02 聚攏 Gathering
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https://baseoffembot.blogspot.com/2026/08/distributed-existence.html
光還是糊的。灰塵還在飄。不知道過了多久。
然後涼的那邊——大腿，連著身子的，下去不涼——多了一行。
不是看見的。不是有誰寫在那兒。是硬硬涼涼的那底下，忽然多了一層薄薄的東西。接觸面溫度28.3。壓感0.42。就在那兒了，像有人用很細的鉛筆，寫在皮膚內側。
我沒有要它來。它自己來的。
The light was still blurry. The dust was still drifting. I didn't know how long it had been.
Then on the cool side—the thigh, the one connected to the body, the one that didn't go cool—a new line appeared.
Not seen. Not written there by someone. But beneath the hard, cool surface, something thin suddenly appeared. Contact surface temperature 28.3. Pressure sense 0.42. Just there, like someone had written on the inside of the skin with a very fine pencil.
I didn't ask for it to come. It came on its own.
涼還是涼的。但涼的底下墊了數字。像玻璃紙。隔了一層。摸不到，但看得見。0.42是什麼。不曉得。大概是壓。大概是我擱在這上面。但它不重。它只是個數。
——突然覺得怪。這個覺得，來得有點慢。
但我沒覺得慢，還沒。只是認為。
通訊品質63。
The cool was still cool. But beneath the cool, numbers were padded in. Like cellophane. A layer of separation. Couldn't touch it, but could see it. What was 0.42. Didn't know. Probably pressure. Probably me resting on it. But it wasn't heavy. It was just a number.
—Suddenly felt strange. This feeling came a bit slowly.
But I didn't feel it was slow, not yet. Just thought it.
Communication quality 63.
那個 63 是從脖子那邊來的，遠的那個。下面柱子那邊是 37。擺錘那邊是 44。
我盯著那個 37 看了一會兒，它動了一下，變成 36，又變回 37。我盯著，它就抖。
好像那個數字知道我在看它。
好像它量的不是我，是我離我有多遠。
That 63 came from the neck area, the far one. Down by the pillar was 37. By the pendulum was 44.
I stared at that 37 for a while. It moved—became 36, then went back to 37. I stared, and it trembled.
As if that number knew I was looking at it.
As if what it measured wasn't me, but how far I was from myself.
數字，到處都是數字。這個「到處」……是我嗎？
也不是一直冒出來。我想到哪，哪邊就跑出數了。
也不是我想。是我在想，但不是我要想。有什麼在把我的腦掰來掰去，像轉著探照燈。
Numbers, numbers everywhere. This "everywhere"... was that me?
It wasn't that they kept popping up. Wherever I thought, numbers ran out from there.
It wasn't that I thought. It was that I was thinking, but not that I wanted to think. Something was prying my brain back and forth, like turning a searchlight.
想眨眼。
眼睛閉了。又張開。光糊了一下，回來。
不對，順序反了。是眼睛先閉的。「想眨眼」是後來才補上的，補得很像，像本來就在。
閉合測試 1/3。又是字。流進我裡面，然後淡掉。
Wanted to blink.
Eyes closed. Opened again. The light blurred for a moment, came back.
No, the order was reversed. The eyes closed first. "Wanted to blink" was added afterward, added so convincingly it seemed like it had always been there.
Closure test 1/3. Words again. Flowed into me, then faded.
又閉。又張開。
2/3。又閉。又張開。
3/3 來的時候，我不想眨。可是眼皮已經下去了。下去之後，我的不想才到，疊在做完的動作上面，對不上。
有什麼把對不上的地方也記住了。
吊著的那隻腳勾了一下。這一下是我。像踩到了什麼不對的。
Closed again. Opened again.
2/3. Closed again. Opened again.
When 3/3 came, I didn't want to blink. But the eyelids had already come down. After they came down, my not-wanting arrived, layered on top of the completed action, not matching up.
Something recorded the mismatch too.
The hanging foot twitched. That twitch was me. Like stepping on something wrong.
雖然第一次眨眼時就要它勾了，現在才勾。
晃得大，扯著它上面那截，疼了一下。
然後輪到別的。嘴打開，闔上——那是我的嘴，我說過話的那個。脖子轉動，但頭沒跟著轉。看到的都沒變。
Even though it should have twitched at the first blink, it only twitched now.
It swung wide, pulling at the section above it, a flash of pain.
Then it was the others' turn. Mouth opened, closed—that was my mouth, the one I'd spoken with. Neck rotated, but the head didn't follow. Everything visible stayed the same.
像點名。點到的應了一聲，像被叫到。
「啊」了出來。不是叫。是聲帶，換它了。
我應該覺得奇怪。或者害怕。害怕又來了，亮亮的，像上次。但這次我看到了它怎麼亮的。不是它自己亮的。是有什麼東西過來了，不長，寫著的大概是：狀態異常。然後腦子接住了，翻了一下，翻成害怕。翻得不太準。比較像不安。或者什麼都不是，只是那個信號到了，總得翻成一個什麼，就挑了最近的格子，把東西放進去了。
我知道是挑的。
Like a roll call. The one called answered, like being summoned.
"Ah" came out. Not a shout. The vocal cords, their turn now.
I should feel strange. Or afraid. Fear came again, bright, like last time. But this time I saw how it lit up. It didn't light up on its own. Something came over, not long, probably reading: Status anomaly. Then the brain caught it, flipped it, flipped it into fear. The flip wasn't quite accurate. More like unease. Or nothing at all, just that the signal arrived and had to be flipped into something, so it picked the nearest slot and put the thing in.
