close
「時光旅行」題材的科幻作品，寫作的人非常之多（尤其是華人作家），原因在於寫作門檻極低，只要發明一套穿梭時空的機關，其他就隨你大掰特掰。但也因此令人眼睛為之一亮的經典作品更難產生。
Robert A. Heinlein非常著名的短篇小說《行屍走肉》（All You Zombies...），絕對可稱為前無古人後無來者的史上最強「時光旅行」極品！此公或許華人讀者不熟，但在英語科幻界，Heinlein可是與Arthur C. Clarke[2001太空漫遊]和Isaac Asimov[變人]並稱為「The Big Three」的科幻宗師級人物。
Robert A. Heinlein為什麼能被稱為「科幻先生」（Mr. SF）？！研究一下這篇令人頭皮麻詭異到極點的作品就曉得了......
[AITNOG按：《行屍走肉》之小說（英語原文/中國譯本）放在後面，如果懶得咀嚼品味，那就直接看看這段《穿梭超時空》（Hyperspace；商周出版，1999）為了替『時光悖論』作解說範例而整理的摘要版吧！]
[!!!!!!!!!!SPOILER WARNING!!!!!!!!!!]
一九四五年，一位來路不明的女嬰被棄置在克里夫蘭的一所孤兒院。「珍」在孤獨和落寞中長大，不知道她的親生父母是誰，直到一九六三年的某日，她莫名其妙地愛上一位流浪漢。正當珍的際遇開始好轉時，災禍卻接踵而至。她懷了流浪漢的孩子，流浪漢卻不見蹤影。在複雜的生產手術中，醫生赫然發現珍有兩套性器官。為了拯救珍的生命，他們只好為珍進行變性手術，讓「她」變成「他」。最後，一位神秘的陌生人，從產房中綁走了她的孩子。
經歷了這些打擊，被社會排斥，被命運嘲笑的「他」，變成了一位酒鬼和流浪漢。珍不但失去了雙親和愛人，連自己的孩子也失去了。到了一九七０年，他走進冷清的「老爹酒吧」，向一位老酒保說出他悲哀的一生。酒保答應幫他報復對「她」始亂終棄的陌生人，條件是他必須參加「時間旅行團」。他們兩人進入時間機器，酒保將流浪漢留在一九六三年。流浪漢莫名其妙地愛上一位年輕的孤兒，後來讓她懷孕了。
酒保繼續前進九個月，從醫院綁走女嬰，將女嬰棄置於一九四五年的一所孤兒院。後來酒保將流浪漢帶到一九八五年，成為「時間旅行團」的一員。流浪漢終於開始過著穩定的生活，成為「時間旅行團」中一位受人尊敬的老會員。後來他化身為一位酒保，接下最棘手的任務：和命運的約會，在一九七０年的「老爹酒館」和一位流浪漢碰面。
問題是：誰是珍的父、母、祖父、祖母、兒子、女兒、孫子和孫女？當然了，小女孩、流浪漢和酒保都是同一個人。這些矛盾足以讓你暈頭轉向，讓你搞不清楚珍的出身。從珍的祖譜看來，所有分枝最後都回到原點。她居然是自己的父母！她就是整個家族。
[AITNOG按：怎樣？！比《12 Monkeys》還詭異唄...過去、現在、未來不但早已注定不能更改，整個事件根本就是因果交錯，毫無來頭...每次看完都覺得毛骨悚然！！！海萊因不愧是一代科幻大師！！！]
----------------------------------------
《All You Zombies...》[英語原文；網路完整版]--By Robert A. Heinlein
----------------------------------------
2217 -- TIME ZONE V (EST) -- 7 Nov 1970 -- NYC -- "Pop's Place": I was polishing a brandy snifter when the Unmarried Mother came in. I noted the time -- 10.17 P.M. zone five or eastern time November 7th, 1970. Temporal agents always notice time & date; we must.
The Unmarried Mother was a man twenty-five years old, no taller than I am, immature features and a touchy temper. I didn't like his looks -- I never had -- but he was a lad I was here to recruit, he was my boy. I gave him my best barkeep's smile.
Maybe I'm too critical. He wasn't swish; his nickname came from what he always said when some nosy type asked him his line: "I'm an unmarried mother." If he felt less than murderous he would add: " -- at four cents a word. I write confession stories."
