attendant. 2. Go immediately to your dwelling at the conclusion of Training Hours each day. 3. From this moment you are exempted from rules governing rudeness. You may ask any question of any citizen and you will receive answers. 4. Do not discuss your training with any other member of the community, including parents and Elders. 5. From this moment you are prohibited from dream-telling. 6. Except for illness or injury unrelated to your training, do not apply for any any medication. 7. You are not permitted to apply for release. 8. You may lie. Jonas was stunned. What would happen to his friendships? His mindless hours playing ball, or riding his bike along the river? Those had been happy and vital times for him. Were they to be completely taken from him, now? The simple logistic instructions — where to go, and when — were expected. Every Twelve had to be told, of course, where and how and when to report for training. But he was a little dismayed that his schedule left no time, apparently, for recreation. The exemption from rudeness startled him. Reading it again, however, he realized that it didn't compel him to be rude; it simply allowed him the option. He was quite certain he would never take advantage of it. He was so completely, so thoroughly accustomed to courtesy within the community that the thought of asking another citizen an intimate question, of calling someone's attention to an area of awkwardness, was unnerving. The prohibition of dream-telling, he thought, would not be a real problem. He dreamed so rarely that the dream-telling did not come easily to him anyway, and he was glad to be excused from it. He wondered briefly, though, how to deal with it at the morning meal. What if he did dream — should he simply tell his family unit, as he did so often, anyway, that he hadn't? That would be a lie. Still, the final rule said...well, he wasn't quite ready to think about the final rule on the page. The restriction of medication unnerved him. Medication was always available to citizens, even to children, through their parents. When he had crushed his finger in the door, he had quickly, gasping into the speaker, notified his mother; she had hastily requisitioned relief-of-pain medication which had promptly been delivered to his dwelling. Almost instantly the excruciating pain in his hand had diminished to the throb which was, now, all he could recall of the experience. Re-reading rule number 6, he realized that a crushed finger fell into the category of "unrelated to training." So if it ever happened again — and he was quite certain it wouldn't; he had been very careful near heavy doors since the accident! — he could still receive medication. The pill he took now, each morning, was also unrelated to training. So he would continue to receive the pill. But he remembered uneasily what the Chief Elder had said about the pain that would come with his training. She had called it indescribable. Jonas swallowed hard, trying without success to imagine what such pain might be like, with no medication at all. But it was beyond his comprehension. He felt no reaction to rule number 7 at all. It had never occurred to him that under any circumstances, ever, he might apply for release. Finally he steeled himself to read the final rule again. He had been trained since earliest childhood, since his earliest learning of language, never to lie. It was an integral part of the learning of precise speech. Once, when he had been a Four, he had said, just prior to the midday meal at school, "I'm starving." Immediately he had been taken aside for a brief private lesson in language precision. He was not starving, it was pointed out. He was hungry. No one in the community was starving, had ever been starving, would ever be starving. To say "starving" was to speak a lie. An unintentional lie, of course. But the reason for precision of language was to ensure that unintentional lies were never uttered. Did he understand that? they asked him. And he had. He had never, within his memory, been tempted to lie. Asher did not lie. Lily did not lie. His parents did not lie. No one did. Unless...Now Jonas had a thought that he had never had before. This new thought was frightening. What if others — adults — had, upon becoming Twelves, received in their instructions the same terrifying sentence? What if they had all been instructed: You may lie? His mind reeled. Now, empowered to ask questions of utmost rudeness — and promised answers — he could, conceivably (though it was almost unimaginable), ask someone, some adult, his father perhaps: "Do you lie?" But he would have no way of knowing if the answer he received were true. 在他十二年的成长岁月中，乔纳思首次体悟到什么叫做隔离和与众不同。他记得首席长老说过：他的训练是在隔离的状况下，单独进行的。 虽然训练尚未展开，但是在离开大礼堂时，他已经领略到被分隔开来的滋味。他握着资料夹，穿过人群，寻找家人和亚瑟。大家纷纷让路给他，注视着他，并低声耳语。 “亚瑟！”他在停车场看见朋友，赶紧大叫，“我们一起骑回家吗？” “当然啦！”亚瑟的笑容一如往昔，亲切又熟悉，但乔纳思隐隐觉得亚瑟好像迟疑了一下。 “恭喜啦！”亚瑟说。 “我才要恭喜你呢！”乔纳思回答，“当她提起‘打打’这件往事时，真是有趣儿，你获得的掌声比谁都多。” 刚晋升为十二岁的孩子这时也聚集过来，小心翼翼地把资料夹放入自行车后的提篮里，准备回家后再拿出来研读。过去这几年，孩子们晚上都得背诵学校功课，总是一边背，一边无聊地打哈欠。今晚可就不同了，他们是用期待的心情来背诵未来的工作规则。 “恭喜你，亚瑟！”有人大叫，同样又迟疑了一下才说,“也恭喜你，乔纳思！” 乔纳思和亚瑟也礼貌地恭贺对方。乔纳思看见爸爸和妈妈在自行车旁，远远地望着他。莉莉已经坐上后座，系好安全带了。 他挥挥手，他们也笑着挥挥手。他注意到莉莉表情很严肃，大拇指含在嘴里。 在回家的路上，他跟亚瑟的交流只是几个小笑话和一些无关紧要的话。 他在家门口下车，对亚瑟大叫：“明天早上见，娱乐中心主任助理！” 亚瑟继续往前骑：“好的，再见！” 亚瑟大声响应的瞬间，他再一次感觉到他们长期建立的友谊，似乎有些走调。也许是他多虑了，跟亚瑟在一起，不可能有什么改变的。 那天的晚餐静得出奇，只有莉莉叽叽喳喳，提出一大堆有关未来义工生涯的规划。她说她要先到育婴中心服务，因为她已经是喂加波吃饭的专家啦。 “我知道，”当爸爸对她投来警告的眼光时，她立刻补充说，“我不会提他名字的，我会假装自己不知道。我等不及了，好希望明天赶快来呢！”她快乐地说。 乔纳思不安地叹了一口气：“我可以等！”他喃喃自语。 “大家都很尊敬你的工作，”妈妈说，“爸爸和我为你感到骄傲。” “那是我们社区最重要的工作。”爸爸说。 “但是几天前，你说指派的工作是最重要的工作！” 妈妈点点头：“这不一样。这不是工作，真的。我想都没想过，也没想到……”妈妈停顿了一下，“因为向来只有一个记忆传承人。” “但是，首席长老说十年前做过一次遴选，结果失败了。 她指的是什么？” 爸爸和妈妈迟疑了半晌，最后爸爸叙说了上一次的遴选结果：“上次的情况跟今天很像——同样充满悬疑，乔纳思。 当所有的十一岁孩子都获得指派的工作后，他们才宣布那位被选中的人……” 乔纳思插嘴问：“他叫什么名字？” 妈妈回答，“是一个女生，不是男生。但是我们不能再提她的名字，也不能再用这个名字为新生儿命名。” 乔纳思很震惊。如果有哪个名字“再也不能提起”，那可是奇耻大辱啊。 “她怎么了？”他紧张地问。 爸爸妈妈面有难色。“我们不清楚，”爸爸很不自在地说，“我们再也没见过她。” 屋子里静悄悄的，他们只是默默地彼此望着。最后妈妈站了起来，说：“你获得了最尊贵的荣耀，乔纳思，最尊贵的荣耀。” 乔纳思独自在卧室里，铺好床，打开了自己的资料夹。 他注意到有些同学的资料夹好大一沓，上头印满了字。他猜想班上那位科学家——本杰明，一定是轻松地读着一页又一页的规则和说明。他也想象得到，费欧娜一定是带着微笑，看着单子上所列的未来该学的方法和该尽的义务。 但是他的资料夹只有薄薄的一张，他读了两遍： 乔纳思 记忆传承人 一、每天下课后，直接到养老院后面的安尼斯入口处报到。 二、每天训练结束后，立刻回家。 三、从现在开始可不受规则约束，有权向任何一位市民发问，并保证获得答案。 四、禁止谈论训练内容，包括双亲和长老会在内。 五、从现在开始，不再跟别人分享梦境。 六、除非疾病或伤势与训练无关，否则禁止申请任何药物。 七、不得申请解放。 八、可以说谎。 乔纳思愣住了。他跟朋友的友谊怎么维持？他那些不花脑筋的球类游戏呢？沿着河岸骑自行车散心呢？对他来说，那是一段既快乐又重要的时光。他们为什么要剥夺呢？这些简单、合乎逻辑的指示，他可以理解，因为每个十二岁的孩子都一定会被告知：到哪里、如何去以及何时接受训练。但是他还是有一点失望，很明显的，在他的课表里，完全没有任何休闲时间。 可以不受规则约束这条也令他相当吃惊。不过，再读一次后，他知道并不是强迫他违规，只是允许他有更大的选择权。他很确定，他永远也不会利用这条来为所欲为。他早已习惯遵循社区的规则，一想到要探人隐私，他就浑身不自在。 至于不再分享梦境这条，倒不成问题。他很少做梦，分享梦境对他来说本来就不容易，他很高兴可以免除这项义务。只是以后早餐时该怎么办呢？如果他做梦了，是否跟过去一样，只要告诉家人他没做梦就好？这就是说谎了。还有，最后一条规则说……哎，这最后一条规则他还没准备好去理它呢。 对于药物的限制，他感到很为难。居民用药一向非常便利，就连孩子都可通过双亲拿到。上次他的手指头被门压伤，他赶紧忍痛通过广播通知妈妈。她一要求止痛药，药物马上送到。几乎是在同一时间，他手上的剧痛立即消除，只剩轻微的颤动，现在只能靠回忆才能唤起上次的体验。 再读一次第六条规则，他了解压伤手指可归类为“跟训练无关”的伤势。虽然打从那次意外后，他就对厚重的大门特别留意，也很确定不会再旧事重演。可是如果真的再度发生，他还是可以申请药物治疗。 现在每天早上所吃的药丸，也跟训练无关，所以他还是继续吃。 可是一想到首席长老说训练过程必须承受很大的痛楚，他就打从心里不安。她还说那是难以形容的痛楚。 乔纳思用力吞了一下口水，实在很难想象那会是怎样的痛楚，而且还不能服药。这实在超出他的理解。 他对第七条规则毫无异议，因为他从未想过要申请解放。 他强迫自己再读一次最后一条规则。打从启蒙开始接受教育，打从开始学习使用语言，他就没说过谎。这是学习正确用语不可或缺的环节。他四岁时，有一次在学校午餐前说了一句：“我饿死了。” 结果马上被带到旁边，上了一堂精确使用语言的课程。 在课堂上他学懂了他不是“饿死了”，而是“肚子很饿”。在社区里没人会饿死。过去也从来没人饿死，未来更不可能有人会饿死。说“饿死了”，就等于是在说谎。当然，这是一个不经意地说谎。要大家精确地使用语言，就是希望大家不会不经意地说谎。他了解这一点吗？他们问他。他果然了解。 在他的记忆里，他再也不敢说谎。亚瑟不会说谎，莉莉不会说谎，爸爸妈妈不会说谎，没有人会说谎，除非…… 一个念头突然浮现乔纳思的脑海里，连他自己都吓了一大跳：是否其他人——大人——在晋升为十二岁时，都收到同样可怕的指令呢？ 是否他们都被指示：可以说谎。 他的内心受到很大的冲击。现在，他有权向任何人提问——而且一定会有答案——就用想象的吧（虽然还是很难想象），他可以问某个大人，也许就问爸爸：“你说谎吗？” 不过，他也无从知道他所获得的答案是不是真的。

Chapter 10 "I go in here, Jonas," Fiona told him when they reached the front door of the House of the Old after parking their bicycles in the designated area. "I don't know why I'm nervous," she confessed. "I've been here so often before." She turned her folder over in her hands. "Well, everything's different now," Jonas reminded her. "Even the nameplates on our bikes," Fiona laughed. During the night the nameplate of each new Twelve had been removed by the Maintenance Crew and replaced with the style that indicated citizen-in-training. "I don't want to be late," she said hastily, and started up the steps. "If we finish at the same time, I'll ride home with you." Jonas nodded, waved to her, and headed around the building toward the Annex, a small wing attached to the back. He certainly didn't want to be late for his first day of training, either. The Annex was very ordinary, its door unremarkable. He reached for the heavy handle, then noticed a buzzer on the wall. So he buzzed instead. "Yes?" The voice came through a small speaker above the buzzer. "It's, uh, Jonas. I'm the new — I mean — " "Come in." A click indicated that the door had been unlatched. The lobby was very small and contained only a desk at which a female Attendant sat working on some papers. She looked up when he entered; then, to his surprise, she stood. It was a small thing, the standing; but no one had ever stood automatically to acknowledge Jonas's presence before. "Welcome, Receiver of Memory," she said respectfully. "Oh, please," he replied uncomfortably. "Call me Jonas." She smiled, pushed a button, and he heard a click that unlocked the door to her left. "You may go right on in," she told him. Then she seemed to notice his discomfort and to realize its origin. No doors in the community were locked, ever. None that Jonas knew of, anyway. "The locks are simply to insure The Receiver's privacy because he needs concentration," she explained. "It would be difficult if citizens wandered in, looking for the Department of Bicycle Repair, or something." Jonas laughed, relaxing a little. The woman seemed very friendly, and it was true — in fact it was a joke throughout the community — that the Department of Bicycle Repair, an unimportant little office, was relocated so often that no one ever knew where it was. "There is nothing dangerous here," she told him. "But," she added, glancing at the wall clock, "he doesn't like to be kept waiting." Jonas hurried through the door and found himself in a comfortably furnished living area. It was not unlike his own family unit's dwelling. Furniture was standard throughout the community: practical, sturdy, the function of each piece clearly defined. A bed for sleeping. A table for eating. A desk for studying. All of those things were in this spacious room, though each was slightly different from those in his own dwelling. The fabrics on the upholstered chairs and sofa were slightly thicker and more luxurious; the table legs were not straight like those at home, but slender and curved, with a small carved decoration at the foot. The bed, in an alcove at the far end of the room, was draped with a splendid cloth embroidered over its entire surface with intricate designs. But the most conspicuous difference was the books. In his own dwelling, there were the necessary reference volumes that each household contained: a dictionary, and the thick community volume which contained descriptions of every office, factory, building, and committee. And the Book of Rules, of course. The