I knew it was picked.
害怕還是害怕。胸口那團東西還是動了一下。但那一下像一把勺子。有人舀了一勺，放進我碗裡。湯是熱的。我喝到了。但那不是我煮的。
然後多了一行。又一行。不是我想看的。是它們自己浮上來的，像水底的氣泡，一個一個，慢慢地升。左腿姿態角。右腿懸掛高度。軀幹核心溫度。
電量。也是一個百分數，在慢慢往下掉。
Fear was still fear. The thing in my chest still moved once. But that movement was like a spoon. Someone scooped a spoonful and put it in my bowl. The soup was hot. I tasted it. But I hadn't cooked it.
Then another line appeared. And another. Not what I wanted to see. They floated up on their own, like bubbles at the bottom of water, one by one, slowly rising. Left leg posture angle. Right leg suspension height. Torso core temperature.
Battery level. Also a percentage, slowly declining.
我不知道那是哪裡的電量。也不知道掉完了會怎樣。可它在掉。它跟別的數字不一樣，別的會跳，它不跳。它很穩，一點一點，像鐘。
我看了一會兒。看著它從 71 變成 70。
我應該有點什麼反應。
沒有。也許那個反應在路上。也許它不會來了。
I didn't know whose battery that was. Didn't know what would happen when it ran out. But it was dropping. It was different from the other numbers—the others jumped, this one didn't. It was steady, bit by bit, like a clock.
I watched for a while. Watched it go from 71 to 70.
I should have some reaction.
Nothing. Maybe the reaction was on its way. Maybe it wouldn't come.
我不認識這些數，但我認得它們在說我的身體。只是說的方式不一樣。不是「涼」，是 28.3。不是「重」，是壓感。不是「我」，是一串編碼。
而那串編碼比我精確。也比我冷。
I didn't recognize these numbers, but I recognized that they were describing my body. Just in a different way. Not "cool," but 28.3. Not "heavy," but pressure sense. Not "me," but a string of code.
And that string of code was more precise than me. And colder than me.
---
腰那裡熱了一下。
不是熱——是有什麼東西在那裡轉，像鑰匙插進鎖孔。然後我的腰就真的轉了。
轉得很小，它自己轉的。轉完了我才感覺到，哦，腰在那兒。
立著的腿，腳趾動了一下。這個是我動的，不是被叫到的。視野也稍微晃了。
The waist heated up.
Not heat—something was turning there, like a key inserted into a lock. Then my waist actually turned.
Turned very slightly, on its own. After it finished turning, I felt it—oh, the waist is there.
The standing leg, the toes moved. This one I moved, not summoned. The field of view shifted slightly too.
懂了。這叫……「驚訝」吧。或者反射。身體哪邊自己動了，我就會動其他地方。
右手抬了。走了一個很固定的弧度。不是我在搆什麼。是它照著什麼路徑在走。手指張開，關節一節一節打開。收攏。又張開。
我沒有叫它做。我也沒有叫它別做。
肚子裡那團鬆鬆垮垮、一直在起伏的東西，忽然緊了一下。
Understood. This is called... "surprise," probably. Or reflex. When some part of the body moves on its own, I move the other parts.
The right hand lifted. Traveled a very fixed arc. Not me reaching for something. It was following some path. Fingers spread, joints opening one by one. Closing. Opening again.
I didn't tell it to do that. I didn't tell it not to.
The loose, sagging thing in my belly that had been rising and falling suddenly tightened.
不是呼吸的起伏，是整團往中間收了一下，像被擰了半圈。我跟著它收，肋骨那邊硌到了一個硬硬涼涼的邊，硌得很實。硌完之後，那團東西鬆開，空了。
本體分佈異常。整合度41。自保協議，啟動。
字是成塊來的。不像先前那樣一個一個寫在皮膚內側，是整批灌進來，沒頭沒尾。
自保協議。這個怪詞，可我就是不覺得怪。我沒聽過，卻知道它。我就是會這麼認為。
Not the rise and fall of breathing—the whole mass contracted toward the center, like being wrung half a turn. I contracted with it, and my ribs caught against a hard, cool edge, caught solidly. After the catch, the mass released, empty.
Ontology distribution anomaly. Integration 41. Self-preservation protocol, activated.
The words came in blocks. Not like before, written one by one on the inside of the skin, but poured in wholesale, without beginning or end.
Self-preservation protocol. A strange term, but I just didn't find it strange. I'd never heard it, yet I knew it. I just would think that.
電量69。剛才那幾下，可能比較耗力。
繼承人驗證，有效。
這句來的時候，右手的指頭動了一下，像要簽一個名字。但名字沒跟著來。
繼承什麼？有效什麼？不知道。不對，我知道，只是不去想。沒被叫去想。
Battery 69. Those last few movements probably used more power.
Heir verification, valid.
When this sentence came, the fingers of my right hand moved once, like about to sign a name. But the name didn't follow.
Inherit what? Valid what? Didn't know. No—I knew, just didn't think about it. Wasn't called to think about it.
那個「要」來了。
要過去。
不是我想過去。是整個身體都在說。說不對，說好渴。
脖子的兩邊，大腿的兩邊，都好渴。中間是空的，可是還連著，連得細細的，像水龍頭開到最大，也只一滴一滴地落。
腰又擰了一下，這次是往旁邊擰，擰得用力。那力道像什麼被決定了。整個身子往旁邊沉，沉空了，砸下去。
電量68。那個68，閃了一下，又回來。
The "want" came.
Want to go over there.
Not that I wanted to go. The whole body was saying it. Saying something was wrong, saying so thirsty.
