选登 | 科幻小说 | 北京折叠（二）
It was a quarter to six. He had to get going, now.
5:45。他必须马上走了。
Peng Li sighed again. He could see it was useless to try to dissuade Lao Dao. He was old enough to feel lazy and tired of everything, but he remembered how he had felt as a younger man and he would have made the same choice as Lao Dao. Back then, he didn’t care about going to prison. What was the big deal? You lost a few months and got beaten up a few times, but the money made it worthwhile. As long as you refused to divulge the source of the money no matter how much you suffered, you could survive it. The Security Bureau’s citation was nothing more than routine enforcement.
彭蠡又叹口气，知道劝也没用。他已经上了年纪，对事懒散倦怠了，但他明白，自己在五十岁前也会和老刀一样。那时他不在乎坐牢之类的事。不过是熬几个月出来，挨两顿打，但挣的钱是实实在在的。只要抵死不说钱的下落，最后总能过去。秩序局的条子也不过就是例行公事。
Peng Li took Lao Dao to his back window and pointed at the narrow path hidden in the shadows below.
他把老刀带到窗口，向下指向一条被阴影覆盖的小路。
“Start by climbing down the drain pipe from my unit. Under the felt cloth you’ll find hidden footholds I installed back in the day—if you stick close enough to the wall, the cameras won’t see you. Once you’re on the ground, stick to the shadows and head that way until you get to the edge. You’ll feel as well as see the cleft. Follow the cleft and go north. Remember, go north.”
“从我房子底下爬下去，顺着排水管，毡布底下有我原来安上去的脚蹬，身子贴得足够紧了就能避开摄像头。从那儿过去，沿着阴影爬到边上。你能摸着也能看见那道缝。沿着缝往北走。一定得往北。千万别错了。”
Then Peng Li explained the technique for entering First Space as the ground turned during the Change. He had to wait until the ground began to cleave and rise. Then, from the elevated edge, he had to swing over and scramble about fifty meters over the cross section until he reached the other side of the turning earth, climb over, and head east. There, he would find a bush that he could hold onto as the ground descended and closed up. He could then conceal himself in the bush. Before Peng had even finished his explanation, Lao Dao was already halfway out the window, getting ready to climb down.
彭蠡接着解释了爬过土地的诀窍。要借着升起的势头，从升高的一侧沿截面爬过五十米，到另一侧地面，爬上去，然后向东，那里会有一丛灌木，在土地合拢的时候可以抓住并隐藏自己。老刀没有听完，就已经将身子探出窗口，准备向下爬了。
Peng Li held onto Lao Dao and made sure his foot was securely in the first foothold. Then he stopped. “I’m going to say something that you might not want to hear. I don’t think you should go. Over there … is not so great. If you go, you’ll end up feeling your own life is shit, pointless.”
彭蠡帮老刀爬出窗子，扶着他踩稳了窗下的踏脚。彭蠡突然停下来。“说句不好听的，”他说，“我还是劝你最好别去。那边可不是什么好地儿，去了之后没别的，只能感觉自己的日子有多操蛋。没劲。”
Lao Dao was reaching down with his other foot, testing for the next foothold. His body strained against the windowsill and his words came out labored. “It doesn’t matter. I already know my life is shit without having gone there.”
老刀的脚正在向下试探，身子还扒着窗台。“没事。”他说得有点费劲，“我不去也知道自己的日子有多操蛋。”
“Take care of yourself,” Peng Li said.
“好自为之吧。”彭蠡最后说。
Lao Dao followed Peng Li’s directions and groped his way down as quickly as he dared; the footholds felt very secure. He looked up and saw Peng Li light up a cigarette next to the window, taking deep drags. Peng Li put out the cigarette, leaned out, and seemed about to say something more, but ultimately he retreated back into his unit quietly. He closed his window, which glowed with a faint light.
老刀顺着彭蠡指出的路径快速向下爬。脚蹬的位置非常舒服。他看到彭蠡在窗口的身影，点了根烟，非常大口地快速抽了几口，又掐了。彭蠡一度从窗口探出身子，似乎想说什么，但最终还是缩了回去。窗子关上了，发着幽幽的光。
Lao Dao imagined Peng Li crawling into his cocoon-bed at the last minute, right before the Change. Like millions of others across the city, the cocoon–bed would release a soporific gas that put him into deep sleep. He would feel nothing as his body was transported by the flipping world, and he would not open his eyes again until tomorrow evening, forty–hours later. Peng Li was no longer young; he was no longer different from the other fifty million who lived in Third Space.