books in his own dwelling were the only books that Jonas had ever seen. He had never known that other books existed. But this room's walls were completely covered by bookcases, filled, which reached to the ceiling. There must have been hundreds — perhaps thousands — of books, their titles embossed in shiny letters. Jonas stared at them. He couldn't imagine what the thousands of pages contained. Could there be rules beyond the rules that governed the community? Could there be more descriptions of offices and factories and committees? He had only a second to look around because he was aware that the man sitting in a chair beside the table was watching him. Hastily he moved forward, stood before the man, bowed slightly, and said, "I'm Jonas." "I know. Welcome, Receiver of Memory." Jonas recognized the man. He was the Elder who had seemed separate from the others at the Ceremony, though he was dressed in the same special clothing that only Elders wore. Jonas looked self-consciously into the pale eyes that mirrored his own. "Sir, I apologize for my lack of understanding..." He waited, but the man did not give the standard accepting-of-apology response. After a moment, Jonas went on, "But I thought — I mean I think," he corrected, reminding himself that if precision of language were ever to be important, it was certainly important now, in the presence of this man, "that you are the Receiver of Memory. I'm only, well, I was only assigned, I mean selected, yesterday. I'm not anything at all. Not yet." The man looked at him thoughtfully, silently. It was a look that combined interest, curiosity, concern, and perhaps a little sympathy as well. Finally he spoke. "Beginning today, this moment, at least to me, you are the Receiver. "I have been the Receiver for a long time. A very, very long time. You can see that, can't you?" Jonas nodded. The man was wrinkled, and his eyes, though piercing in their unusual lightness, seemed tired. The flesh around them was darkened into shadowed circles. "I can see that you are very old," Jonas responded with respect. The Old were always given the highest respect. The man smiled. He touched the sagging flesh on his own face with amusement. "I am not, actually, as old as I look," he told Jonas. "This job has aged me. I know I look as if I should be scheduled for release very soon. But actually I have a good deal of time left. "I was pleased, though, when you were selected. It took them a long time. The failure of the previous selection was ten years ago, and my energy is starting to diminish. I need what strength I have remaining for your training. We have hard and painful work to do, you and I. "Please sit down," he said, and gestured toward the nearby chair. Jonas lowered himself onto the soft cushioned seat. The man closed his eyes and continued speaking. "When I became a Twelve, I was selected, as you were. I was frightened, as I'm sure you are." He opened his eyes for a moment and peered at Jonas, who nodded. The eyes closed again. "I came to this very room to begin my training. It was such a long time ago. "The previous Receiver seemed just as old to me as I do to you. He was just as tired as I am today." He sat forward suddenly, opened his eyes, and said, "You may ask questions. I have so little experience in describing this process. It is forbidden to talk of it." "I know, sir. I have read the instructions," Jonas said. "So I may neglect to make things as clear as I should." The man chuckled. "My job is important and has enormous honor. But that does not mean I am perfect, and when I tried before to train a successor, I failed. Please ask any questions that will help you." In his mind, Jonas had questions. A thousand. A million questions. As many questions as there were books lining the walls. But he did not ask one, not yet. The man sighed, seeming to put his thoughts in order. Then he spoke again. "Simply stated," he said, "although it's not really simple at all, my job is to transmit to you all the memories I have within me. Memories of the past." "Sir," Jonas said tentatively, "I would be very interested to hear the story of your life, and to listen to your memories. "I apologize for interrupting," he added quickly. The man waved his hand impatiently. "No apologies in this room. We haven't time." "Well," Jonas went on, uncomfortably aware that he might be interrupting again, "I am really interested, I don't mean that I'm not. But I don't exactly understand why it's so important. I could do some adult job in the community, and in my recreation time I could come and listen to the stories from your childhood. I'd like that. Actually," he added, "I've done that already, in the House of the Old. The Old like to tell about their childhoods, and it's always fun to listen." The man shook his head. "No, no," he said. "I'm not being clear. It's not my past, not my childhood that I must transmit to you." He leaned back, resting his head against the back of the upholstered chair. "It's the memories of the whole world," he said with a sigh. "Before you, before me, before the previous Receiver, and generations before him." Jonas frowned. "The whole world?" he asked. "I don't understand. Do you mean not just us? Not just the community? Do you mean Elsewhere, too?" He tried, in his mind, to grasp the concept. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't understand exactly. Maybe I'm not smart enough. I don't know what you mean when you say 'the whole world' or 'generations before him." I thought there was only us. I thought there was only now." "There's much more. There's all that goes beyond — all that is Elsewhere — and all that goes back, and back, and back. I received all of those, when I was selected. And here in this room, all alone, I re-experience them again and again. It is how wisdom comes. And how we shape our future." He rested for a moment, breathing deeply. "I am so weighted with them," he said. Jonas felt a terrible concern for the man, suddenly. "It's as if..." The man paused, seeming to search his mind for the right words of description. "It's like going downhill through deep snow on a sled," he said, finally. "At first it's exhilarating: the speed; the sharp, clear air; but then the snow accumulates, builds up on the runners, and you slow, you have to push hard to keep going, and — " He shook his head suddenly, and peered at Jonas. "That meant nothing to you, did it?" he asked. Jonas was confused. "I didn't understand it, sir." "Of course you didn't. You don't know what snow is, do you?" Jonas shook his head. "Or a sled? Runners?" "No, sir," Jonas said. "Downhill? The term means nothing to you?" "Nothing, sir." "Well, it's a place to start. I'd been wondering how to begin. Move to the bed, and lie face down. Remove your tunic first." Jonas did so, a little apprehensively. Beneath his bare chest, he felt the soft folds of the magnificent cloth that covered the bed. He watched as the man rose and moved first to the wall where the speaker was. It was the same sort of speaker that occupied a place in every dwelling, but one thing about it was different. This one had a switch, which the man deftly snapped to the end that said OFF. Jonas almost gasped aloud. To have the power to turn the speaker off? It was an astonishing thing. Then the man moved with surprising quickness to the corner where the bed was. He sat on a chair beside Jonas, who was motionless, waiting for what would happen next. "Close your eyes. Relax. This will not be painful." Jonas remembered that he was allowed, that he had even been encouraged, to ask questions. "What are you going to do, sir?" he asked, hoping that his voice didn't betray his nervousness. "I am going to transmit the memory of snow," the old man said, and placed his hands on Jonas's bare back. “我从这里进去，乔纳思。”他们把自行车停在画好停车位的区域，走到养老院门口时，费欧娜说。 “不知道为什么，我竟然觉得紧张。”她说，“我以前常到这里啊。”她把玩着手上的资料夹。 “嗯，现在不一样了。”乔纳思提醒她。 “连自行车上的名牌都不一样。”费欧娜笑了起来。维护人员趁着半夜，帮每位十二岁的孩子换上新名牌，上头标示着：受训中的居民。 “我不想迟到。”她一边迈上台阶，一边迟疑地说，“如果我们同时结束，我就和你一起骑车回家。” 乔纳思点点头，挥挥手，便绕过建筑物，朝安尼斯走去，那是一栋附在建筑物背后的小侧楼。他也跟她一样，不想在受训的第一天就迟到。 安尼斯的外观毫不起眼，门口也很寻常。他握住厚重的门把手，这才注意到墙上有个蜂音器，于是他改为按铃。 “什么事？”声音从蜂音器上方小小的扩音器传出来。 “我是，嗯，乔纳思。我是新的……我是说……” “请进！”“咔嚓”一声，门开了。 接待室很小，只有一张桌子，一位女接待员正忙着处理文件，抬头看到他进来，竟然站了起来。这个举动着实令他大吃一惊。以前从没有人因为他的出现而主动起立致意。 “欢迎，记忆传承人。”她很恭敬地说。 “哦，”他很不自在地回答，“叫我乔纳思就好了。” 她微微一笑，按下一个钮，他听见她左边的门“咔嚓” 一声开了。“您可以进去了。”她告诉他。 她好像注意到他的不自在，也了解他不自在的原因。因为社区里的门都不上锁；至少乔纳思知道的门就都不上锁。 “上锁是为了维护记忆传承人的隐私，因为他需要全神贯注。”她解释着，“以防万一有居民闲逛到这边来找自行车修理部之类的。” 乔纳思笑了笑，稍微松了一口气。这位女士看起来很友善，事实上也的确很友善。社区里流传这样的笑话：自行车维修部门是个不太重要的小单位，经常搬家，大家常常搞不清楚它到底在哪里。 “这里一点也不危险。”她告诉他。 “但是，”她对墙上的时钟瞥了一眼，“它不喜欢等人喔。” 乔纳思赶紧打开门，发现自己来到一间装潢典雅、舒适的起居室，就跟他自己家里的形式很像。社区里每户人家的家具都是规格化的：实用、结实，每个物件都有特定的功能——张睡觉的床，一张吃饭用的桌子，一张念书用的书桌。 在这间宽敞的房间里，该有的家具样样不缺，只不过每件家具都跟他家里的略有不同：椅子和沙发的坐垫比较厚也比较豪华；桌脚不像家里的那么直挺挺的，而是较为纤细、略有弧度，并且雕饰了小花纹：床铺位于房间另一端的凹室，上头罩着一条华丽的床单，上面绣满精细的图案。 最显著的不同是书。在他家里，只有家家必备的几套书： 一本字典，以及厚厚的社区说明手册，详列每间办公室、工厂、建筑物和委员会的介绍。当然，还有社区的法则大全。 家里那些书是乔纳思唯一看过的书，他从不知道还有其他的书。 这个房间的墙壁却完全被书架覆盖，从墙脚到天花板，满满的都是。这里一定有几百本、甚至几千本的书，每本书的书名都用闪亮的印刷字体装饰得光亮耀眼。 乔纳思注视着这些书，他想象不出内容会是什么？是超越管理社区的其他法则吗？是对办公室、工厂和委员会更多的描述吗？ 他只敢花一秒钟的时间张望，因为桌子旁边的椅子上，坐着一个人，正打量着他。 他迟疑地往前移动，站在这位先生前面，略微鞠个躬，然后说：“我是乔纳思。” “我知道，欢迎，记忆传承人。” 乔纳思认得他。在典礼中，他虽然也身着长老服饰，却与其他长老大不相同。 乔纳思怯生生地望着那双灰色眼珠中自己的影像。 “先生，很抱歉，我不太了解您的意思……” 他等着，但是老人并未说出标准响应语——我接受你的道歉。 过了一会儿，乔纳思继续说：“但是我认为……我是说我想，”他更正自己的用语，一边提醒自己：精准的语言很重要，在这位先生面前更要谨慎。“您才是记忆传承人，我只是，嗯，我刚被指定，我是说，昨天才被选上的。我还不是记忆传承人。” 老人若有所思地望着他，眼神中有感兴趣、好奇、关心、或许还带有一点同情的意味。 最后他终于说话了，“至少在我认为，从今天这一刻开始，你就是记忆传承人。我担任记忆传承人这份工作已经很久了，这是一段漫长的岁月，你也看得出来，不是吗？” 乔纳思点点头。老人满脸皱纹，眼睛虽然闪现犀利的光芒，却掩不住疲惫，眼周围镶着黑眼圈。 “我看得出来，您年纪很大了。”乔纳思尊敬地说。大家对长老总是推崇备至。 老人微微一笑，摸摸自己脸上松垮的肌肉：“事实上，我没有外表看起来那么老。”他告诉乔纳思，“这份工作让我加速老化。我知道我看起来好像很快就会被解放，但是事实上，我还有好长一段人生要走哩。 不过，当你被选上时，我非常高兴。他们花了很长时间来进行这一次遴选。距离上一次的遴选失败已经十年了，我的能量正逐渐耗弱，我必须保留气力来训练你。未来的工作很艰辛、痛苦，而且只有你跟我。” “请坐下。”他指了指身边。 乔纳思坐到柔软的加垫的座位上。 老人闭上眼睛，继续说：“当我十二岁时，跟你一样被分派了这一职务。当时我很害怕，我相信你现在也一样。”他张开眼睛，盯着乔纳思，乔纳思点点头。 那双眼睛再度闭上：“我来到这个房间，开始接受训练，那已经是好遥远以前的事了。我觉得当时的记忆传承人好老，就跟你现在对我的感觉一样，他也跟我现在一样疲惫不堪。” 他突然坐直了身子，又张开眼睛：“你可以随便发问。 因为平常禁止谈论，所以我不擅长描述这些过程。” “我了解，先生，我看过指导说明了。”乔纳思说。 “那我就不再详细叙述了。”老人低声轻笑，“我的工作很重要，地位崇高，但这并不代表我是完美的，要不然上次训练接班人就不会失败了。请尽量发问，好帮助你进人状态。” 乔纳思的内心有成千上万个疑问，就跟墙壁上的书籍一样多，但他一个也提不出来。 老人叹了一口气，好像要先整理一下思绪，接着才又开口： “训练过程很复杂，不过我先简单说好了，我的工作就是要把我所有的记忆都转移给你，所有过去的记忆。” “先生，”乔纳思迟疑地说，“我很乐意聆听您一生的故事和您的记忆。”赶紧又补充说：“很抱歉，我插嘴了。” 老人不耐烦地摇摇手，“在这里用不着说抱歉，我们没有时间了。” “是的，”乔纳思继续说，很不自在地发现自己又插嘴了，“我真的很感兴趣，我只是不明白这件事有这么重要吗？我可以在社区里工作，再利用休闲时间来拜访您，听您诉说您的童年啊。我很喜欢这样，事实上，我在养老院做义工时就这么做了，那些老人都很喜欢说自己的童年，听起来非常有趣。” 老人摇摇头：“不，不是这样。”他说，“我说得不够清楚。我要传输给你的不是我自己的过去，不是我的童年。” 他往后靠，将头枕在有软垫的椅背上：“我要给你的是整个世界的记忆。”他叹了一口气，“在你之前，在我之前，在上一任记忆传承人之前，在他好几代之前的所有记忆。” 乔纳思的眉头皱了起来：“整个世界？”他问，“我不懂，您是说这个世界上不是只有我们？不是只有这个社区？您是说还包括其他的地区？”他试着在内心捕捉这样的概念，“很抱歉，先生，我还是不明白。也许我不够聪明，您说的‘全世界’跟‘在他好几代之前’，是指什么？我以为这个世界只有我们，我以为只有现在。” “还有很多很多远远超出这个范围的其他地方，超出现在，再往前推、往前推、一直往前推更多的记忆。在我被选上之后，我接收了所有的记忆。在这个房间，我一个人一遍又一遍地重复经历那些过往事件，这就是智能的来源，也是我们塑造未来的依据。” 他停了停，深深地吸了一口气：“这担子好重。” 乔纳思不由得对老人产生了深切的同情。 “就好像……”老人沉吟了一下，好像正在寻找最恰当的字眼来描述，“就好像驾着雪橇在大雪中下坡一样，”最后他终于说：“起初因为速度加上冷峻清新的空气，让人觉得刺激兴奋，但是雪越下越大，不断堆积，覆盖在滑板上，慢慢的，你越来越难前进，而且……” 他突然摇摇头，瞧了乔纳思一眼：“你对这些毫无概念,对不对？” 乔纳思一脸困惑：“先生，我完全不懂。” “你当然不懂。你不知道什么是雪，对不对？” 乔纳思摇摇头。 “雪橇？滑板？” “不知道，先生。”乔纳思说。 “下坡？这些名词你都不知道？” “都不知道，先生。” “那么，就从这里开始好了。我还在想该从哪里开始比较恰当呢。到床上来，把上衣脱掉，脸朝下肌着。” 乔纳思不安地照做。他可以感觉到赤裸的胸膛紧贴着柔软、华丽的床单。老人站起来，走到墙边的扩音器旁。社区里的每户人家都装有这种扩音器，只不过这个房间的扩音器竟然多了一个“开关”，老人灵巧地一扳，啪的一声，开关就“关”上了。 乔纳思差点儿停止呼吸，老人竟然有“关掉”扩音器的权力！他这一惊非同小可。 接着老人飞快地走到床边，坐在乔纳思身旁的椅子上。 乔纳思一动也不动，等着即将发生的事。 “闭上眼睛，放松，不会痛的。” 乔纳思想起自己可以多发问：“先生，请问您要做什么？”他希望自己的声音没有泄露内心的紧张。 “我要将雪的记忆传送给你。”老人说完，就将双手放在乔纳思赤裸的背上。