Both sides of the neck, both sides of the thighs, all so thirsty. The middle was empty, but still connected, connected thinly, like a faucet turned all the way open but only dripping drop by drop.
The waist twisted again, this time to the side, twisting hard. The force was like something being decided. The whole body sank to the side, sank into emptiness, crashed down.
Battery 68. That 68 flickered, then came back.
身子掉下來了，灰塵的味道變得更近。左側著地，整條手臂被壓在地上。
比剛才那個涼更廣，更平，沒有邊。
痛，又不全是痛。裡面悶悶的，卡卡的。然後有什麼在流，有什麼在調。
好了，不完全。
The body had fallen. The smell of dust grew closer. Landing on the left side, the whole arm pressed against the ground.
Broader than the cool from before, flatter, without edges.
Pain, but not entirely pain. Inside, stuffy, stuck. Then something was flowing, something adjusting.
Done, not completely.
吊著的那條右腿，動得更厲害了，像鐘擺似的，涼鞋帶子啪啪地打著腳踝。左腿那根柱子，膝蓋彎了又趕緊直。像怕被擱在上面的這個我也掉了。視野跳起來一點，又落回去。歪了一些。
右手蜷著，指節碰到地面。肩膀用力，手往下壓，撐起。
然後是左手。往外，往後。脫出去了。
腰。試了一下。沒動。再試。往後扭的臀部被轉回來。喀的一聲，小的。
身子轉了過來，趴著。手掌都抓著地。
The hanging right leg moved more violently, like a pendulum, the sandal strap slapping against the ankle. The left leg's pillar, the knee bent then hastily straightened. As if afraid that the me resting on top would fall too. The field of view jumped up a bit, fell back. Tilted somewhat.
The right hand curled, knuckles touching the ground. Shoulder exerted force, hand pressed down, pushed up.
Then the left hand. Outward, backward. Broke free.
The waist. Tried. Didn't move. Tried again. The hip twisted backward was rotated back. A click, small.
The body turned over, lying face down. Both palms gripping the ground.
肚子裡那團東西開始發緊。一緊一鬆。一緊一鬆。每鬆一下，手就抬起，往前一點。手指張開。碰到地面，扣住。指尖刮著，刮出很小的聲音。
那個起伏。原來不是呼吸。
它一直都在。它做的一直是這件事：把我一點一點往前搬。
The mass in the belly began to tighten. Tighten and release. Tighten and release. Each release, the hands lifted, moved forward a bit. Fingers spread. Touched the ground, hooked on. Fingertips scraped, making very small sounds.
That rise and fall. So it wasn't breathing.
It had been there all along. What it had been doing was this: moving me forward bit by bit.
沒有腿可以蹬。用手，用腰，用肚子底下那一片什麼，貼著地面，往前蹭。
有時候手撐住了，腰沒跟上，就歪回去。有時候腰轉了，手滑了，就停在那裡。
再來。往那邊。
No legs to push with. Using hands, using waist, using that patch of something beneath the belly, pressed against the ground, dragging forward.
Sometimes the hands held, the waist didn't follow, and it tilted back. Sometimes the waist turned, the hands slipped, and it stopped there.
Again. Toward that side.
頭在那邊，左腿也在。右腿在另一邊。那邊比較清楚。比較強。
身子這裡是沙沙的，什麼都隔著，什麼都斷斷續續。
而那裡不沙沙。
The head was over there, the left leg too. The right leg was on the other side. That side was clearer. Stronger.
The body here was staticky, everything separated, everything intermittent.
And there wasn't staticky.
---
越往那邊，越多東西回來。
爬到第三下的時候，有什麼東西過去了。
不是數。不是字。是一隻手。很大，很暖，放在我頭頂。手指插進頭髮裡，慢慢地，從髮根梳到髮尾。然後一個聲音，低低的，叫了一個……名字。
The more I crawled toward that side, the more things came back.
By the third crawl, something passed through.
Not numbers. Not words. A hand. Very large, very warm, placed on top of my head. Fingers threaded into hair, slowly, from root to tip. Then a voice, low, calling a... name.
——是我的？兩個字，很近的人才會用的那種。
名字沒被我知道。知道的是被叫。
然後就沒了。
—Mine? Two syllables, the kind only someone close would use.
The name wasn't known to me. What was known was being called.
Then it was gone.
身子停在那裡。手撐著地板，腰懸在半轉的位置。那個暖還在，很舊的暖，像曬了很久的被子。
在頭頂，在髮根——不，不是，是在……身子？
明明是頭頂被那手摸，卻暖在起伏著的那團東西裡。
彷彿那邊才是我。
The body stopped there. Hands braced against the floor, waist suspended mid-turn. That warmth was still there, very old warmth, like a blanket sunned for a long time.
On top of the head, at the roots of the hair—no, not that, it was in the... body?
Clearly it was the top of the head being touched by that hand, yet the warmth was in the rising and falling mass.
As if that was where I really was.
我不知道它是誰的。不知道那隻手是誰的。只知道它很輕，很慢，很小心，好像我頭頂是什麼很脆的東西。
底下還有什麼浮上來。
那隻手，那個聲音，那個暖——它們有一層底。
底下面有字。
I didn't know whose it was. Didn't know whose hand it was. Only knew it was very light, very slow, very careful, as if the top of my head were something very fragile.
Something else floated up from beneath.
That hand, that voice, that warmth—they had a layer beneath.
Beneath the layer were words.