If he felt nasty, he would wait for somebody to make something of it. He had a lethal style of in-fighting, like a female cop -- one reason I wanted him. Not the only one.
He had a load on and his face showed that he despised people more than usual. Silently I poured a double shot of Old Underwear and left the bottle. He drank, poured another.
I wiped the bar top. "How's the 'Unmarried Mother' racket?"
His fingers tightened on the glass and he seemed about to throw it at me; I felt for the sap under the bar. In temporal manipulation you try to figure everything, but there are so many factors that you never take needless risks.
I saw him relax that tiny amount they teach you to watch for in the Bureau's training school. "Sorry," I said. "Just asking, 'How's business?' Make it 'How's the weather?'"
He looked sour. "Business is O.K. I write 'em, they print 'em, I eat."
I poured myself one, leaned toward him. "Matter of fact," I said, "you write a nice stick -- I've sampled a few. You have an amazingly sure touch with the woman's angle."
It was a slip I had to risk; he never admitted what pennames he used. But he was boiled enough to pick up only the last. "'Woman's angle!'" he repeated with a snort. "Yeah, I know the woman's angle. I should."
"So?" I said doubtfully. "Sisters?"
"No. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Now, now," I answered mildly, "bartenders and psychiatrists learn that nothing is stranger than the truth. Why, son, if you heard the stories I do -- well, you'd make yourself rich. Incredible."
"You don't know what 'incredible' means!"
"So? Nothing astonishes me. I've always heard worse."
He snorted again. "Want to bet the rest of the bottle?"
"I'll bet a full bottle." I placed one on the bar.
"Well -- " I signaled my other bartender to handle the trade. We were at the far end, a single-stool space that I kept private by loading the bar top by it with jars of pickled eggs and other clutter. A few were at the other end watching the fights and somebody was playing the juke box -- private as a bed where we were. "O.K.," he began, "to start with, I'm a bastard."
"I mean it," he snapped. "My parents weren't married."
"Still no distinction," I insisted. "Neither were mine."
"When -- " He stopped, gave me the first warm look I ever saw on him. "You mean that?"
"I do. A one-hundred-percent bastard. In fact," I added, "No one in my family ever marries. All bastards."
"Don't try to top me -- you're married." He pointed at my ring.
"Oh, that." I showed it to him. "It just looks like a wedding ring; I wear it to keep women off." That ring is an antique I bought in 1985 from a fellow operative -- he had fetched it from pre-Christian Crete. "The Worm Ouroboros...the World Snake that eats its own tail, forever without end. A symbol of the Great Paradox."
He barely glanced at it. "If you're really a bastard, you know how it feels. When I was a little girl -- "
"Wups!" I said. "Did I hear you correctly?"
"Who's telling this story? When I was a little girl -- Look, ever hear of Christine Jorgenson? Or Roberta Cowell?"
"Uh, sex change cases? You're trying to tell me -- "
"Don't interrupt or swelp me, I won't talk. I was a foundling, left at an orphanage in Cleveland in 1945 when I was a month old. When I was a little girl, I envied kids with parents. Then, when I learned about sex -- and, believe me, Pop, you learn fast in an orphanage -- "
"I know."
"I made a solemn vow that any kid of mine would have both a pop and a mom. It kept me 'pure,' quite a feat in that vicinity -- I had to learn to fight to manage it. Then I got older and realized I stood darned little chance of getting married -- for the same reason I hadn't been adopted." He scowled. "I was horse-faced and buck-toothed, flat-chested and straight-haired."
"You don't look any worse than I do."
"Who cares how a barkeep looks? Or a writer? But people wanting to adopt pick little blue-eyed golden-haired morons. Later on, the boys want bulging breasts, a cute face, and an Oh-you-wonderful-male manner." He shrugged. "I couldn't compete. So I decided to join the W.E.N.C.H.E.S."
"Eh?"
"Women's Emergency National Corps, Hospitality & Entertainment Section, what they now call 'Space Angels' -- Auxiliary Nursing Group, Extraterrestrial Legions."