好牛，楼主厉害！有资源要看看

Chapter 11 Jonas felt nothing unusual at first. He felt only the light touch of the old man's hands on his back. 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. 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. 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. The touch of the man's hands seemed to have disappeared. 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. 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. 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. His breath was visible. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. The old man, still beside the bed, was watching him. "How do you feel?" he asked. Jonas sat up and tried to answer honestly. "Surprised," he said, after a moment. 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." "Do you mean — you did say I could ask questions?" The man nodded, encouraging his question. "Do you mean that now you don't have the memory of it — of that ride on the sled — anymore?" "That's right. A little weight off this old body." "But it was such fun! And now you don't have it anymore! I took it from you!" 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." "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." 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. "Now," he said, turning businesslike, "lie back down. I want to — " Jonas did. He was eager for whatever experience would come next. But he had, suddenly, so many questions. "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?" 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." "But what happened to those things? Snow, and the rest of it?" "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. "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. Jonas frowned. "I wish we had those things, still. Just now and then." The old man smiled. "So do I," he said. "But that choice is not ours." "But sir," Jonas suggested, "since you have so much power — " 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. "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." Without being instructed, Jonas closed his eyes again. He felt the hands on his back again. He waited. 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. 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. Suddenly he perceived the word for it: sunshine. He perceived that it came from the sky. Then it ended. "Sunshine," he said aloud, opening his eyes. "Good. You did get the word. That makes my job easier. Not so much explaining." "And it came from the sky." "That's right," the old man said. "Just the way it used to." "Before Sameness. Before Climate Control," Jonas added. 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." 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. 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." "I'm brave. I really am." Jonas sat up a little straighter. 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. "Lie down once more. This will be the last today." 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. "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. He knew there was a word, but the pain kept him from grasping it. 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." "It was sunburn," the old man told him. "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." 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." 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." The old man nodded to him. He looked drained, and a little sad. "Sir?" Jonas said shyly. "Yes? Do you have a question?" "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." 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. "Call me The Giver," he told Jonas. 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。 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。 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。 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。 老人的触摸似乎不见了。 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。 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。 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。 他的呼吸清晰可见。 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。 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”。 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。 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。 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。 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。 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。 老人依然坐在床边打量他：“怎么样？”他问。 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。” 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。” “您的意思是……我可以问问题吗？” 老人点点头，鼓励他发问。 “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？” “没错，所以我这副臭皮囊稍微变轻些了。” “但是那段经历很有趣啊！现在您完全没有了，被我拿走了！” 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。” “您是说，我——我是指我们——还可以再来一次？” 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。” 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。” “现在，”他换了副严肃的表情，“再躺下来，我想要……” 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。 “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？” 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。” “为什么雪和其他东西通通不见了呢？” “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。” “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。 乔纳思惋惜地说：“真希望那些东西一直都在。” 老人微微一笑：“我也这么想，”他说，“但是我们无法选择。” “但是，先生，”乔纳思建议，“既然您拥有那么大的权力……” 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。 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。” 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。 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。 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。 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。 就在这时，感觉消失了。 “阳光！”他大喊，一边张开眼睛。 “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。” “而且它来自天上。” “没错，”老人说：“以前就是这样。” “在同化之前，在气候控制之前。”乔纳思补充。 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。” 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。 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。” “我很勇敢，真的很勇敢。”乔纳思坐得更加挺直。 老人定定地望了他好一会儿，微笑着说：“我看得出来。 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。” “再躺下来，这是今天最后一次了。” 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。 “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。 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。 突然，痛苦结束了。他张开眼睛，不舒服地蜷缩着身子。 “好痛。”他告诉老人，“我掌握不到那个词。” “这就是晒伤。”老人告诉他。 “好痛！”乔纳思说，“但是我很高兴您把它转移给我。 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。” 老人没有回答，沉默地坐了一秒钟才说：“起来吧，你该回家了。” 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。” 老人点点头，看起来很疲惫，还有一点感伤。 “先生？”乔纳思怯生生的说。 “什么事？你还有问题吗？” “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。” 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。 “就叫我传授人好了。”

Chapter 12 "You slept soundly, Jonas?" his mother asked at the morning meal. "No dreams?" Jonas simply smiled and nodded, not ready to lie, not willing to tell the truth. "I slept very soundly," he said. "I wish this one would," his father said, leaning down from his chair to touch Gabriel's waving fist. The basket was on the floor beside him; in its corner, beside Gabriel's head, the stuffed hippo sat staring with its blank eyes. "So do I," Mother said, rolling her eyes. "He's so fretful at night." Jonas had not heard the new child during the night because as always, he had slept soundly. But it was not true that he had no dreams. Again and again, as he slept, he had slid down that snow-covered hill. Always, in the dream, it seemed as if there were a destination: a something — he could not grasp what — that lay beyond the place where the thickness of snow brought the sled to a stop. He was left, upon awakening, with the feeling that he wanted, even somehow needed, to reach the something that waited in the distance. The feeling that it was good. That it was welcoming. That it was significant. But he did not know how to get there. He tried to shed the leftover dream, gathering his schoolwork and preparing for the day. School seemed a little different today. The classes were the same: language and communications; commerce and industry; science and technology; civil procedures and government. But during the breaks for recreation periods and the midday meal, the other new Twelves were abuzz with descriptions of their first day of training. All of them talked at once, interrupting each other, hastily making the required apology for interrupting, then forgetting again in the excitement of describing the new experiences. Jonas listened. He was very aware of his own admonition not to discuss his training. But it would have been impossible, anyway. There was no way to describe to his friends what he had experienced there in the Annex room. How could you describe a sled without describing a hill and snow; and how could you describe a hill and snow to someone who had never felt height or wind or that feathery, magical cold? Even trained for years as they all had been in precision of language, what words could you use which would give another the experience of sunshine? So it was easy for Jonas to be still and to listen. After school hours he rode again beside Fiona to the House of the Old. "I looked for you yesterday," she told him, "so we could ride home together. Your bike was still there, and I waited for a little while. But it was getting late, so I went on home." "I apologize for making you wait," Jonas said. "I accept your apology," she replied automatically. "I stayed a little longer than I expected," Jonas explained. She pedaled forward silently, and he knew that she expected him to tell her why. She expected him to describe his first day of training. But to ask would have fallen into the category of rudeness. "You've been doing so many volunteer hours with the Old," Jonas said, changing the subject. "There won't be much that you don't already know." "Oh, there's lots to learn," Fiona replied. "There's administrative work, and the dietary rules, and punishment for disobedience — did you know that they use a discipline wand on the Old, the same as for small children? And there's occupational therapy, and recreational activities, and medications, and — " They reached the building and braked their bikes. "I really think I'll like it better than school," Fiona confessed. "Me too," Jonas agreed, wheeling his bike into its place. She waited for a second, as if, again, she expected him to go on. Then she looked at her watch, waved, and hurried toward the entrance. Jonas stood for a moment beside his bike, startled. It had happened again: the thing that he thought of now as "seeing beyond." This time it had been Fiona who had undergone that fleeting indescribable change. As he looked