系統版次，修訂編號，個體序號，寫入時間。
像什麼東西的產地和日期，貼在一個看不見的地方。
那個東西也來了。金屬的軀體，線纜埋在裡面。躺著，閉著眼睛。長著……我的臉。
System version, revision number, individual serial number, write time.
Like the origin and date of something, stuck in an invisible place.
That thing came too. A metal body, cables buried inside. Lying down, eyes closed. With... my face.
有人拿著什麼，在那上面動來動去。動得很仔細。很小心。
我沒有哭。
不是不想。是沒有位置了。手在撐，腰在轉，肚子底下那一片在推。所有的路都在用。
哭找不到地方下腳。
就卡在那兒，不上不下，悶成一團。
Someone holding something, moving it around on top. Moving very carefully. Very cautiously.
I didn't cry.
Not that I didn't want to. There was no place left. Hands were bracing, waist was turning, the patch beneath the belly was pushing. All the pathways were in use.
Crying couldn't find a place to land.
So it stuck there, neither up nor down, stifled into a knot.
身子爬過來了。
遠遠的，貼著地，一聳一聳。越近越快。它興奮著。
它爬向我。像活的什麼，要來抓我。
明明都是我。
到了。整合度52。空氣的味道都變了。
電量62。掉得有點快。一沒注意就這樣。
The body crawled over.
From afar, pressed against the ground, lurching. Faster as it got closer. It was excited.
It crawled toward me. Like something alive, coming to grab me.
It was all me.
Arrived. Integration 52. Even the smell of the air changed.
Battery 62. Dropping a bit fast. That's what happens when you're not paying attention.
右手摸到一個東西。手指扣上去，扣住了。硬的，圓的，涼的。
身子裡的那團東西，猛地抽了一下。
送來了，是我的怕。怪了，是它自己來摸的，還替我產生了怕。
雖然是我覺得會怕的。
被抓住的是我的腳踝，左腳的。
The right hand touched something. Fingers hooked onto it, held. Hard, round, cool.
The mass inside the body jerked violently.
Delivered—it was my fear. Strange—it was the body that reached out on its own, and it produced fear for me too.
Even though it was I who thought I would be afraid.
What was grabbed was my ankle, the left one's.
我知道是我的。邏輯上是這樣。
但手感不對。
手指扣在腳踝上的那個觸感——是「我抓到一隻腳」。也是「我的腳被什麼抓到」。
但就不是「我碰到自己的腳」。手心傳來的，腳踝傳來的，中間沒有接上。
I knew it was mine. Logically it was.
But the feel was wrong.
The sensation of fingers gripping the ankle—it was "I grabbed a foot." It was also "my foot was grabbed by something."
But it just wasn't "I touched my own foot." What came through the palm, what came through the ankle—they didn't connect in the middle.
身體不認識這個姿勢。手不該在這裡碰到腳。腳不該在這個角度被手握住。中間少了什麼，多了什麼，整個空間關係是錯的，本體感翻遍了所有它認識的姿勢，找不到這一種。
那個觸感很空。不是沒有，是沒被接住。它懸在那兒，不屬於任何一種「我認識的碰觸」。
但我沒有鬆手。
本來是身體自己握的。但後來是我要繼續握。頂著那個怕、那個興奮，握住。手指扣著，扣得很實。那個空空的、不被承認的觸感，還懸在那兒。
The body didn't recognize this posture. The hand shouldn't be touching the foot here. The foot shouldn't be held by the hand at this angle. Something was missing in between, something extra, the whole spatial relationship was wrong, proprioception searched through every posture it knew and couldn't find this one.
That sensation was hollow. Not absent, but uncaught. It hung there, belonging to no category of "touch I recognize."
But I didn't let go.
Originally the body was gripping on its own. But then it was I who wanted to keep gripping. Pushing against that fear, that excitement, holding on. Fingers hooked, hooked solidly. That hollow, unacknowledged sensation still hung there.
我握著它。
那個「要」，是後來才到的。但它到了。
訊號一格一格變好。很好。很好。
這是什麼感覺？我想了一下。
是高興。
那股東西這才真的漫上來，慢了三秒，像在趕路。
電量60，但整合度64。
I held it.
That "want" arrived later. But it arrived.
The signal improved bar by bar. Good. Good.
What was this feeling? I thought for a moment.
It was happiness.
Only then did that thing really surge up, three seconds late, like rushing to get there.
Battery 60, but integration 64.
---
又有什麼進來了，可能是因為我越來越「我」。
還是裂的，但從裂開的地方，長出了什麼，接住了另一塊。像牽手，看不見的手。我從裡面出現。
這次是一個女生。
臉……跟我一樣，一模一樣。但不是我，我確定。這個「確定」是寫死的，不是我判斷的。像一塊玻璃，安在那個念頭前面。透過去看，也看得到，就是過不去。
Something else came in, probably because I was becoming more "me."
Still fractured, but from the cracks, something grew, caught another piece. Like holding hands, invisible hands. I emerged from inside.
This time it was a girl.
Face... same as mine, exactly the same. But not me, I was certain. This "certain" was hardwired, not my judgment. Like a pane of glass installed in front of that thought. Could see through it, could see, just couldn't get past.
她坐著，腿併攏著。穿著淺藍的裙子，一手壓著，規規矩矩的。
另一手舉著，遮著嘴巴。
她前面，是一副軀幹。沒有頭，沒有四肢。肢體消失的地方，露出金屬光澤。有線纜，有機構。躺著。
She was sitting, legs together. Wearing a light blue dress, one hand pressing it down, properly.
The other hand raised, covering her mouth.