老刀知道，彭蠡会在转换前最后一分钟钻进胶囊，和整个城市数千万人一样，受胶囊定时释放出的气体催眠，陷入深深睡眠，身子随着世界颠倒来去，头脑却一无所知，一睡就是整整40个小时，到次日晚上再睁开眼睛。彭蠡已经老了，他终于和这个世界其他五千万住在第三空间的人一样了。
Lao Dao climbed faster, barely touching the footholds. When he was close enough to the ground, he let go and landed on all fours. Luckily, Peng Li’s unit was only on the fourth story, not too far up. He got up and ran through the shadow cast by the building next to the lake. He saw the crevice in the grass where the ground would open up.
老刀用自己最快的速度向下，一蹦一跳，在离地足够近的时候纵身一跃，匍匐在地上。彭蠡的房子在四层，离地不远。爬起身，沿高楼在湖边投下的阴影奔跑。他能看到草地上的裂隙，那是翻转的地方。
But before he reached it, he heard the muffled rumbling from behind him, interrupted by a few crisp clangs. Lao Dao turned around and saw Peng Li’s building break in half. The top half folded down and pressed toward him, slowly but inexorably.
还没跑到，就听到身后在压抑中轰鸣的隆隆和偶尔清脆的嘎啦声。老刀转过头，高楼拦腰截断，上半截正从天上倒下，缓慢却不容置疑地压迫过来。
Shocked, Lao Dao stared at the sight for a few moments before recovering. He raced to the fissure in the ground, and lay prostrate next to it.
老刀被震住了，怔怔看了好一会儿。他跑到缝隙，伏在地上。
The Change began. This was a process repeated every twenty–four hours. The whole world started to turn. The sound of steel and masonry folding, grating, colliding filled the air, like an assembly line grinding to a halt.
转换开始了。这是24小时周期的分隔时刻。整个世界开始翻转。钢筋砖块合拢的声音连成一片，像出了故障的流水线。
The towering buildings of the city gathered and merged into solid blocks; neon signs, shop awnings, balconies, and other protruding fixtures retracted into the buildings or flattened themselves into a thin layer against the walls, like skin. Every inch of space was utilized as the buildings compacted themselves into the smallest space.
高楼收拢合并，折叠成立方体。霓虹灯、店铺招牌、阳台和附加结构都被吸收入墙体，贴成楼的肌肤。结构见缝插针，每一寸空间都被占满。
The ground rose up. Lao Dao watched and waited until the fissure was wide enough. He crawled over the marble–lined edge onto the earthen wall, grabbing onto bits of metal protruding out of the soil. As the cleft widened and the walls elevated, he climbed, using his hands as well as feet. At first, he was climbing down, testing for purchase with his feet. But soon, as the entire section of ground rotated, he was lifted into the air, and up and down flipped around.
大地在升起。老刀观察着地面的走势，来到缝的边缘，又随着缝隙的升起不断向上爬。他手脚并用，从大理石铺就的地面边缘起始，沿着泥土的截面，抓住土里埋藏的金属断茬，最初是向下，用脚试探着退行，很快，随着整快土地的翻转，他被带到空中。
Lao Dao was thinking about last night.
老刀想到前一天晚上城市的样子。
He had cautiously stuck his head out of the trash heap, alert for any sound from the other side of the gate. The fermenting, rotting garbage around him was pungent: Greasy, fishy, even a bit sweet. He leaned against the iron gate. Outside, the world was waking up.
当时他从垃圾堆中抬起眼睛，警觉地听着门外的声音。周围发酵腐烂的垃圾散发出刺鼻的气息，带一股发腥的甜腻味。他倚在门前。铁门外的世界在苏醒。
As soon as the yellow glow of the streetlights seeped into the seam under the lifting gate, he squatted and crawled out of the widening opening. The streets were empty; lights came on in the tall buildings, story by story; fixtures extruded from the sides of buildings, unfolding and extending, segment by segment; porches emerged from the walls; the eaves rotated and gradually dropped down into position; stairs extended and descended to the street.