up and toward her going through the door, it happened; she changed. Actually, Jonas thought, trying to recreate it in his mind, it wasn't Fiona in her entirety. It seemed to be just her hair. And just for that flickering instant. He ran through it in his mind. It was clearly beginning to happen more often. First, the apple a few weeks before. The next time had been the faces in the audience at the Auditorium, just two days ago. Now, today, Fiona's hair. Frowning, Jonas walked toward the Annex. I will ask the Giver, he decided. The old man looked up, smiling, when Jonas entered the room. He was already seated beside the bed, and he seemed more energetic today, slightly renewed, and glad to see Jonas. "Welcome," he said. "We must get started. You're one minute late." "I apologi — " Jonas began, and then stopped, flustered, remembering there were to be no apologies. He removed his tunic and went to the bed. "I'm one minute late because something happened," he explained. "And I'd like to ask you about it, if you don't mind." "You may ask me anything." Jonas tried to sort it out in his mind so that he could explain it clearly. "I think it's what you call seeing-beyond," he said. The Giver nodded. "Describe it," he said. Jonas told him about the experience with the apple. Then the moment on the stage, when he had looked out and seen the same phenomenon in the faces of the crowd. "Then today, just now, outside, it happened with my friend Fiona. She herself didn't change, exactly. But something about her changed for a second. Her hair looked different; but not in its shape, not in its length. I can't quite — " Jonas paused, frustrated by his inability to grasp and describe exactly what had occurred. Finally he simply said, "It changed. I don't know how, or why. "That's why I was one minute late," he concluded, and looked questioningly at The Giver. To his surprise, the old man asked him a question which seemed unrelated to the seeing-beyond. "When I gave you the memory yesterday, the first one, the ride on the sled, did you look around?" Jonas nodded. "Yes," he said, "but the stuff — I mean the snow — in the air made it hard to see anything." "Did you look at the sled?" Jonas thought back. "No. I only felt it under me. I dreamed of it last night, too. But I don't remember seeing the sled in my dream, either. Just feeling it." The Giver seemed to be thinking. "When I was observing you, before the selection, I perceived that you probably had the capacity, and what you describe confirms that. It happened somewhat differently to me," The Giver told him. "When I was just your age — about to become the new Receiver — I began to experience it, though it took a different form. With me it was...well, I won't describe that now; you wouldn't understand it yet. "But I think I can guess how it's happening with you. Let me just make a little test, to confirm my guess. Lie down." Jonas lay on the bed again with his hands at his sides. He felt comfortable here now. He closed his eyes and waited for the familiar feel of The Giver's hands on his back. But it didn't come. Instead, The Giver instructed him, "Call back the memory of the ride on the sled. Just the beginning of it, where you're at the top of the hill, before the slide starts. And this time, look down at the sled." Jonas was puzzled. He opened his eyes. "Excuse me," he asked politely, "but don't you have to give me the memory?" "It's your memory, now. It's not mine to experience any longer. I gave it away." "But how can I call it back?" "You can remember last year, or the year that you were a Seven, or a Five, can't you?" "Of course." "It's much the same. Everyone in the community has one-generation memories like those. But now you will be able to go back farther. Try. Just concentrate." Jonas closed his eyes again. He took a deep breath and sought the sled and the hill and the snow in his consciousness. There they were, with no effort. He was again sitting in that whirling world of snowflakes, atop the hill. Jonas grinned with delight, and blew his own steamy breath into view. Then, as he had been instructed, he looked down. He saw his own hands, furred again with snow, holding the rope. He saw his legs, and moved them aside for a glimpse of the sled beneath. Dumbfounded, he stared at it. This time it was not a fleeting impression. This time the sled had — and continued to have, as he blinked, and stared at it again — that same mysterious quality that the apple had had so briefly. And Fiona's hair. The sled did not change. It simply was — whatever the thing was. Jonas opened his eyes and was still on the bed. The Giver was watching him curiously. "Yes," Jonas said slowly. "I saw it, in the sled." "Let me try one more thing. Look over there, to the bookcase. Do you see the very top row of books, the ones behind the table, on the top shelf?" Jonas sought them with his eyes. He stared at them, and they changed. But the change was fleeting. It slipped away the next instant. "It happened," Jones said. "It happened to the books, but it went away again." "I'm right, then," The Giver said. "You're beginning to see the color red." "The what?" The Giver sighed. "How to explain this? Once, back in the time of the memories, everything had a shape and size, the way things still do, but they also had a quality called color. "There were a lot of colors, and one of them was called red. That's the one you are starting to see. Your friend Fiona has red hair — quite distinctive, actually; I've noticed it before. When you mentioned Fiona's hair, it was the clue that told me you were probably beginning to see the color red." "And the faces of people? The ones I saw at the Ceremony?" The Giver shook his head. "No, flesh isn't red. But it has red tones in it. There was a time, actually — you'll see this in the memories later — when flesh was many different colors. That was before we went to Sameness. Today flesh is all the same, and what you saw was the red tones. Probably when you saw the faces take on color it wasn't as deep or vibrant as the apple, or your friend's hair." The Giver chuckled, suddenly. "We've never completely mastered Sameness. I suppose the genetic scientists are still hard at work trying to work the kinks out. Hair like Fiona's must drive them crazy." Jonas listened, trying hard to comprehend. "And the sled?" he said. "It had that same thing: the color red. But it didn't change, Giver. It just was." "Because it's a memory from the time when color was." "It was so — oh, I wish language were more precise! The red was so beautiful!" The Giver nodded. "It is." "Do you see it all the time?" "I see all of them. All the colors." "Will I?" "Of course. When you receive the memories. You have the capacity to see beyond. You'll gain wisdom, then, along with colors. And lots more." Jonas wasn't interested, just then, in wisdom. It was the colors that fascinated him. "Why can't everyone see them? Why did colors disappear?" The Giver shrugged. "Our people made that choice, the choice to go to Sameness. Before my time, before the previous time, back and back and back. We relinquished color when we relinquished sunshine and did away with differences." He thought for a moment. "We gained control of many things. But we had to let go of others." "We shouldn't have!" Jonas said fiercely. The Giver looked startled at the certainty of Jonas's reaction. Then he smiled wryly. "You've come very quickly to that conclusion," he said. "It took me many years. Maybe your wisdom will come much more quickly than mine." He glanced at the wall clock. "Lie back down, now. We have so much to do." "Giver," Jonas asked as he arranged himself again on the bed, "how did it happen to you when you were becoming The Receiver? You said that the seeing-beyond happened to you, but not the same way." The hands came to his back. "Another day," The Giver said gently. "I'll tell you another day. Now we must work. And I've thought of a way to help you with the concept of color. "Close your eyes and be still, now. I'm going to give you a memory of a rainbow." “你睡得好熟，是不是，乔纳思？”第二天吃早餐的时候，妈妈问，“没有做梦吗？” 乔纳思微微一笑，点点头，他还没准备好该怎样说谎，又不想说出真相。“我睡得很熟。”他说。 “真希望他也可以。”爸爸坐在椅子上，弯下腰逗弄加波挥动的小拳头。婴儿篮就放在他脚边的地板上。加波头旁边的角落放着的填充河马，睁着空洞无神的眼睛看着这一幕。 “我也希望妈妈看了加波一眼，“他晚上好吵喔。” 乔纳思整晚都没有听到小宝宝的哭声，因为他真的睡得很沉。不过他说没做梦，却不是真的。 在梦中，他一次又一次地驾着雪橇滑过冰雪覆盖的山丘。在梦里，好像都有目的地，只不过他弄不清到底要去哪里，只知道雪橇被强烈的风雪挡在某处。 醒来后，他内心仍然充满渴望，希望到达远处，找到那个正在等待他的东西。那种感觉很美妙，很让人欢喜，回味无穷。 但是他不知道怎样抵达那个地方。 他努力摆脱残存的梦境，收拾好功课，准备上学。 学校今天看起来有点儿不一样。课程没变：语言与沟通、贸易与工业、科学技术、民事法则和管理。但在休息时间和午餐时，刚晋升为十二岁的孩子们，叽叽喳喳地谈论着自己第一天的受训情形。大家同时开口，抢着说话，再迟疑地为自己的插嘴道歉；接着在描绘新体验的兴奋中，又忘情地再度插嘴。 乔纳思只是聆听。他牢记着不能跟别人谈论他的训练内容的规则。反正也无从谈起，因为在安尼斯的经历根本无法描述。谈到雪橇，就不能不提到山丘和雪，但是对于从没有经历过高度、风或如羽毛般雪花的人，又从何体会山丘和雪呢？ 即使已经受过那么多年的精确语言训练,他也实在不知道要用什么字眼来形容阳光。 所以乔纳思的最佳选择就是安静、聆听。 下课后，他依然和费欧娜一起骑车到养老院。 “昨天本来想跟你一起回家的。”她告诉他，“你的自行车还在，我等了好一会儿，后来时间不早了，我就自己回家了。” “很抱歉让你久等。”乔纳思说。 “我接受你的道歉。”她公式化地回答。 “我多留了一会儿。”乔纳思解释。 她默默地蹬着自行车。他知道她正在等他告诉她原因，并告诉她第一天受训的情形。她不能主动发问，不然就显得莽撞无礼了。 “你在养老院当过那么久的义工，”乔纳思试着转移话题，“不懂的事应该不多了吧？” “哦，要学的还多着呢！”费欧娜回答，“有行政管理、饮食规则、违规处分……你知道吗？老年人也有戒尺呢，就跟幼儿一样。还有职业伤害治疗、娱乐活动、药剂学……” 目的地到了，他们停下自行车。 “比起学校，我更喜欢这儿。”费欧娜坦言道。 “我也是。”乔纳思附和，把自行车推进车位。 她停下来站立一会儿，好像是希望他再往下说。接着她看看表，挥挥手，朝入口处走去。 乔纳思在自行车旁站了一会儿，突然愣住了。“超眼界”的现象再度出现。这次是发生在费欧娜身上。刚才他看着她的背影，发现她发生了变化。乔纳思努力在心中重现刚才那一幕，发现费欧娜不是整个人，而是只有头发起变化，而且只一瞬间。 他快速想了一下，现在这种现象越来越常发生了。第一次是发生在几周前的一个苹果上；第二次是发生在大礼堂观众的脸上，这不过是两天前的事；然后就是今天，现在，费欧娜的头发上。 乔纳思皱皱眉头，走向安尼斯。zei8.com他决定去问传授人。 乔纳思一进门，老人就抬起头来，微微一笑。他已经坐在床边，看起来有活力多了，好像刚充过电。 “欢迎光临。”他说，“我们得开始了，你迟到一分钟。” “很抱歉……”乔纳思立即住口，一张脸涨得通红，他想起在这里是不用说抱歉的。 他脱掉上衣，走到床边：“因为发生了一件事，所以我迟到了。” 有什么问题你就问。 乔纳思先在心中想清楚，以便说个明白：“我想那就是您所谓的‘超眼界’。”他说。 传授人点点头：“你说说看。” 乔纳思向他报告苹果事件，以及看到观众的脸瞬间起变化的情形。 “然后就是今天，刚刚在外面，发生在我朋友费欧娜的身上。准确地说，她本人没有变化，但是她身上有样东西起了一秒钟的变化。她的头发看起来不一样，不过跟形状、长度无关，怎么说1……”乔纳思犹豫了半晌，觉得很沮丧，自己竟然形容不出到底发生了什么事。 最后，他只能说：“我不知道它是怎么发生的，又为什么会变化。这就是我迟到一分钟的原因。”说完，他一脸茫然地看着传授人。 出乎意料的，老人问他一个好像跟“超眼界”无关的问题：“昨天，当我将驾雪橇的记忆传送给你的时候，你有没有四处张望？” 乔纳思点点头，“有啊！但是因为半空中有飘落的雪花，所以不太容易看见其他东西。” “你有没有仔细瞧瞧雪橇？” 乔纳思回想了一下，“没有，我只知道它在我身体下面。 昨晚我也梦见了。不过，只感觉到它的存在，不记得是否看见了。” 传授人陷入沉思。 “遴选之前，我观察过你，察觉到你可能具有这项能力，而你的描述也证实了这一点。只不过，你的情况跟我不同。” 传授人告诉他：“当我像你这么大——即将成为新的记忆传承人时——我开始经历这些现象，不过形式跟你有点不同。 对我来说……算了，现在先不提，因为你还无法了解。 不过，我可以想象你所看见的变化。让我来做个小实验，证实我的猜测。躺下来吧！” 乔纳思再度趴在床上，双手放在身体两侧。现在他已经觉得很自在了。他闭上眼睛，等着传授人那双熟悉的手放到他背上。 但是，这回传授人改用语言引导他：“回想一下你坐在雪橇上的情形，就在开始，你坐在山丘顶端，准备滑行之前。 就是这个时刻，低头看看雪橇。” 乔纳思困惑地睁开眼睛：“对不起，”他很有礼貌地问，您不给我这段记忆吗? “现在它是你的记忆了，再也不属于我了。我已经把它传送出去了。” “那我怎样唤起这段记忆？” “你可以回想去年或者是你七岁、五岁的时候吧，对不对？” “当然可以。” “方法一样。社区里的每个人都有他自己这一代的记忆，但是现在你可以回到更久远的过去。试试看，集中精力。” 乔纳思重新闭上眼睛，并深深地吸一口气，在意识底层搜寻雪橇、山丘和雪的记忆。 他一下子就找到了，根本没费多少力气。他再度坐在山丘的顶端，置身大雪纷飞的世界。 乔纳思笑得合不拢嘴，吐出像蒸气般的呼吸。他想起先前接受的引导，便低头往下看。他看见自己握着绳索的一双手飘满了雪花。接着他看见腿，便把腿移向旁边，好看看下头的雪橇。 他怔住了，眼睛瞪得好大。这次不再是匆匆一瞥的印象，而是持续的画面。他眨眨眼，再度瞪视着雪橇——它跟苹果、费欧娜的头发在一瞬间所产生的幻象，具有相同的神秘的特质。可是雪橇没有起变化，它从头到尾都是那个样子。 乔纳思张开眼睛，他还是躺在床上。传授人好奇地望着他。 “没错，”乔纳思慢慢地说，“就是我在雪橇上看见的东西。” “让我再做个试验。看书柜那边。你有没有看见桌子后面，柜子顶端最上面那一排书？” 乔纳思用眼睛搜寻，他望着那些书，书果然起了变化。 但变化一闪而过，在下一秒钟又恢复正常了。 “又发生了，”乔纳思说，“书也起变化了，但是稍纵即逝“我的猜测没错，”传授人说，“你开始看见红色。” “那是什么？” 传授人叹了一口气：“怎么解释呢？曾经，在大家都拥有记忆的年代，每个东西除了现在保留的形状和大小，另外还有一项叫做‘颜色’的特质。 颜色的种类非常多样，红色就是其中的一种。那也就是你现在开始看见的色彩。你的朋友费欧娜拥有一头红发，这很罕见，以前我就注意到了。所以你提到费欧娜的头发时，提供给我一个线索，推测你可能开始看见红色了。” “那我在大礼堂看见的那些脸呢？” 传授人摇摇头：“不，肌肉不是红色的，但含有红色调。 事实上，从前有段时间，人们的肌肤有很多种颜色，这点以后你在记忆中会发现。后来我们走向同化，所有的肌肤就只有一个颜色了。你看见的就是红色调。苹果或你朋友的发色应该比较深或鲜明，至于人的脸色应该比较淡。” 传授人突然低声轻笑：“我们还无法完全掌控‘同化’，遗传专家一直在努力解开这个结。我想象费欧娜这样的红头发一定会把他们搞疯。” 乔纳思专心聆听，努力消化、理解。“那雪橇呢？”他问：“它同样是红色的，却不会起变化。传授人，它自始至终都是红色的。” “因为它是来自过去的一段记忆，那时候颜色是存在的。” “它好……噢，真希望有更贴切的词来形容！红色好漂亮！” 传授人点点头：“是很漂亮。 “你看得见颜色吗？” “什么颜色都看得见，所有的颜色。” “以后我也可以吗？” “当然，在你接收了记忆以后。你已经拥有超眼界的能力，接着你就会获得智能，了解颜色以及其他更多的事情。” 乔纳思现在对智能还不感兴趣。现在吸引他的是颜色。 “为什么其他人看不见？为什么颜色会消失呢？” 传授人耸耸肩：“是我们的人做了这样的选择，选择同化。这已经是我之前很久、很久、很久以前的事了。我们放弃阳光的同时，也放弃了颜色和差异性。”他想了一下，“我们因此控制了很多事物，但也放弃了很多事物。” “我们不应该这么做！”乔纳思愤怒地说。 传授人很惊讶乔纳思的反应这样激烈，他苦笑了一下：“你的推论下得很快。我花了好几年才想通这一点，也许你会比我早开窍。” 他瞄了一眼墙上的时钟：“现在躺下来吧，我们还有很多事要做。” “传授人，”乔纳思一边问，一边挪动身体，“在您成为记忆传承人的过程中，您的情况是怎样呢？您说您也有超眼界的现象，只是方式跟我不同。” 那双手来到他的背部：“改天吧，”传授人温和的说，“改天再告诉你。现在我们得工作了。我已经想到帮你建立色彩概念的方法了。现在闭上眼睛，不要动，我要给你彩虹的记忆。”