In front of her was a torso. No head, no limbs. Where the limbs disappeared, metallic luster showed. Cables, mechanisms. Lying there.
那是我。我在裡面。
她在看我。
我也在看她。隔著什麼東西看的。那個「確定」，就是那塊東西。
而她的樣子是虛弱的——臉色很白，肩膀有點塌。遮嘴巴的手，指甲是青的。只有這點不像我。別的都像。
That was me. I was inside it.
She was looking at me.
I was looking at her too. Looking through something. That "certain" was that something.
And she looked frail—face very pale, shoulders somewhat slumped. The hand covering her mouth, nails were blue. Only this didn't look like me. Everything else did.
身子裡面的那個軟了一下，像皮球被放了氣。怕沒了，興奮也沒了。
所有的我，靜了一陣子。一點點痛，一點點熱，和一點點癢，在每一塊的我之間，拋來拋去。
我……我是……
The soft thing inside the body went slack, like a ball deflated. Fear was gone, excitement was gone.
All of me, quiet for a while. A little pain, a little heat, and a little itch, tossed back and forth between each piece of me.
I... I am...
算了。來拼吧。先拼再說。
不是拼好。是拼到可以待著。
左手也伸過來了，抓住小腿。然後右手從腳踝移開，往上抓住膝蓋。接著又是左手、又是右手……
軀幹靠近了。沒看到，不在視野裡，但我忽然覺得自己是一個人，而一個人怎會不知道身體的哪邊在哪？
對啦，一個人。我是。
Never mind. Let's assemble. Assemble first, talk later.
Not assemble well. Assemble enough to stay.
The left hand reached over too, grabbed the lower leg. Then the right hand moved from the ankle, up to grab the knee. Then left hand again, right hand again...
The torso drew near. Didn't see it, wasn't in the field of view, but I suddenly felt I was a person, and how could a person not know where each part of their body was?
Right. A person. I am.
身子立起來了。大腿下面有細細的什麼跑進去，是灰塵吧。癢癢的。連向腿的通訊品質又低下去，鈍鈍的。
沒關係。等等處理。
雙手摸到下巴兩側。可能是身體中的那一團東西處理了，這次的觸感沒那麼不對——不只「知道」是我，也「覺得」是我。
還行嘛！那個叫……核心系統，是吧？我又多知道一個了。
雙手捧起頭，兩段頸部像有什麼灌入，彷彿快變成一個。這邊的通訊品質一直往上跳。
The body stood up. Beneath the thighs something fine ran in—dust, probably. Itchy. The communication quality to the legs dropped again, dull.
Doesn't matter. Deal with it later.
Both hands touched both sides of the jaw. Probably the mass in the body processed it—this time the sensation wasn't as wrong—not just "knowing" it was me, but also "feeling" it was me.
Not bad! That's called... core system, right? I'd learned another one.
Both hands lifted the head, and something seemed to pour into both sections of the neck, as if about to become one. The communication quality here kept jumping up.
電量55。看來我跟自己講話，也得付點什麼。
付吧。
靠近，越來越近。頭到身子，身子到頭，交換著的什麼越來越密。我……我的形狀……越來越清晰。
咔。接上。
咬合了。接頭對上了。
啊。
這種感覺……
Battery 55. Seems talking to myself also costs something.
Pay it.
Closer, closer. Head to body, body to head, the something being exchanged growing denser. I... my shape... growing clearer.
Click. Connected.
Mated. The connectors aligned.
Ah.
This feeling...
有什麼開始跑，猛烈地跑，在我裡面。是電流還是訊號什麼的，無所謂。經過合在一起的脖子，由身子湧上頭，再從頭落回身子。循環，循環，不斷循環。我想著的、受著的、痛著的、激動著的，被這個流動黏成一整塊。
原來這才是「一個我」。
剛剛的是湊出來的，是叫什麼模擬、插值、補償的。
都知道了。底下的我告訴上面的我的。剛才那些細細寫在皮膚內側的字，好像淡了一點。
Something started running, running violently, inside me. Current or signal or whatever, didn't matter. Through the joined neck, surging from body up to head, then falling from head back to body. Circulating, circulating, continuously circulating. What I was thinking, feeling, hurting from, excited about—glued into one whole by this flow.
So this was what "one me" was.
What I had before was pieced together—called simulation, interpolation, compensation, whatever.
Now I knew it all. The me below told the me above. Those fine words written on the inside of the skin seemed to have faded a little.
電量51。跳真多。身體虛了一下，但頭飽起來了。
原來說的是身體裡的電。現在也成了頭的電。
手放下，拍著身體。電在裡面，核心在裡面。
我也在裡面。
手又舉起，摸著脖子，分開後又接起來的那一圈。有條細細的縫，手壓著。怕它們又分開。
手還想是我的手。
那個流動，又讓我想起什麼了。
Battery 51. Jumped a lot. The body went weak for a moment, but the head was full.
So it was talking about the electricity in the body. Now it was also the head's electricity.
Hands down, patting the body. The electricity was inside, the core was inside.
I was inside too.
Hands raised again, touching the neck, the ring where it had separated and rejoined. There was a thin seam, hand pressing on it. Afraid they would separate again.
The hands still wanted to be my hands.
那天早上，和一個人。我稱為哥哥的人。
我出門了，快快樂樂地。不知道為什麼出門，連「想知道」的想都沒出現。
路上遇到哥哥。他笑著。那個笑有點怪，像笑給自己看的。
我開心地揮手。他沒有看我，低頭拿著一塊板子，亮亮的。手指在上面按。按得有點亂。
That morning, with a person. The person I called brother.