I knew both terms, once I had them chronized. Although we now use still a third name; it's that elite military service corps: Women's Hospitality Order Refortifying & Encouraging Spacemen. Vocabulary shift is the worst hurdle in time-jumps -- did you know that "service station" once meant a dispensary for petroleum fractions? Once on an assignment in the Churchill Era a woman said to me, "Meet me at the service station next door" -- which is not what it sounds; a "service station" (then) wouldn't have a bed in it.
He went on: "It was when they first admitted you can't send men into space for months and years and not relieve the tension. You remember how the wowsers screamed? -- that improved my chances, volunteers were scarce. A gal had to be respectable, preferably virgin (they liked to train them from scratch), above average mentally, and stable emotionally. But most volunteers were old hookers, or neurotics who would crack up ten days off Earth. So I didn't need looks; if they accepted me, they would fix my buck teeth, put a wave in my hair, teach me to walk and dance and how to listen to a man pleasingly, and everything else -- plus training for the prime duties. They would even use plastic surgery if it would help -- nothing too good for Our Boys.
"Best yet, they made sure you didn't get pregnant during your enlistment -- and you were almost certain to marry at the end of your hitch. Same way today, A.N.G.E.L.S. marry spacers -- they talk the language.
"When I was eighteen I was placed as a 'mother's helper.' This family simply wanted a cheap servant but I didn't mind as I couldn't enlist till I was twenty-one. I did housework and went to night school -- pretending to continue my high school typing and shorthand but going to a charm class instead, to better my chances for enlistment.
"Then I met this city slicker with his hundred dollar bills." He scowled. "The no-good actually did have a wad of hundred dollar bills. He showed me one night, told me to help myself.
"But I didn't. I liked him. He was the first man I ever met who was nice to me without trying to take my pants off. I quit night school to see him oftener. It was the happiest time of my life.
"Then one night in the park my pants did come off."
He stopped. I said, "And then?"
"And then nothing! I never saw him again. He walked me home and told me he loved me -- and kissed me good-night and never came back." He looked grim. "If I could find him, I'd kill him!"
"Well," I sympathized, "I know how you feel. But killing him -- just for doing what comes naturally -- hmm...Did you struggle?"
"Huh? What's that got to do with it?"
"Quite a bit. Maybe he deserves a couple of broken arms for running out on you, but -- "
"He deserves worse than that! Wait till you hear. Somehow I kept anyone from suspecting and decided it was all for the best. I hadn't really loved him and probably would never love anybody -- and I was more eager to join the W.E.N.C.H.E.S. than ever. I wasn't disqualified, they didn't insist on virgins. I cheered up.
"It wasn't until my skirts got tight that I realized."
"Pregnant?"
"The bastard had me higher'n a kite! Those skinflints I lived with ignored it as long as I could work -- then kicked me out and the orphanage wouldn't take me back. I landed in a charity ward surrounded by other big bellies and trotted bedpans until my time came.
"One night I found myself on an operating table, with a nurse saying, 'Relax. Now breathe deeply.'
"I woke up in bed, numb from the chest down. My surgeon came m. 'How do you feel?' he says cheerfully.
"'Like a mummy.'
"'Naturally. You're wrapped like one and full of dope to keep you numb. You'll get well -- but a Caesarian isn't a hangnail.'
"'Caesarian?' " I said, 'Doc -- did I lose the baby?'
"'Oh, no. Your baby's fine.'
"'Oh. Boy or girl?'
"'A healthy little girl. Five pounds, three ounces.'
"I relaxed. It's something, to have made a baby. I told myself I would go somewhere and tack 'Mrs.' on my name and let the kid think her papa was dead -- no orphanage for my kid!
"But the surgeon was talking. 'Tell me, uh -- ' He avoided my name. ' -- did you ever think your glandular setup was odd?'
"I said, 'Huh? Of course not. What are you driving at?'
"He hesitated. 'I'll give you this in one dose, then a hypo to let you sleep off your jitters. You'll have 'em.'
"'Why?' I demanded.
"'Ever hear of that Scottish physician who was female until she was thirty-five? -- then had surgery and became legally and medically a man? Got married. All okay.'
"'What's that got to do with me?'
"'That's what I'm saying. You're a man.'
"I tried to sit up. 'What?'