Chapter 13 Days went by, and weeks. Jonas learned, through the memories, the names of colors; and now he began to see them all, in his ordinary life (though he knew it was ordinary no longer, and would never be again). But they didn't last. There would be a glimpse of green — the landscaped lawn around the Central Plaza; a bush on the riverbank. The bright orange of pumpkins being trucked in from the agricultural fields beyond the community boundary — seen in an instant, the flash of brilliant color, but gone again, returning to their flat and hueless shade. The Giver told him that it would be a very long time before he had the colors to keep. "But I want them!" Jonas said angrily. "It isn't fair that nothing has color!" "Not fair?" The Giver looked at Jonas curiously. "Explain what you mean." "Well..." Jonas had to stop and think it through. "If everything's the same, then there aren't any choices! I want to wake up in the morning and decide things! A blue tunic, or a red one?" He looked down at himself, at the colorless fabric of his clothing. "But it's all the same, always." Then he laughed a little. "I know it's not important, what you wear. It doesn't matter. But — " "It's the choosing that's important, isn't it?" The Giver asked him. Jonas nodded. "My little brother — " he began, and then corrected himself. "No, that's inaccurate. He's not my brother, not really. But this new child that my family takes care of — his name's Gabriel?" "Yes, I know about Gabriel." "Well, he's right at the age where he's learning so much. He grabs toys when we hold them in front of him — my father says he's learning small-muscle control. And he's really cute." The Giver nodded. "But now that I can see colors, at least sometimes, I was just thinking: what if we could hold up things that were bright red, or bright yellow, and he could choose? Instead of the Sameness." "He might make wrong choices." "Oh." Jonas was silent for a minute. "Oh, I see what you mean. It wouldn't matter for a new child toy. But later it does matter, doesn't it? We don't dare to let people make choices of their own." "Not safe?" The Giver suggested. "Definitely not safe," Jonas said with certainty. "What if they were allowed to choose their own mate? And chose wrong? "Or what if," he went on, almost laughing at the absurdity, "they chose their own jobs?" "Frightening, isn't it?" The Giver said. Jonas chuckled. "Very frightening. I can't even imagine it. We really have to protect people from wrong choices." "It's safer." "Yes," Jonas agreed. "Much safer." But when the conversation turned to other things, Jonas was left, still, with a feeling of frustration that he didn't understand. He found that he was often angry, now: irrationally angry at his group mates that they were satisfied with their lives which had none of the vibrance his own was taking on. And he was angry at himself, that he could not change that for them. He tried. Without asking permission from The Giver, because he feared — or knew — that it would be denied, he tried to give his new awareness to his friends. "Asher," Jonas said one morning, "look at those flowers very carefully." They were standing beside a bed of geraniums planted near the Hall of Open Records. He put his hands on Asher's shoulders, and concentrated on the red of the petals, trying to hold it as long as he could, and trying at the same time to transmit the awareness of red to his friend. "What's the matter?" Asher asked uneasily. "Is something wrong?" He moved away from Jonas's hands. It was extremely rude for one citizen to touch another outside of family units. "No, nothing. I thought for a minute that they were wilting, and we should let the Gardening Crew know they needed more watering." Jonas sighed, and turned away. One evening he came home from his training weighted with new knowledge. The Giver had chosen a startling and disturbing memory that day. Under the touch of his hands, Jonas had found himself suddenly in a place that was completely alien: hot and windswept under a vast blue sky. There were tufts of sparse grass, a few bushes and rocks, and nearby he could see an area of thicker vegetation: broad, low trees outlined against the sky. He could hear noises: the sharp crack of weapons — he perceived the word guns — and then shouts, and an immense crashing thud as something fell, tearing branches from the trees. He heard voices calling to one another. Peering from the place where he stood hidden behind some shrubbery, he was reminded of what The Giver had told him, that there had been a time when flesh had different colors. Two of these men had dark brown skin; the others were light. Going closer, he watched them hack the tusks from a motionless elephant on the ground and haul them away, spattered with blood. He felt himself overwhelmed with a new perception of the color he knew as red. Then the men were gone, speeding toward the horizon in a vehicle that spit pebbles from its whirling tires. One hit his forehead and stung him there. But the memory continued, though Jonas ached now for it to end. Now he saw another elephant emerge from the place where it had stood hidden in the trees. Very slowly it walked to the mutilated body and looked down. With its sinuous trunk it stroked the huge corpse; then it reached up, broke some leafy branches with a snap, and draped them over the mass of torn thick flesh. Finally it tilted its massive head, raised its trunk, and roared into the empty landscape. Jonas had never heard such a sound. It was a sound of rage and grief and it seemed never to end. He could still hear it when he opened his eyes and lay anguished on the bed where he received the memories. It continued to roar into his consciousness as he pedaled slowly home. "Lily," he asked that evening when his sister took her comfort object, the stuffed elephant, from the shelf, "did you know that once there really were elephants? Live ones?" She glanced down at the ragged comfort object and grinned. "Right," she said, skeptically. "Sure, Jonas." Jonas went and sat beside them while his father untied Lily's hair ribbons and combed her hair. He placed one hand on each of their shoulders. With all of his being he tried to give each of them a piece of the memory: not of the tortured cry of the elephant, but of the being of the elephant, of the towering, immense creature and the meticulous touch with which it had tended its friend at the end. But his father had continued to comb Lily's long hair, and Lily, impatient, had finally wiggled under her brother's touch. "Jonas," she said, "you're hurting me with your hand." "I apologize for hurting you, Lily," Jonas mumbled, and took his hand away. "I accept your apology," Lily responded indifferently, stroking the lifeless elephant. "Giver," Jonas asked once, as they prepared for the day's work, "don't you have a spouse? Aren't you allowed to apply for one?" Although he was exempted from the rules against rudeness, he was aware that this was a rude question. But The Giver had encouraged all of his questions, not seeming to be embarrassed or offended by even the most personal. The Giver chuckled. "No, there's no rule against it. And I did have a spouse. You're forgetting how old I am, Jonas. My former spouse lives now with the Childless Adults." "Oh, of course." Jonas had forgotten The Giver's obvious age. When adults of the community became older, their lives became different. They were no longer needed to create family units. Jonas's own parents, when he and Lily were grown, would go to live with the Childless Adults. "You'll be able to apply for a spouse, Jonas, if you want to. I'll warn you, though, that it will be difficult. Your living arrangements will have to be different from those of most family units, because the books are forbidden to citizens. You and I are the only ones with access to the books." Jonas glanced around at the astonishing array of volumes. From time to time, now, he could see their colors. With their hours together, his and The Giver's, consumed by conversation and by the transmission of memories, Jonas had not yet opened any of the books. But he read the titles here and there, and knew that they contained all of the knowledge of centuries, and that one day they would belong to him. "So if I have a spouse, and maybe children, I will have to hide the books from them?" The Giver nodded. "I wasn't permitted to share the books with my spouse, that's correct. And there are other difficulties, too. You remember the rule that says the new Receiver can't talk about his training?" Jonas nodded. Of course he remembered. It had turned out, by far, to be the most frustrating of the rules he was required to obey. "When you become the official Receiver, when we're finished here, you'll be given a whole new set of rules. Those are the rules that I obey. And it won't surprise you that I am forbidden to talk about my work to anyone except the new Receiver. That's you, of course. "So there will be a whole part of your life which you won't be able to share with a family. It's hard, Jonas. It was hard for me. "You do understand, don't you, that this is my life? The memories?" Jonas nodded again, but he was puzzled. Didn't life consist of the things you did each day? There wasn't anything else, really. "I've seen you taking walks," he said. The Giver sighed. "I walk. I eat at mealtime. And when I am called by the Committee of Elders, I appear before them, to give them counsel and advice." "Do you advise them often?" Jonas was a little frightened at the thought that one day he would be the one to advise the ruling body. But the Giver said no. "Rarely. Only when they are faced with something that they have not experienced before. Then they call upon me to use the memories and advise them. But it very seldom happens. Sometimes I wish they'd ask for my wisdom more often — there are so many things I could tell them; things I wish they would change. But they don't want change. Life here is so orderly, so predictable — so painless. It's what they've chosen." "I don't know why they even need a Receiver, then, if they never call upon him," Jonas commented. "They