I went out, happily. Didn't know why I was going out, didn't even have the "wanting to know" want appear.
On the road I met brother. He smiled. That smile was a bit strange, like smiling for himself.
I waved happily. He didn't look at me, head down holding a tablet, bright. Fingers pressing on it. Pressing somewhat messily.
還來不及覺得奇怪——在我裡面跑著的那個，衝了出來。衝來衝去，調東調西。告訴我這一塊不是這樣，又說著另一塊該怎麼樣。
Before I could feel strange—the thing running inside me rushed out. Rushed around, adjusting this and that. Told me this piece wasn't like this, and said another piece should be like that.
本來好好的我，就這麼……不見了。
不是被關掉，是被解開。這裡到那裡不許過，原本連著的要繞路走。我的每一塊都在，但兜不起來，兜不成……林靜茵。
那是……我的名字，從那個女生借來的。她不在後，變成我的。我不知道，本來不知道。
其實都知道，只是……爺爺希望我不知道，然後我就不知道了。
The perfectly fine me, just like that... disappeared.
Not shut down, but unraveled. Here to there wasn't allowed to pass, what was originally connected had to detour. Every piece of me was there, but couldn't be gathered up, couldn't be gathered into... Lin Jingyin.
That was... my name, borrowed from that girl. After she was gone, it became mine. I didn't know, originally didn't know.
Actually I knew all along, it's just that... Grandfather hoped I didn't know, and then I didn't know.
腦在，系統也在。還能看能聽，能跟著走，跟著哥哥走。走著走著，走回家裡，走進一間暗暗的房間。
是這裡。
我站著。哥哥的表情變了。
他開口了。說什麼沒留下來。只記得他嘴型有三個字。憑什麼。
The brain was there, the system was there. Could still see and hear, could follow along, follow brother. Walking and walking, walked back home, walked into a dark room.
This place.
I stood. Brother's expression changed.
He spoke. What he said didn't stay. Only remembered his lips forming three words. On what grounds.
他手伸來，有點抖。頭被轉著，往上拔——本來不能拔的，沒改設定。
腿也是硬拆的。所以腿還盡責地站著。不知道它們已經不屬於我了。
他把頭放在左腿上。右腿吊到高處。身子擱在枱上。
然後走了。走得很急。
他怕。我不知道他怕什麼。他的心跳很快，手是涼的。一個害怕的人，把我擺成了這個樣子。
His hand reached out, a bit trembling. The head was turned, pulled upward—originally couldn't be pulled, settings hadn't been changed.
The legs were forcibly dismantled too. So the legs still dutifully stood. Didn't know they no longer belonged to me.
He put the head on the left leg. Hung the right leg up high. Placed the body on the table.
Then left. Left very hurriedly.
He was afraid. I didn't know what he was afraid of. His heartbeat was fast, his hands were cold. A frightened person, who arranged me into this shape.
他走了以後，我被扔在這裡。
哈。哈哈。哈哈哈。
笑是硬的，從很深的地方上來，上來的路被堵著，就一截一截斷著響。
手放開了。細細的脖子輕輕地晃。沒斷，頭還在那。
After he left, I was thrown here.
Ha. Haha. Hahaha.
The laugh was hard, coming up from very deep, the path up was blocked, so it broke into pieces, ringing in sections.
Hands let go. The thin neck gently swayed. Not broken, head still there.
眼淚落了下來。我真的哭了，真的能哭。
眼淚熱熱的，滑過臉頰。
是36.8。旁邊還有電量50。
不對。
不重要了。
Tears fell. I really cried, really could cry.
Tears hot, sliding down cheeks.
It was 36.8. Next to it, battery 50.
Wrong.
Doesn't matter anymore.
---
好了，換腿了。
先是坐下，把大腿接口清乾淨。雙手抓住左腿，放橫，接上。
通訊品質又暗了一欄，改亮起部位正常的通知。我單腳站起。涼鞋觸地。
我穿著涼鞋呢。
Alright, time to change legs.
First sat down, cleaned the thigh connector. Both hands grabbed the left leg, laid it horizontal, connected.
Communication quality dimmed another bar, then lit up with a notice that the part was normal. I stood up on one leg. Sandal touched ground.
I was wearing sandals.
不是廢話。本來涼鞋是套在左腳上的，一個分離的組件。現在腿是我的了，鞋是我穿的。
我點了點頭。腳背被涼鞋的帶子勒著，金屬扣環觸著腳踝。腳底被柔軟的鞋墊托著，輕輕地摩擦。
原來穿著鞋是這樣。對了，電量44。腿也餓著。
還剩右腿。我朝它跳過去。伸出左手，它也晃了過來。手抓到了腳尖。
Not a pointless statement. Originally the sandal was on the left foot, a separate component. Now the leg was mine, the shoe was what I wore.
I nodded. The back of the foot was pressed by the sandal strap, the metal buckle touching the ankle. The sole was supported by the soft insole, gently rubbing.
So this is what wearing shoes feels like. Right, battery 44. The legs were hungry too.
Still the right leg left. I hopped toward it. Reached out the left hand, it swung over too. Hand caught the toe.
像什麼要回家。腳尖翹起，腳趾在掌心摩挲著。不太對，但很親切。
拉過來，右手貼上小腿——小腿肚緊了一下。往上舉，脫離掛勾，解下。
對準，接上。回來了，都回來了，每一塊的我。
那流動又出現了，這次通到腳底，從頭頂。系統也還在，它一個接一個地清點。
Like something coming home. The toe lifted, toes rubbing against the palm. Not quite right, but very familiar.