当铁门掀开的缝隙透入第一道街灯的黄色光芒，他俯下身去，从缓缓扩大的缝隙中钻出。街上空无一人，高楼灯光逐层亮起，附加结构从楼两侧探出，向两旁一节一节伸展，门廊从楼体内延伸，房檐延轴旋转，缓缓落下，楼梯降落延伸到马迷途上。
On both sides of the road, one black cube after another broke apart and opened, revealing the racks and shelves inside. Signboards emerged from the tops of the cubes and connected together while plastic awnings extended from both sides of the lane to meet in the middle, forming a corridor of shops. The streets were empty, as though Lao Dao were dreaming.
步行街的两侧，一个又一个黑色立方体从中间断裂，向两侧打开，露出其中货架的结构。立方体顶端伸出招牌，连成商铺的走廊，两侧的塑料棚向头顶延伸闭合。街道空旷得如同梦境。
The neon lights came on. Tiny flashing LEDs on top of the shops formed into characters advertising jujubes from Xinjiang, lapi noodles from Northeast China, bran dough from Shanghai, and cured meats from Hunan.
霓虹灯亮了，商铺顶端闪烁的小灯打出新疆大枣、东北拉皮、上海烤麸和湖南腊肉。
For the rest of the day, Lao Dao couldn’t forget the scene. He had lived in this city for forty–eight years, but he had never seen such a sight. His days had always started with the cocoon and ended with the cocoon, and the time in between was spent at work or navigating dirty tables at hawker stalls and loudly bargaining crowds surrounding street vendors. This was the first time he had seen the world, bare.
整整一天，老刀头脑中都忘不了这一幕。他在这里生活了四十八年，还从来没有见过这一切。他的日子总是从胶囊起，至胶囊终，在脏兮兮的餐桌和被争吵萦绕的货摊之间穿行。这是他第一次看到世界纯粹的模样。
Every morning, an observer at some distance from the city—say, a truck driver waiting on the highway into Beijing—could see the entire city fold and unfold.
每个清晨，如果有人从远处观望——就像大货车司机在高速北京入口处等待时那样——他会看到整座城市的伸展与折叠。
At six in the morning, the truck drivers usually got out of their cabs and walked to the side of the highway, where they rubbed their eyes, still drowsy after an uncomfortable night in the truck. Yawning, they greeted each other and gazed at the distant city center.
清晨六点，司机们总会走下车，站在高速边上，揉着经过一夜潦草睡眠而昏沉的眼睛，打着哈欠，相互指点着望向远处的城市中央。
The break in the highway was just outside the Seventh Ring Road, while all the ground rotation occurred within the Sixth Ring Road. The distance was perfect for taking in the whole city, like gazing at an island in the sea.
高速截断在七环之外，所有的翻转都在六环内发生。不远不近的距离，就像遥望西山或是海上的一座孤岛。
In the early dawn, the city folded and collapsed. The skyscrapers bowed submissively like the humblest servants until their heads touched their feet; then they broke again, folded again, and twisted their necks and arms, stuffing them into the gaps.
晨光熹微中，一座城市折叠自身，向地面收拢。高楼像最卑微的仆人，弯下腰，让自己低声下气切断身体，头碰着脚，紧紧贴在一起，然后再次断裂弯腰，将头顶手臂扭曲弯折，插入空隙。
The compacted blocks that used to be the skyscrapers shuffled and assembled into dense, gigantic Rubik’s Cubes that fell into a deep slumber.
高楼弯折之后重新组合，蜷缩成致密的巨大魔方，密密匝匝地聚合到一起，陷入沉睡。
The ground then began to turn. Square by square, pieces of the earth flipped 180 degrees around an axis, revealing the buildings on the other side. The buildings unfolded and stood up, awakening like a herd of beasts under the gray–blue sky. The island that was the city settled in the orange sunlight, spread open, and stood still as misty gray clouds roiled around it.
然后地面翻转，小块小块土地围绕其轴，一百八十度翻转到另一面，将另一面的建筑楼宇露出地表。楼宇由折叠中站立起身，在灰蓝色的天空中像苏醒的兽类。城市孤岛在橘黄色晨光中落位，展开，站定，腾起弥漫的灰色苍云。
The truck drivers, tired and hungry, admired the endless cycle of urban renewal.
司机们就在困倦与饥饿中欣赏这一幕无穷循环的城市戏剧。