need me. And you," The Giver said, but didn't explain. "They were reminded of that ten years ago." "What happened ten years ago?" Jonas asked. "Oh, I know. You tried to train a successor and it failed. Why? Why did that remind them?" The Giver smiled grimly. "When the new Receiver failed, the memories that she had received were released. They didn't come back to me. They went..." He paused, and seemed to be struggling with the concept. "I don't know, exactly. They went to the place where memories once existed before Receivers were created. Someplace out there — " He gestured vaguely with his arm. "And then the people had access to them. Apparently that's the way it was, once. Everyone had access to memories. "It was chaos," he said. "They really suffered for a while. Finally it subsided as the memories were assimilated. But it certainly made them aware of how they need a Receiver to contain all that pain. And knowledge." "But you have to suffer like that all the time," Jonas pointed out. The Giver nodded. "And you will. It's my life. It will be yours." Jonas thought about it, about what it would be like for him. "Along with walking and eating and — " He looked around the walls of books. "Reading? That's it?" The Giver shook his head. "Those are simply the things that I do. My life is here." "In this room?" The Giver shook his head. He put his hands to his own face, to his chest. "No. Here, in my being. Where the memories are." "My Instructors in science and technology have taught us about how the brain works," Jonas told him eagerly. "It's full of electrical impulses. It's like a computer. If you stimulate one part of the brain with an electrode, it — " He stopped talking. He could see an odd look on The Giver's face. "They know nothing," The Giver said bitterly. Jonas was shocked. Since the first day in the Annex room, they had together disregarded the rules about rudeness, and Jonas felt comfortable with that now. But this was different, and far beyond rude. This was a terrible accusation. What if someone had heard? He glanced quickly at the wall speaker, terrified that the Committee might be listening as they could at any time. But, as always during their sessions together, the switch had been turned to OFF. "Nothing?" Jonas whispered nervously. "But my instructors — " The Giver flicked his hand as if brushing something aside. "Oh, your instructors are well trained. They know their scientific facts. Everyone is well trained for his job. "It's just that...without the memories it's all meaningless. They gave that burden to me. And to the previous Receiver. And the one before him." "And back and back and back," Jonas said, knowing the phrase that always came. The Giver smiled, though his smile was oddly harsh. "That's right. And next it will be you. A great honor." "Yes, sir. They told me that at the Ceremony. The very highest honor." Some afternoons The Giver sent him away without training. Jonas knew, on days when he arrived to find The Giver hunched over, rocking his body slightly back and forth, his face pale, that he would be sent away. "Go," The Giver would tell him tensely. "I'm in pain today. Come back tomorrow." On those days, worried and disappointed, Jonas would walk alone beside the river. The paths were empty of people except for the few Delivery Crews and Landscape Workers here and there. Small children were all at the Childcare Center after school, and the older ones busy with volunteer hours or training. By himself, he tested his own developing memory. He watched the landscape for glimpses of the green that he knew was embedded in the shrubbery; when it came flickering into his consciousness, he focused upon it, keeping it there, darkening it, holding it in his vision as long as possible until his head hurt and he let it fade away. He stared at the flat, colorless sky, bringing blue from it, and remembered sunshine until finally, for an instant, he could feel warmth. He stood at the foot of the bridge that spanned the river, the bridge that citizens were allowed to cross only on official business. Jonas had crossed it on school trips, visiting the outlying communities, and he knew that the land beyond the bridge was much the same, flat and well ordered, with fields for agriculture. The other communities he had seen on visits were essentially the same as his own, the only differences were slightly altered styles of dwellings, slightly different schedules in the schools. He wondered what lay in the far distance where he had never gone. The land didn't end beyond those nearby communities. Were there hills Elsewhere? Were there vast wind-torn areas like the place he had seen in memory, the place where the elephant died? "Giver," he asked one afternoon following a day when he had been sent away, "what causes you pain?" When the Giver was silent, Jonas continued. "The Chief Elder told me, at the beginning, that the receiving of memory causes terrible pain. And you described for me that the failure of the last new Receiver released painful memories to the community. "But I haven't suffered, Giver. Not really." Jonas smiled. "Oh, I remember the sunburn you gave me on the very first day. But that wasn't so terrible. What is it that makes you suffer so much? If you gave some of it to me, maybe your pain would be less." The Giver nodded. "Lie down," he said. "It's time, I suppose. I can't shield you forever. You'll have to take it all on eventually. "Let me think," he went on, when Jonas was on the bed, waiting, a little fearful. "All right," The Giver said after a moment, "I've decided. We'll start with something familiar. Let's go once again to a hill, and a sled." He placed his hands on Jonas's back. 日子一天又一天、一周又一周地过去。通过记忆的传授，乔纳思认识了各种色彩，甚至开始在平常生活中看见各种色彩（他的生活再也不平常，也无法恢复平常了），只不过他的色感总是无法持久。比如他曾在中央广场的草地以及河边的草丛中，瞥见一抹绿意，还看见卡车运载着边界外农场的橙色南瓜，即使隔得老远，他还是看见刹那间闪耀出的鲜亮色彩。但都一闪即逝，随即恢复平淡无奇的外表。 传授人告诉他，要花很长一段时间才能学会保留这些色彩。 “我好想早点儿永久留住色彩！”乔纳思生气地说，“什么东西都没有颜色，实在不公平！” “不公平？”传授人好奇地望着乔纳思，“解释一下你的想法。” “嗯……”乔纳思必须停下来好好思考，“如果什么东西都一样，就没有选择的机会了。我很想一早醒来就可以做选择，比如穿蓝色上衣或红色上衣。” 他低头望着自己没有任何色彩的衣服：“但是，所有的衣服都一样，永远如此。”〖贼吧Ｚei8。Ｃom电子书下载：Zei8.com 贼吧电子书〗 说着他微笑了起来：“我知道穿什么衣服并不重要，关系也不大，但是……” “重要的是选择权，对不对？”传授人问。 乔纳思点点头，“我的弟弟……”他赶紧修正：“不，他不是我弟弟，他只是接受我们家特别照顾的小宝宝，他的名字叫加波。” “哦，我知道加波。” “就他的年纪来看，他学得很快。如果把玩具放在前面，他就会去抓——我爸爸说他正在学习控制小肌肉——他真的好可爱。” 传授人点点头。 “但是，现在我看得见颜色，至少有时候看得见啦。我就会想：如果我拿出的是鲜红色、鲜黄色的玩具，不知他会选择哪样？” “他可能会选错。” “噢，”乔纳思沉默了一秒钟，“我了解你的意思。小宝宝选什么玩具还无所谓，但是以后就至关重要了，对不对？ 所以我们不敢让人们自己做选择。” “不安全？”传授人提示。 “绝对不安全。”乔纳思很肯定地说，“如果他们可以自己选配偶，却选错了呢？” “又如果，”他继续说，觉得自己的想法很荒谬、很可笑，“他们可以自己选择工作呢？” “好可怕，不是吗？”传授人说。 乔纳思轻声低笑：“非常可怕，也很难想象。我们一定要保护大家，避免错误的选择。” “这样安全多了。” “对，”乔纳思同意，“安全多了。” 当话题转移后，乔纳思感到一种莫名的沮丧。 近来他常生气：对同学的安于现状生气，为何大家无法像他一样去享受色彩呢？他也对自己生气，生气他无法为大家带来改变。 他曾瞒着传授人——因为他担心会被拒绝——偷偷地将自己崭新的知觉告诉朋友。 “亚瑟，”有一天早上他说，“你仔细看这些花。”那时他们站在档案管理中心附近的一座天竺葵花圃边，他把手搭在亚瑟的肩膀上，专注地想着红色的花瓣，并尽可能将时间拉长，希望能把红色的知觉转移给这位朋友。 “怎么回事？”亚瑟不自在地问：“哪里不对劲？”他把乔纳思的手推开。因为伸手碰触别人，是非常鲁莽的行为。 “没事。我只是在想这些花快枯萎了，我们应该通知园丁多浇一点水。”乔纳思叹了一口气，转身离开。 有一天晚上，他做完训练回家，脑海里塞满了新知识。 那天传授人选择了一段令人既惊骇又焦虑的记忆。在他双手的触摸下，乔纳思发现自己置身在一个完全陌生的环境里，那里非常炎热、狂风呼啸、蓝天如洗，周围有几束稀稀落落的青草、几丛灌木和几块岩石，不远处是一片宽阔、低矮的树林。他听见嘈杂音，一阵武器爆裂声让他意识到“熗”这个字；喊叫声四起，不知什么东西倒下来，发出轰然巨响，还将大树的枝干给压断了。 呼喊声此起彼落，他躲在灌木丛后面偷看，想起传授人曾告诉他：以前的人肤色不一样。在这群人中就有两位肤色是深褐色的，其他人则是浅色。他靠得更近，看见地上躺着一头大象，动也不动，这些人砍下它的长牙，鲜血四溅。他不知所措地呆立着，体悟到红色的另一个象征。 这些人走了，坐上车子，加速往地平线的方向驶去，旋转的车轮弹起小石子，其中一颗击中他的前额，猛地一阵刺痛。但是记忆继续向前，乔纳思只得忍痛跟到底。 这时他看见另一头大象从躲藏的树丛中走出来，慢慢踱到那只遇害的大象身旁，低头凝视，用蜷曲的鼻子抚摩那巨大的尸身；然后它抬起鼻子，扯下一些树叶，覆盖在那伤痕累累的身躯上。 最后它抬起头，举起象牙，对着空旷的大地怒吼。吼声中有无尽的愤怒和忧伤，乔纳思从未听过这样的声音。 他张开眼睛，痛苦地躺在接收记忆的床上，那声音犹在耳际萦绕。就连骑车回家的路上,怒吼声依然充塞他的心田。 “莉莉那天晚上，当莉莉从柜子上拿下她的填充大象玩具时，他问她：“你知道以前有活生生的大象吗？” 她看着手上破旧的玩具，露齿一笑：“当然有啦，乔纳思。” 爸爸帮莉莉解开蝴蝶结，梳理她的头发。乔纳思走过去，将手搭在他们两个人的肩膀上。他费力地想将一小段大象过去的形象，例如它们的躯体如何的雄伟硕大，以及它在朋友临终前体贴地抚触和照顾等记忆传送给他们。 爸爸只是继续梳着莉莉的长头发，莉莉却对哥哥的触摸感到不耐烦，拼命扭着身子。“乔纳思，”她说，“你弄痛我了。” “很抱歉，莉莉。”乔纳思喃喃说着，将手移开。 “我接受你的道歉。”莉莉满不在乎地回答，一边轻抚着手上那只没有生命的大象。 “传授人，”有一次在准备工作时，乔纳思问，“您有没有配偶？您不是可以申请一位吗？”虽然在这里可以不受礼教约束，他还是觉得这个问题有些唐突。但是传授人向来鼓励他发问，就连最私密的问题都不觉得受窘或被冒犯。 传授人微微一笑：“没错，没有规定说我不能申请配偶。 我也的确有配偶。你忘了我已经多老了，乔纳思。我以前的配偶现在跟其他没有孩子的成人住在一起。” “哦，当然了。”乔纳思忘了传授人已经上了年纪。社区里的成人一旦老了，生活形态就不一样了，他们不用再去维系一个家庭。所以等到乔纳思和莉莉长大成人，他们的爸妈就会去跟没有孩子的成人一起住。 “乔纳思，如果你想要，以后也可以申请配偶。不过我要先警告你，你的生活方式跟一般家庭不一样，因为这些书禁止一般居民阅读，你跟我是唯一可以翻阅的人，所以你的婚姻生活难度很高。” 乔纳思望着林林总总的书册。在一次又一次的记忆传承后，现在他已经可以看见颜色，不过还没有机会打开任何一本书。他读过墙上每本书的书名，知道里头蕴藏着过去几世纪以来的知识，总有一天，这些书籍会通通属于他。 “如果我有配偶，也许还有孩子，我必须把书藏起来，不让他们看见吗？” 传授人点点头：“我必须严格遵守这项规定。此外，我也不准跟配偶分享这些书。你记不记得规则里说：不准跟别人提起训练的内容？” 乔纳思点点头，他当然记得，现在这已变成最令他沮丧的规则。 “当这里的训练结束，你成为正式的记忆传授人之后，就得面临另一套全新的规则，也就是我现在遵循的规则，其中有一条你会猜得到——就是不准跟任何人谈论工作内容，除了新的记忆传授人以外。当然，对我而言，那个人就是你啦。 所以你的生命完全无法跟家人共享，这很困难，乔纳思，对我来说很困难。记忆就是我的生活，我的生命，你很了解，不是吗？” 乔纳思又点点头，但他很迷惑，生命不是由每天做的事建构起来的吗，除此之外还有什么呢？“我看过您散步。”他说。 传授人叹了一口气，“我散步，用餐时间用餐，长老会找我的时候，就出现在他们面前，给他们提供意见或建议。” “您经常提供意见吗？”乔纳思有点害怕，担心有朝一日他得单独给管理统治阶层提供建议。 传授人摇摇头：“很少，只有面临突发事件时，他们才会传唤我，要我用记忆提供建议，但这种状况少之又少。有时候，我真希望他们能多找我，多运用我的智能，在很多事情上我都可以提供建议。我希望他们能有所改变，但是他们不想改变。生命在这里是这样平常、规律、乏味，这就是他们的选择。” “那我就不明白了，如果他们不找记忆传授人，为什么还要设这个职位呢？”乔纳思提出看法。 “他们需要我，也需要你。”传授人说，但是没有多加解释，“十年前发生的那件事更提醒了他们这一点。” “十年前发生了什么事？”乔纳思问，“哦，我知道了，您想要训练一名记忆传授人，结果失败了。为什么？为什么这件事会提醒他们？” 传授人深沉地苦笑了一下：“当新记忆传承人的训练失败时，原本由她接收的记忆便释放出来，这些记忆没有回到我身上，它们……” 他停下来，好像在跟那概念抗争：“我不是很确定，那些记忆回到创造记忆传授人之前的某个地方……”他含糊地打了一个手势，“然后被人们接收到了。很明显的，有一阵子每个人都获得那些记忆。” “那真是一场大灾难。”他说，“他们真的苦恼了一阵子。最后记忆被吸收完，事情才平静下来。这件事让他们体会到，他们确实需要一位记忆传授人来接收所有的痛苦和知识。” “但你却得无时无刻不在受苦。”乔纳思指出。 传授人点点头：“将来你也一样，这就是我的生命，也是你以后的生命。” 乔纳思想象自己的未来：“散步、吃饭，还有……”他环视墙上的书，“阅读？就这样？” 传授人摇摇头，“那些只是我平常做的事，我的生命在这里。” “在这个房间里？” 传授人又摇摇头，将手放在自己的脸上、胸膛上：“不，这里，在我身上，这个装载记忆的地方。” “科学工程老师告诉过我们大脑是怎么运作的。”乔纳思急切地说：“我们的大脑里有好多电子脉冲，就像计算机，如果你用电极刺激某部分的大脑，它就会……”他住口不说，因为传授人脸上出现了怪异的表情。 “他们什么也不懂。”传授人苦涩地说。 乔纳思很震惊。打从受训第一天开始，他们就不受规则约束，乔纳思对这一点感到非常自在。但是这句话不一样，比违反规则更加严重，这已是一种指责，如果被别人听到了怎么办？ 他飞快地看了一眼墙上的扩音器，生怕长老会跟平常一样监听别人谈话。还好，跟他们每次一起工作时一样，开关是关着的。 “什么都不懂？”乔纳思紧张的嘀咕着，“但是我的老师……” 传授人甩甩手，就好像要把东西拂到旁边：“哦，你的老师受到很好的训练，了解他们知道的科学真相，每个人都接受了完整的职业训练。只不过……没有记忆，所有的东西都没有意义。他们把记忆的重担加在我身上，我的前一任记忆传承人，以及他以前的记忆传承人身上。” “以及以前、以前、再以前的……”乔纳思很了解地接着说。 传授人笑了，但笑声有些刺耳：“没错，下一个就是你了，真是天大的荣耀。” “是的，先生。在典礼中他们跟我说过了，至高无上的荣耀。 有几个下午，传授人没有训练他就让他离开。乔纳思发现只要他抵达时看见传授人弓起身子，轻微的前后摇晃，脸色苍白，那他很快就会被打发走。 “走吧！”传授人紧绷着脸告诉他，“今天我很痛苦，明天再来。” 在那样的日子里，乔纳思只能怀着担心和失望的心情，沿着河岸骑回家。路上只偶尔见到几位送货员和正在工作的园丁。小一点的孩子下课后都留在育儿中心，大一点的则忙着当义工或受训。 他想测试发展中的记忆，于是望着路边的草丛，想找出绿色；当绿色跃现时，他马上专注捕捉，加深它的形象，并尽可能将它保留在自己的视觉中，直到头痛了，才让记忆飘走。 他凝视着平坦、毫无色彩的天空，将蓝色的记忆引出来，最后终于回想起阳光，并感觉到短暂的温暖。 他站在跨越河面的桥墩下，望着这座只有外出处理公务方可穿越的桥梁。乔纳思曾经在学校旅行中，跨过这座桥去拜访外界的社区。河界以外的地区和这里大同小异，一样都是平坦、井然有序的农田。沿途所见的社区也跟自己的社区差不多，只有房屋样式跟学校的课程略有不同而已。 他很好奇：在更远的、那些他没去过的地方，会是什么景致？邻近的社区外面有着广大的土地，山丘是不是就坐落在那里？有没有他记忆中看见的那个刮着风沙、大象死亡的地方？ 有一次，在他被打发走的第二天下午，他问传授人；“是什么让您如此痛苦？” 传授人沉默不语，乔纳思继续说：“首席长老一开始就告诉我，接收记忆会带来无比的痛苦。您也跟我描述过，上一位记忆传承人在失败后将痛苦的记忆释放出来。但是，我没有受过苦，真的还没受过苦。”乔纳思笑了，“哦，您在第一天让我感受到日晒的痛，但那并不严重。是什么让您如此痛苦？如果您转移一点给我，也许就可以减轻您的痛苦。” 传授人点点头：“躺下来，”他说，“我想，时候到了，我不可能永远保护你。你最后还是得承受一切。” “让我想想。”他继续说。乔纳思躺在床上，内心不由得忐忑起来。 “好吧！”过了一会儿，传授人说，“我决定了，我们就从较熟悉的事物开始，让我们再次回到山丘和雪橇上。” 他将双手放在乔纳思的背上。