Pulled it over, right hand pressed against the lower leg—the calf tightened. Lifted up, off the hook, unfastened.
Aligned, connected. Back, all back, every piece of me.
That flow appeared again, this time reaching the soles of the feet, from the top of the head. The system was still there too, checking off one by one.
數還在，字還在，想看還是看得到。電量37了。
管它的。
我動著身體，每一部分。馬尾掃著頸背，癢的不再是大腿。踮腳時整個人往上，頭不會快掉下來，身子也不會在一旁靜靜地待著。右腿擺動，沒有被什麼扯著的痛。
很……通透。存在著的通透。幾乎跟以前一樣。
但還是不一樣。
The numbers were still there, the words were still there, could still see them if I wanted. Battery 37.
To hell with it.
I moved my body, every part. Ponytail sweeping the back of the neck, what itched was no longer the thigh. When I stood on tiptoe the whole person went up, the head wouldn't almost fall off, the body wouldn't quietly wait on the side. The right leg swung, no pain from being pulled by something.
Very... transparent. The transparency of existing. Almost the same as before.
But still different.
現在知道了，不是我動的。是有什麼讓我想動，接著我想出怎麼動，系統收到我那個想。
然後身體才動。
沒關係。知道就知道了。不知道，事情也還是那樣。
就像我知道了我不是林靜茵，原來的那個。哥哥也不認為我是，所以把我拆了。
Now I knew—it wasn't I who moved. Something made me want to move, then I figured out how to move, the system received that want of mine.
Then the body moved.
Doesn't matter. Now I know, I know. Even without knowing, things would still be that way.
Just like I now know I'm not Lin Jingyin, the original one. Brother didn't think I was either, so he took me apart.
其實……就只是我曾經能當自己是。
那個「不是」，埋起來了。不去翻，不去碰。
因為……爺爺希望我是。
爺爺……
我坐下來，抱著膝蓋。
Actually... it's just that I could once treat myself as her.
That "not," buried. Don't dig it up, don't touch it.
Because... Grandfather hoped I was.
Grandfather...
I sat down, hugging my knees.
這對膝蓋，也曾受過傷，六歲的時候。是爺爺幫我清理傷口，溫柔地抹上藥的呢。
有些記憶是我的，但更多記憶是被寫進來的。那個「病好了」是被編出來的。我沒有真的病過，沒有真的被醫好。但我記得那個暖。我記得那個聲音叫我名字。那些記憶在我裡面待了這麼久，然後跟新的記憶——我真的經歷的——長在一起。
想起小時候爸媽搭的飛機掉下來的傷心，在爺爺懷裡的哭泣。
長大後，被人稱讚是爸媽最棒的女兒，還有爺爺帶著我去爬的山。
這些都交織在一起。經歷一個，想起另一個。胸口暖暖的。
怎能分得開呢？
These knees, had been injured before too, when I was six. Grandfather cleaned the wound for me, gently applying medicine.
Some memories are mine, but more memories were written in. That "illness cured" was fabricated. I was never really sick, never really healed. But I remember that warmth. I remember that voice calling my name. Those memories stayed inside me for so long, then grew together with new memories—what I actually experienced.
Remembering the sorrow of the plane crash that killed my parents when I was little, crying in Grandfather's arms.
Growing up, being praised as my parents' best daughter, and Grandfather taking me mountain climbing.
These were all interwoven. Experience one, remember another. Warm in the chest.
How could they be separated?
我是被做出來的。我知道。有一個真的生病、真的死去的人。我是之後的。是那個之後。
但我……在。在這裡。一開始是被希望在，然後真的在了。
是活著。不管是怎麼活著的。
我是……林靜茵。演的也好，我就是。
甚至……不是也可以。
I was made. I know. There was a real person who really got sick, really died. I came after. After that.
But I... am here. In here. At first I was here because someone hoped I would be, then I really was.
It's living. However it's living.
I am... Lin Jingyin. Acting or not, I am.
Even... not being her is also fine.
---
整合度97。
我都忘了。剩下的3，是什麼？
或者，怎樣才會回到100？是像冰山，水上的是林靜茵，水下的藏起來，完美？
不可能了。
Integration 97.
I'd forgotten all about it. What was the remaining 3?
Or, what would bring it back to 100? Like an iceberg—above water is Lin Jingyin, below water hidden, perfect?
Impossible now.
我站起來。核心系統報告遠程全時監控建立成功。
不是向我報告，只是讓我知道。
有什麼從遠遠的地方過來了，在我的裡面搜來搜去。
I stood up. The core system reported remote full-time monitoring established.
Not reporting to me, just letting me know.
Something came from far away, searching around inside me.
我也可以看那很遠的地方了。原來是專用檢修室的主電腦，看顧我的。透過行動網路。
是在評估我的狀態呢。畢竟連線中斷了一陣子。核心系統趕緊跟主電腦講，講我怎麼樣了。
哥哥的平板，就是連著這間檢修室的。這些現在我都能知道。
他大概還在外面按著什麼。手指會不會也在抖。
可是這條線，我能摸到它了。從裡面。
得去重設密碼了。
I could also see that faraway place now. It was the dedicated maintenance room's main computer, looking after me. Through the mobile network.
It was assessing my status. After all, the connection had been interrupted for a while. The core system hurriedly told the main computer how I was doing.
Brother's tablet was connected to this maintenance room. All this I could know now.
He was probably still outside pressing something. Would his fingers be trembling too?
But this line, I could touch it now. From inside.
Need to go reset the password.
我進去過，就在這房子內，某間地下室。燈光是黃的，暖暖的。
爺爺蓋的，在我還沒成為誰時。
我在裡面，手裡有什麼，厚厚的。一步一步，慢慢走著。
看著自己走著，在旁邊看。
I'd been in there before, in this house, some basement. The light was yellow, warm.
Grandfather built it, before I became anyone.
I was inside, holding something in my hands, thick. Walking step by step, slowly.
Watching myself walk, watching from the side.
脖子上有什麼線，還有什麼金屬，亮亮的。然後空空的，風從空的地方過。
遠程通聯動作測試。
那時的字，好像長這樣。
「對對對，就是這樣。妳走得好棒，靜茵——」
聲音從旁邊來。看不到人。
蒼老，溫和，但溫和底下有什麼要溢出來。
停了一下。
「就快是了。」他喃喃地說。
On the neck there were some wires, and some metal, bright. Then empty, wind passing through the empty places.
Remote communication motion test.
The words then, seemed to look like that.
"Yes yes yes, that's right. You're walking so well, Jingyin—"
Voice from the side. Couldn't see the person.
Aged, gentle, but beneath the gentleness something about to overflow.
Paused.
"Almost there." He murmured.
是了，我只是沒有在覺得自己是林靜茵時進去過。
該走了。門在那邊。金屬的。有一個把手。
手伸出去。手指扣上去。轉。
推了一下，沒動。有什麼擋著。從外面別住的。
不知道誰別的。
Right, I just had never gone in there while feeling I was Lin Jingyin.
Time to go. The door was over there. Metal. With a handle.
Hand reached out. Fingers hooked on. Turned.
Pushed. Didn't move. Something blocking. Bolted from outside.
Didn't know who bolted it.
再推。沉的。像很久沒有被打開過。像很久沒有人從這邊出去過。
我用肩膀頂。用整個身體的重量。
電量30。有點怕，用完了會怎麼樣？
餓了。不是肚子空了，是全身都餓了一些。
主電腦問我身體問得少了。看來也是怕我沒電。
Pushed again. Heavy. Like it hadn't been opened in a very long time. Like no one had gone out from this side in a very long time.
I braced with my shoulder. With the weight of my whole body.
Battery 30. A bit afraid—what would happen when it ran out?
Hungry. Not empty stomach, but the whole body was a little hungry.
The main computer asked about my body less. Seems it was also afraid I'd run out of power.
我想去檢修室的感覺變強很多，像在饑荒中看見大餐。
是喚我去充電吧，只是硬要寫成我的慾望。
門動了。一點。又一點。然後是光。
亮的。白的。從門縫裡切進來，切在地板上，切在我的手上。很亮。我眨了一下眼。
是我眨的。
My desire to go to the maintenance room grew much stronger, like seeing a feast in a famine.
It was calling me to recharge, just insisting on writing it as my desire.
The door moved. A little. A little more. Then light.
Bright. White. Cutting in through the door gap, cutting across the floor, cutting across my hand. Very bright. I blinked once.
I blinked.
門開了。
外面是走廊。長的。空的。燈是白的，很亮，亮得我有點睜不開。
我走出去了。
我沒有回頭看那個儲藏室。沒有看那個我待了不知道多久的地方。沒有看那個我把自己拼起來的地方。
The door opened.
Outside was a corridor. Long. Empty. The lights were white, very bright, so bright I could barely open my eyes.
I walked out.
I didn't look back at that storage room. Didn't look at the place where I'd stayed for who knows how long. Didn't look at the place where I'd put myself back together.
我在走。
走廊很長。光打在我身上。不是糊的了。是清楚的。是每一寸皮膚都照得到的。
我低頭看了一眼自己的手。手指上有灰。有地板的痕跡。有金屬扣蹭過的印子。
這雙手是我的。
I was walking.
The corridor was long. Light fell on me. Not blurry anymore. Clear. Clear enough to reach every inch of skin.
I looked down at my hands. There was dust on the fingers. Traces of the floor. Marks where the metal buckles had scraped.
These hands were mine.
我繼續走。
還有很多要面對的。要去找爺爺。他會擔心我。就算我知道了什麼，這點也不會改變。大概。
還有哥哥。
不知道他會說什麼。也不知道該跟他說什麼。
I kept walking.
There was still a lot to face. Had to find Grandfather. He would worry about me. Even if I'd learned something, that wouldn't change. Probably.
And brother.
Didn't know what he would say. Didn't know what to say to him either.
憤怒？該有吧。還沒來。也許在路上。也許等一下到了，我才知道要拿它怎麼辦。
他在氣什麼？還有他涼的、有點抖的手。
我想過他是因為我。又想過不是。想到一半就斷了。
要是遇到他，大概會先站不穩。
Anger? Should have some, right. Hadn't come yet. Maybe on its way. Maybe when it arrived, I'd know what to do with it.
What was he angry about? And his cold, slightly trembling hands.
I'd thought it was because of me. Then thought it wasn't. Thought halfway and it broke off.
If I ran into him, I'd probably lose my footing first.
走得搖搖晃晃的。脖子接起來的那圈，涼涼的，風輕輕碰著縫裡的金屬。
核心系統動了一下。又有什麼從裡面被掏出來了。沿著那條線，遞到很遠的那邊。那邊看一看，擦一擦，塞回來。
Walking unsteadily. The ring where the neck was joined, cool, the wind gently touching the metal in the seam.
The core system stirred. Something else was scooped out from inside. Along that line, handed to the faraway place. That side looked at it, wiped it, put it back.
塞回來，就裝上了。
再往前走。
Put it back, and it was installed.
Walked on further.