Chapter 14 It was much the same, this memory, though the hill seemed to be a different one, steeper, and the snow was not falling as thickly as it had before. It was colder, also, Jonas perceived. He could see, as he sat waiting at the top of the hill, that the snow beneath the sled was not thick and soft as it had been before, but hard, and coated with bluish ice. The sled moved forward, and Jonas grinned with delight, looking forward to the breathtaking slide down through the invigorating air. But the runners, this time, couldn't slice through the frozen expanse as they had on the other, snow-cushioned hill. They skittered sideways and the sled gathered speed. Jonas pulled at the rope, trying to steer, but the steepness and speed took control from his hands and he was no longer enjoying the feeling of freedom but instead, terrified, was at the mercy of the wild acceleration downward over the ice. Sideways, spinning, the sled hit a bump in the hill and Jonas was jarred loose and thrown violently into the air. He fell with his leg twisted under him, and could hear the crack of bone. His face scraped along jagged edges of ice and when he came, at last, to a stop, he lay shocked and still, feeling nothing at first but fear. Then, the first wave of pain. He gasped. It was as if a hatchet lay lodged in his leg, slicing through each nerve with a hot blade. In his agony he perceived the word "fire" and felt flames licking at the torn bone and flesh. He tried to move, and could not. The pain grew. He screamed. There was no answer. Sobbing, he turned his head and vomited onto the frozen snow. Blood dripped from his face into the vomit. "Nooooo!" he cried, and the sound disappeared into the empty landscape, into the wind. Then, suddenly, he was in the Annex room again, writhing on the bed. His face was wet with tears. Able to move now, he rocked his own body back and forth, breathing deeply to release the remembered pain. He sat, and looked at his own leg, where it lay straight on the bed, unbroken. The brutal slice of pain was gone. But the leg ached horribly, still, and his face felt raw. "May I have relief-of-pain, please?" he begged. It was always provided in his everyday life for the bruises and wounds, for a mashed finger, a stomach ache, a skinned knee from a fall from a bike. There was always a daub of anesthetic ointment, or a pill; or in severe instances, an injection that brought complete and instantaneous deliverance. But The Giver said no, and looked away. Limping, Jonas walked home, pushing his bicycle, that evening. The sunburn pain had been so small, in comparison, and had not stayed with him. But this ache lingered. It was not unendurable, as the pain on the hill had been. Jonas tried to be brave. He remembered that the Chief Elder had said he was brave. "Is something wrong, Jonas?" his father asked at the evening meal. "You're so quiet tonight. Aren't you feeling well? Would you like some medication?" But Jonas remembered the rules. No medication for anything related to his training. And no discussion of his training. At the time for sharing-of-feelings, he simply said that he felt tired, that his school lessons had been unusually demanding that day. He went to his sleeping room early, and from behind the closed door he could hear his parents and sister laughing as they gave Gabriel his evening bath. They have never known pain, he thought. The realization made him feel desperately lonely, and he rubbed his throbbing leg. He eventually slept. Again and again he dreamed of the anguish and the isolation on the forsaken hill. The daily training continued, and now it always included pain. The agony of the fractured leg began to seem no more than a mild discomfort as The Giver led Jonas firmly, little by little, into the deep and terrible suffering of the past. Each time, in his kindness, The Giver ended the afternoon with a color-filled memory of pleasure: a brisk sail on a blue-green lake; a meadow dotted with yellow wildflowers; an orange sunset behind mountains. It was not enough to assuage the pain that Jonas was beginning, now, to know. "Why?" Jonas asked him after he had received a torturous memory in which he had been neglected and unfed; the hunger had caused excruciating spasms in his empty, distended stomach. He lay on the bed, aching. "Why do you and I have to hold these memories?" "It gives us wisdom," The Giver replied. "Without wisdom I could not fulfill my function of advising the Committee of Elders when they call upon me." "But what wisdom do you get from hunger?" Jonas groaned. His stomach still hurt, though the memory had ended. "Some years ago," The Giver told him, "before your birth, a lot of citizens petitioned the Committee of Elders. They wanted to increase the rate of births. They wanted each Birthmother to be assigned four births instead of three, so that the population would increase and there would be more Laborers available." Jonas nodded, listening. "That makes sense." "The idea was that certain family units could accommodate an additional child." Jonas nodded again. "Mine could," he pointed out. "We have Gabriel this year, and it's fun, having a third child." "The Committee of Elders sought my advice," The Giver said. "It made sense to them, too, but it was a new idea, and they came to me for wisdom." "And you used your memories?" The Giver said yes. "And the strongest memory that came was hunger. It came from many generations back. Centuries back. The population had gotten so big that hunger was everywhere. Excruciating hunger and starvation. It was followed by warfare." Warfare? It was a concept Jonas did not know. But hunger was familiar to him now. Unconsciously he rubbed his own abdomen, recalling the pain of its unfulfilled needs. "So you described that to them?" "They don't want to hear about pain. They just seek the advice. I simply advised them against increasing the population." "But you said that that was before my birth. They hardly ever come to you for advice. Only when they — what was it you said? When they have a problem they've never faced before. When did it happen last?" "Do you remember the day when the plane flew over the community?" "Yes. I was scared." "So were they. They prepared to shoot it down. But they sought my advice. I told them to wait." "But how did you know? How did you know the pilot was lost?" "I didn't. I used my wisdom, from the memories. I knew that there had been times in the past — terrible times — when people had destroyed others in haste, in fear, and had brought about their own destruction." Jonas realized something. "That means," he said slowly, "that you have memories of destruction. And you have to give them to me, too, because I have to get the wisdom." The Giver nodded. "But it will hurt," Jonas said. It wasn't a question. "It will hurt terribly," The Giver agreed. "But why can't everyone have the memories? I think it would seem a little easier if the memories were shared. You and I wouldn't have to bear so much by ourselves, if everybody took a part." The Giver sighed. "You're right," he said. "But then everyone would be burdened and pained. They don't want that. And that's the real reason The Receiver is so vital to them, and so honored. They selected me — and you — to lift that burden from themselves." "When did they decide that?" Jonas asked angrily. "It wasn't fair. Let's change it!" "How do you suggest we do that? I've never been able to think of a way, and I'm supposed to be the one with all the wisdom." "But there are two of us now," Jonas said eagerly. "Together we can think of something!" The Giver watched him with a wry smile. "Why can't we just apply for a change of rules?" Jonas suggested. The Giver laughed; then Jonas, too, chuckled reluctantly. "The decision was made long before my time or yours," The Giver said, "and before the previous Receiver, and — " He waited. "Back and back and back." Jonas repeated the familiar phrase. Sometimes it had seemed humorous to him. Sometimes it had seemed meaningful and important. Now it was ominous. It meant, he knew, that nothing could be changed. The new child Gabriel, was growing, and successfully passed the tests of maturity that the Nurturers gave each month; he could sit alone, now, could reach for and grasp small play objects, and he had six teeth. During the day-time hours, Father reported, he was cheerful and seemed of normal intelligence. But he remained fretful at night, whimpering often, needing frequent attention. "After all this extra time I've put in with him," Father said one evening after Gabriel had been bathed and was lying, for the moment, hugging his hippo placidly in the small crib that had replaced the basket, "I hope they're not going to decide to release him." "Maybe it would be for the best," Mother suggested. "I know you don't mind getting up with him at night. But the lack of sleep is awfully hard for me." "If they release Gabriel, can we get another new child as a visitor?" asked Lily. She was kneeling beside the crib, making funny faces at the little one, who was smiling back at her. Jonas's mother rolled her eyes in dismay. "No," Father said, smiling. He ruffled Lily's hair. "It's very rare, anyway, that a new child status is as uncertain as Gabriel's. It probably won't happen again, for a long time. "Anyway," he sighed, "they won't make the decision for a while. Right now we're all preparing for a release we'll probably have to make very soon. There's a Birth-mother who's expecting twin males next month." "Oh, dear," Mother said, shaking her head. "If they're identical, I hope you're not the one assigned — " "I am. I'm next on the list. I'll have to select the one to be nurtured, and the one to be released. It's usually not hard, though. Usually it's just a matter of birth weight. We release the smaller of the two." Jonas, listening, thought suddenly about the bridge and how, standing there, he had wondered what lay Elsewhere. Was there someone there, waiting, who would receive the tiny released twin? Would it grow up Elsewhere, not knowing, ever, that in this community lived a being who looked exactly the same? For a moment he felt a tiny, fluttering hope that he knew was quite foolish. He hoped that it would be Larissa, waiting. Larissa, the old woman he had bathed. He remembered her sparkling eyes, her soft voice, her low chuckle. Fiona had told him recently that Larissa had been released at a wonderful ceremony. But he knew that the Old were not given children to raise. Larissa's life Elsewhere would be quiet and serene as befit the Old; she would not welcome the responsibility of nurturing a new child who needed feeding and care, and would likely cry at night. "Mother? Father?" he said, the idea coming to him unexpectedly, "why don't we put Gabriel's crib in my room tonight? I know how to feed and comfort him, and it would let you and Father get some sleep." Father looked doubtful. "You sleep so soundly, Jonas. What if his restlessness didn't wake you?" It was Lily who answered that. "If no one goes to tend Gabriel," she pointed out, "he gets very loud. He'd wake all of us, if Jonas slept through it." Father laughed. "You're right, Lily-billy. All right, Jonas, let's try it, just for tonight. I'll take the night off and we'll let Mother get some sleep, too." Gabriel slept soundly for the earliest part of the night. Jonas, in his bed, lay awake for a while; from time to time he raised himself on one elbow, looking over at the crib. The new child was on his stomach, his arms relaxed beside his head, his eyes closed, and his breathing regular and undisturbed. Finally Jonas slept too. Then, as the middle hours of the night approached, the noise of Gabe's restlessness woke Jonas. The new child was turning under his cover, flailing his arms, and beginning to whimper. Jonas rose and went to him. Gently he patted Gabriel's back. Sometimes that was all it took to lull him back to sleep. But the new child still squirmed fretfully under his hand. Still patting rhythmically, Jonas began to remember the wonderful sail that The Giver had given him not long before: a bright, breezy day on a clear turquoise lake, and above him the white sail of the boat billowing as he moved along in the brisk wind. He was not aware of giving the memory; but suddenly he realized that it was becoming dimmer, that it was sliding through his hand into the being of the new child Gabriel became quiet. Startled, Jonas pulled back what was left of the memory with a burst of will. He removed his hand from the little back and stood quietly beside the crib. To himself, he called the memory of the sail forward again. It was still there, but the sky was less blue, the gentle motion of the boat slower, the water of the lake more murky and clouded. He kept it for a while, soothing his own nervousness at what had occurred, then let it go and returned to his bed. Once more, toward dawn, the new child woke and cried out. Again Jonas went to him. This time he quite deliberately placed his hand firmly on Gabriel's back, and released the rest of the calming day on the lake. Again Gabriel slept. But now Jonas lay awake, thinking. He no longer had any more than a wisp of the memory, and he felt a small lack where it had been. He could ask The Giver for another sail, he knew. A sail perhaps on ocean, next time, for Jonas had a memory of ocean, now, and knew what it was; he knew that there were sailboats there, too, in memories yet to be acquired. He wondered, though, if he should confess to The Giver that he had given a memory away. He was not yet qualified to be a Giver himself; nor had Gabriel been selected to be a Receiver. That he had this power frightened him. He decided not to tell. 这次的记忆跟上次很像，但显然不是先前那座山，这里的山势陡峭，雪也没那么大。 乔纳思察觉到天气更冷了。他坐在山顶上等候时，发现雪橇下面的积雪不像以前那么厚、那么松软，而是质地坚硬，上头覆盖着一层浅蓝色的冰。 雪橇向前移动了，乔纳思开心地笑着，期待能在冰凉的空气中开始令人屏息的滑行。 上次的山丘是雪覆大地，所以滑行顺畅；这次却是冰封大地，滑动不易。他一直往旁边溜过去，速度越来越快。乔纳思拉起绳子，想要好好控制雪橇，但是陡峭的山坡、飞快的速度，让他的双手无法招架，他再也没有自由的快感了，取而代之的是狂乱失控的恐惧。 雪橇一路下滑，拐弯，最后“砰”的一声，撞上山崖。 乔纳思被震得离开雪橇，拋向半空中，双脚扭在一起掉落下来，他听见骨头撞裂的声音，脸则被尖锐的冰块边缘刮伤。 终于他停下来了，惊恐地躺着，一动也不能动，除了害怕，什么都感觉不到。 接着，第一波痛苦袭来，他喘了一口气，那痛就像有人拿一把短斧在砍他的腿，将炽热的刀刃慢慢地划入他的神经。在极大的痛楚中，他意识到什么叫做“火”，感觉火焰舔舐着他破裂的骨头和肌肉。他想要移动身体，却做不到，痛苦越来越强烈。 他大声尖叫，却没有任何回应。 他啜泣着转过身，在冰封的雪地上呕吐，鲜血从他脸庞上滴下，跟吐出来的东西混在一起。 “不要！”他大声哭喊着，但是声音被空寂的大地吞没，随风飘逝。 突然之间，他又回到安尼斯房间，整个人蜷缩在床上，脸上沾满了泪水。 现在终于可以移动了，他将身体前后伸展，深深吸了一口气，藉以释放记忆所带来的痛苦。 他坐起来，望着自己好端端的腿，那痛彻心扉的切割感已经远离，但是腿上、脸上依然十分刺痛。 “我可以吃一片止痛药吗？求求你！”平常止痛药随时可得，无论是身体瘀青或受伤、手指压伤、胃痛，或从自行车上摔下来，擦破膝盖，都可以拿到一罐麻醉软膏或一片药；比较严重的，甚至可以马上打一针，把人及时从痛苦中解救出来。 但是传授人说不行，他的眼睛望向远方。 那天傍晚，乔纳思推着自行车，瘸着脚走回家。相比之下，晒伤的痛真的是小巫见大巫，也不会停留在身上。但是这次的疼痛一直持续着。 它不像刚撞上山崖时那般难以忍受，乔纳思试着勇敢一点，他记得首席长老曾经称赞他很勇敢。 “乔纳思，你怎么了？”晚餐时，爸爸问他，“今天晚上你好安静。你哪里不舒服？要不要吃药？” 乔纳思牢记规则，跟训练有关的伤害通通不准服药，也不能跟别人谈论他的训练过程。 到了“分享时间”，他推说自己累了，因为学校的功课非常繁重。 他早早进了卧室，透过紧闭的房门，听见爸妈和妹妹一边帮加波洗澡，一边开心地笑着。 他们从不知道什么是痛苦，这让他感到格外的孤独，不禁开始搓揉疼痛的双腿。最后他睡着了，一次又一次，梦见自己被孤伶伶地遗弃在山丘上。 训练持续进行，每天都免不了痛苦。腿部骨折现在看来还算是温和的，因为在传授人的带领下，乔纳思一点一滴地进入过去更深沉、更恐怖的苦难。每一次，传授人基于不忍，都会好心地用一个充满色彩的欢乐回忆作为结束：也许是在碧绿的湖面上轻快地航行，或是一片开满黄花的草地，或是太阳下山的彩霞。 但是这些美丽的景致并不能减轻他的痛苦。 “为什么？”乔纳思问。他刚刚才又经历了一段磨难，没有人关心他，也没有东西吃，他那空洞、膨胀的胃部因为饥饿而剧烈地痉挛。他苦不堪言地躺在床上，“为什么你和我必须保留这些记忆？” “它带给我们智能。”传授人说，“没有智能，我就不能发挥功能，给长老们提供建议。” “但是您能从饥饿中得到什么智能？”乔纳思忿忿不平地说。虽然经历已经结束，他的胃还在阵阵抽痛。 “许多年前，”传授人告诉他，“在你出生之前，一大堆市民向长老委员会请愿，希望能够提高出生率，而不是只生三个小宝宝，最好是指定每位孕母生四个，这样人口就会增加，也有较多的劳工可以派遣。” 乔纳思一边听，一边点头：“听起来蛮有道理的。” “他们建议，有些家庭可以多容纳一名孩子。” 乔纳思又点点头：“我家就可以。”他指出，“我们今年多了加波。有第三个孩子，很好玩儿。” “长老会征询我的意见，”传授人说，“他们也觉得好像行得通，但这是新措施，所以他们想借助我的智能。” “而你运用了你的记忆？” 传授人承认：“最强烈的记忆来自饥饿。这要回到好几代、好几世纪以前。由于人口过多，到处都有人挨饿。大饥荒饿死了很多人，战争接着就来了。” 战争？这是一个乔纳思从没听过的概念。但是现在他已经对饥饿很熟悉了，他下意识地摸着自己的腹部，回想起挨饿的痛苦，“所以您跟他们描述什么是饥饿？” “他们才不想听痛苦的经验，他们只想听建议，所以我也只是警告他们，反对增加人口。” “不过您说那是在我出生以前的事。他们很少来询问您的意见，除非——您是怎么说的呢？面临了前所未有的状况。上次他们来找您是什么时候呢？” “你记不记得有一天飞机飞过社区的上空？” “记得，我吓坏了。” “他们也一样，他们本来准备把它打下来，但征询我的意见时，我告诉他们不要急，再等等看。” “但是您怎么知道？您怎么知道是驾驶员迷路了？” “我不知道，但是我运用了从记忆中获得的智能。我知道在过去有很多次——实在是太多次了——只要是在匆忙、慌乱和恐惧中摧毁对方，就会为自己带来毁灭。” 乔纳思有点了解了，“那就是说，”他慢慢地说，“您具有毁灭的记忆。而您也会将这个记忆传给我，这样我才能获得智能。” 传授人点点头。 “但过程会很痛苦。”乔纳思已经了然于胸了。 “相当痛苦。”传授人同意道。 “那为什么不让每个人都拥有记忆？如果由大家共同承担，每个人都分得一小部分，您和我也不用承受这么多的痛苦。” 传授人叹了一口气：“你说得没错，”他说，“但是这么一来，每个人都会感受到痛苦，他们就是不要这样。这也是记忆传授人这么重要、地位这么崇高的真正原因。他们选上我——还有你——来为大家挑起这份重担。” “这是什么时候决定的？”乔纳思生气地问，“实在不公平，我们来改变它！” “你认为我们能怎么做？我一直想不出可行的办法，而我还号称是最有智能的人呢！” “现在我们是两个人啦！”乔纳思急切地说，“我们可以一起想出办法的！” 传授人看着乔纳思，露出一丝苦笑。 “我们何不提议修改社区的法规？”乔纳思建议。 传授人大笑，乔纳思也不得不跟着笑。 “这个决定，早在我和你之前很久很久的时代，就已经制定了。”传授人说，“在上一任记忆传承人以前……”他等着。 “以前、以前、再以前。”乔纳思重复这句耳熟能详的话。 有时候这句话很幽默，有时候却又别具意义、重要非凡。 像现在，这句话就不是个好兆头，他知道，这意味着事情是不可能改变的。 小宝宝加波渐渐长大，并且成功地通过了养育师每个月所做的发展测试。现在他可以坐起来，伸手去抓玩具，还长了六颗牙。爸爸向大家报告：加波在白天的时候也很开心，智力表现正常，只是夜间仍会吵闹，经常发出呜呜咽咽的声音，需要特别注意。 现在加波已经不睡婴儿提篮，改睡婴儿床了。有一天，他洗完澡，抱着小河马，乖乖地躺着。爸爸说：“我额外花了这么多的时间照顾他，希望他们到最后不会解放他。” “也许这样最好。”妈妈说，“我知道你不介意半夜起床陪他，但是我长期睡眠不足，已经快支持不下去了。” “如果加波解放了，还会有其他小宝宝来我们家住吗？” 莉莉问。她跪在婴儿床旁边对着小家伙做鬼脸，小宝宝也回她一个微笑。 乔纳思的妈妈无奈地翻翻眼珠。 “不可能的，”爸爸笑着说，他抚抚莉莉的头发，“很少有小宝宝发育像加波这么不稳定。可能要很久以后才会再发生类似的情形。” “反正，”他叹了一口气，“他们不会这么快下决定。因为最近我们正忙着准备另一桩解放工作。有个孕母怀了双胞胎，下个月就要生了。” “哦，亲爱的，”妈妈摇摇头说，“如果他们是同卵双胞胎，我希望你不会被指定去……” “就是我，名单上的下一位就是我。我必须选择一个来养育，把另一个解放掉。做决定并不难，体重是唯一的考量，体重较轻就解放。” 乔纳思听着，突然想到那座桥，不知道河界外的远方是怎样的世界？在那里，是否有个人正等着接收这个较小的被解放的双胞胎？他在那个地方成长，会知道在这个社区有一个跟他长得几乎一模一样的人吗？ 他突然浮现一个有点愚蠢的希望，希望莱莉莎一就是那位他曾经帮她洗澡的老妇人——在远方等着接收这个小婴儿。他还记得她闪闪发亮的眼睛、轻柔的声音、低声的浅笑。 费欧娜最近才告诉他，莱莉莎在一个很棒的解放庆祝会中离开了。 不过他知道老人不可能再养育孩子。莱莉莎在那里的生活会跟这里的老人一样，非常安详、宁静，她不会想再养育小宝宝，白天得忙着喂食、照顾，半夜还要安抚宝宝的哭闹，多累人啊！ “妈妈！爸爸！”他的脑海里突然出现一个点子，“今天晚上何不把加波的小床放在我房间？我知道怎么喂他、安抚他，这样您和妈妈就可以好好地睡一觉。” 爸爸有点迟疑：“你一向睡得很沉，乔纳思，如果他吵不醒你，怎么办？” 莉莉回答了这个问题：“如果没有人理会加波，”她指出，“他就会吵得更大声，把我们通通吵醒。” 爸爸笑了起来：“你说得没错，莉莉小宝贝。好吧，乔纳思，今天晚上我们就先试试看吧。我不当班，也让妈妈好好睡一觉。” 上半夜加波睡得很沉。乔纳思躺在床上睡不着，不时撑起一只手臂，俯看小床上的加波。小宝宝趴着睡，手臂放松地放在头侧，双眼闭上，呼吸平顺、规律。最后乔纳思也睡着了。 接近午夜的时候，加波翻来覆去的声音把乔纳思吵醒了。小宝宝在被单下扭来扭去，两只手臂猛挥，开始呜呜咽咽哭起来了。 乔纳思起身走过去，轻轻拍打加波的背。有时候，这样就可以哄他再睡。但是这会儿他依然烦躁地扭着身子。 乔纳思继续有节奏地拍打着，同时想起传授人不久前转移给他的快乐航行记忆：天色清朗、微风拂面，他驾着白色帆船，倘佯在清澈碧绿的湖面上，乘着清风徐徐而行。 他没有意识到自己正在转移记忆，但是突然间，记忆的影像逐渐黯淡。原来透过他的手，记忆已传给了小宝宝。加波渐渐安静下来了。乔纳思大吃一惊，赶紧运用意志力把残存的记忆拉回来。他将手从小宝宝的背上移开，静静地伫立在小床边。 他再次回想脑海里的航行记忆。意象还在，但是天空没那么蓝了，船行的速度变慢了，湖水也变得朦朦胧胧，好像罩了一层雾。他沉浸在回忆中好一会儿，最后躺回自己的床上，不再想它。 黎明将近时，小宝宝又哭了。乔纳思走过去，毫不迟疑地将手贴在加波背上，将剩下的湖上时光释放出来。加波再度睡着了。 乔纳思躺下来沉思。不再拥有航行的记忆，让他有些怅然若失。他知道自己可以再向传授人要求，也许是在大海上乘风破浪，因为他拥有大海的记忆，知道大海是怎样的景致。他也知道海上有船只，只是尚未获得相关的影像。 他不知道要不要跟传授人坦白他把一段记忆转移出去了。他自己还没有资格当传授人；加波也没有被遴选为记忆传承人。 他很惊奇自己拥有这样的能力，他决定不告诉任何人。

Chapter 15 Jonas entered the Annex room and realized immediately that it was a day when he would be sent away. The Giver was rigid in his chair, his face in his hands. "I'll come back tomorrow, sir," he said quickly. Then he hesitated. "Unless maybe there's something I can do to help." The Giver looked up at him, his face contorted with suffering. "Please," he gasped, "take some of the pain." Jonas helped him to his chair at the side of the bed. Then he quickly removed his tunic and lay face down. "Put your hands on me," he directed, aware that in such anguish The Giver might need reminding. The hands came, and the pain came with them and through them. Jonas braced himself and entered the memory which was torturing The Giver. He was in a confused, noisy, foul-smelling place. It was daylight, early morning, and the air was thick with smoke that hung, yellow and brown, above the ground. Around him, everywhere, far across the expanse of what seemed to be a field, lay groaning men. A wild-eyed horse, its bridle torn and dangling, trotted frantically through the mounds of men, tossing its head, whinnying in panic. It stumbled, finally, then fell, and did not rise. Jonas heard a voice next to him. "Water," the voice said in a parched, croaking whisper. He turned his head toward the voice and looked into the half-closed eyes of a boy who seemed not much older than himself. Dirt streaked the boy's face and his matted blond hair. He lay sprawled, his gray uniform glistening with wet, fresh blood. The colors of the carnage were grotesquely bright: the crimson wetness on the rough and dusty fabric, the ripped shreds of grass, startlingly green, in the boy's yellow hair. The boy stared at him. "Water," he begged again. When he spoke, a new spurt of blood drenched the coarse cloth across his chest and sleeve. One of Jonas's arms was immobilized with pain, and he could see through his own torn sleeve something that looked like ragged flesh and splintery bone. He tried his remaining arm and felt it move. Slowly he reached to his side, felt the metal container there, and removed its cap, stopping the small motion of his hand now and then to wait for the surging pain to ease. Finally, when the container was open, he extended his arm slowly across the blood-soaked earth, inch by inch, and held it to the lips of the boy. Water trickled into the imploring mouth and down the grimy chin. The boy sighed. His head fell back, his lower jaw dropping as if he had been surprised by something. A dull blankness slid slowly across his eyes. He was silent. But the noise continued all around: the cries of the wounded men, the cries begging for water and for Mother and for death. Horses lying on the ground shrieked, raised their heads, and stabbed randomly toward the sky with their hooves. From the distance, Jonas could hear the thud of cannons. Overwhelmed by pain, he lay there in the fearsome stench for hours, listened to the men and animals die, and learned what warfare meant. Finally, when he knew that he could bear it no longer and would welcome death himself, he opened his eyes and was once again on the bed. The Giver looked away, as if he could not bear to see what he had done to Jonas. "Forgive me," he said. 乔纳思一进人安尼斯，就知道这一天他又要先离开了。 传授人僵直地坐在椅子上，脸埋在手里。 “传授人，我明天再来。”说完后，他又迟疑地说，“说不定我可以帮上一点忙。” 传授人抬头看他，一张脸早已扭曲变形：“求求你，”他喘着气说，“帮我分担一些痛苦。” 乔纳思赶紧扶他坐到床边的椅子上，然后迅速脱掉自己的上衣，趴下来。 “把手放到我身上。”他明白传授人现在痛苦不堪，可能需要人提醒。 手贴上了，痛苦也跟着源源而来。乔纳思打起精神，进入传授人痛苦的记忆中。 他来到一个混乱、嘈杂、空气中飘着阵阵恶臭的地方，天空微露曦光，正是黎明时分，四周弥漫着浓浓的黄褐色烟雾。放眼望去，到处躺着人，呻吟声此起彼落。突然一匹惊慌失措的马，拖着破裂的马鞍，在人堆中乱蹿，不时仰起头，凄厉地嘶叫。最后它绊了一跤，跌倒在地，再也没有爬起来。 乔纳思听见身边有个干涩、沙哑的声音在说：“水……” 他循声望去，看到一个半闭着眼睛、跟自己年纪差不多的男孩儿，脸上和枯涩的金发上到处是泥巴。他瘫软在地上，灰色的制服因为被鲜血浸透而闪闪发亮。 屠杀的色彩竟是如此怪异的鲜明：粗糙、蒙灰的布料上，沾满艳红色的血液，衬得男孩儿金发上掺杂的青草，越发鲜绿。 男孩儿看着他，再次恳求：“水。”他一说话就呕出一股鲜血，浸湿了胸膛上的粗布衣和袖口。 乔纳思的一只手也痛得动弹不得，他从撕裂的袖子上，看见手臂已经皮开肉绽、骨头碎裂。他挪动另一只手，慢慢在身边摸索，终于摸到水壶，正想打开壶盖，阵阵疼痛又传来，他不得不停下来，等到疼痛减缓，再慢慢地旋转盖子。 盖子终于打开了，他伸出手臂，一点一点、缓缓地越过那浸染着鲜血的土壤，送到男孩儿嘴边。水滴入男孩儿发出乞求的嘴里，也流过他污秽的下巴。 男孩儿叹了一口气，头部后仰，下巴松松的往下垂，好像被什么东西吓了一跳。一抹阴沉的空洞慢慢蒙上他的双眼，随后他就完全没了声息。 四周嘈杂依旧：受伤的人不断哀号，有的想喝水，有的哭喊母亲，有的哀求死亡，倒地不起的马儿抬起头，尖声嘶鸣，虚弱地朝空中扬蹄。 远方传来阵阵炮轰声。乔纳思躺在地上，被一阵阵的痛苦淹没。这个时刻，他只能听任人们和动物一个个死亡，体认战争残忍的内涵。 他再也受不了这磨人的痛楚，他宁可一死一了百了。他睁开眼睛，发现自己正躺在床上。 传授人转过头去，好像不忍心看见自己加在乔纳思身上的痛苦：“原谅我，乔纳思！”