"'Take it easy. When I opened you, I found a mess. I sent for the Chief of Surgery while I got the baby out, then we held a consultation with you on the table -- and worked for hours to salvage what we could. You had two full sets of organs, both immature, but with the female set well enough developed that you had a baby. They could never be any use to you again, so we took them out and rearranged things so that you can develop properly as a man.' He put a hand on me. 'Don't worry. You're young, your bones will readjust, we'll watch your glandular balance -- and make a fine young man out of you.'
"I started to cry. 'What about my baby?'
"'Well, you can't nurse her, you haven't milk enough for a kitten. If I were you, I wouldn't see her -- put her up for adoption.'
"'No!'
"He shrugged. 'The choice is yours; you're her mother -- well, her parent. But don't worry now; we'll get you well first.'
"Next day they let me see the kid and I saw her daily -- trying to get used to her. I had never seen a brand-new baby and had no idea how awful they look -- my daughter looked like an orange monkey. My feeling changed to cold determination to do right by her. But four weeks later that didn't mean anything."
"Eh?"
"She was snatched."
"'Snatched?'"
The unmarried mother almost knocked over the bottle we had bet. "Kidnapped -- stolen from the hospital nursery!" He breathed hard. "How's that for taking the last thing a man's got to live for?"
"A bad deal," I agreed. "Let's pour you another. No clues?"
"Nothing the police could trace. Somebody came to see her, claimed to be her uncle. While the nurse had her back turned, he walked out with her."
"Description?"
"Just a man, with a face-shaped face, like yours or mine." He frowned. "I think it was the baby's father. The nurse swore it was an older man but he probably used make-up. Who else would swipe my baby? Childless women pull such stunts -- but whoever heard of a man doing it?"
"What happened to you then?"
"Eleven more months of that grim place and three operations. In four months I started to grow a beard; before I was out I was shaving regularly...and no longer doubted that I was male." He grinned wryly. "I was staring down nurses' necklines."
"Well," I said, "seems to me you came through okay. Here you are, a normal man, making good money, no real troubles. And the life of a female is not an easy one."
He glared at me. "A lot you know about it!"
"So?"
"Ever hear the expression 'a ruined woman'?"
"Mmm, years ago. Doesn't mean much today."
"I was as ruined as a woman can be; that bastard really ruined me -- I was no longer a woman...and I didn't know how to be a man."
"Takes getting used to, I suppose."
"You have no idea. I don't mean learning how to dress, or not walking into the wrong rest room; I learned those in the hospital. But how could I live? What job could I get? Hell, I couldn't even drive a car. I didn't know a trade; I couldn't do manual labor -- too much scar tissue, too tender.
"I hated him for having ruined me for the W.E.N.C.H.E.S., too, but I didn't know how much until I tried to join the Space Corps instead. One look at my belly and I was marked unfit for military service. The medical officer spent time on me just from curiosity; he had read about my case.
"So I changed my name and came to New York. I got by as a fry cook, then rented a typewriter and set myself up as a public stenographer -- what a laugh! In four months I typed four letters and one manuscript. The manuscript was for Real Life Tales and a waste of paper, but the goof who wrote it, sold it. Which gave me an idea; I bought a stack of confession magazines and studied them." He looked cynical. "Now you know how I get the authentic woman's angle on an unmarried-mother story...through the only version I haven't sold -- the true one. Do I win the bottle?"
I pushed it toward him. I was upset myself, but there was work to do. I said, "Son, you still want to lay hands on that so-and-so?"
His eyes lighted up -- a feral gleam.
"Hold it!" I said. "You wouldn't kill him?"
He chuckled nastily. "Try me."
"Take it easy. I know more about it than you think I do. I can help you. I know where he is."
He reached across the bar. "Where is he?"
I said softly, "Let go my shirt, sonny -- or you'll land in the alley and we'll tell the cops you fainted." I showed him the sap.
He let go. "Sorry. But where is he?" He looked at me. "And how do you know so much?"
"All in good time. There are records -- hospital records, orphanage records, medical records. The matron of your orphanage was Mrs. Fetherage -- right? She was followed by Mrs. Gruenstein -- right? Your name, as a girl, was 'Jane' -- right? And you didn't tell me any of this -- right?"
I had him baffled and a bit scared. "What's this? You trying to make trouble for me?"
"No indeed. I've your welfare at heart. I can put this character in your lap. You do to him as you see fit -- and I guarantee that you'll get away with it. But I don't think you'll kill him. You'd be nuts to -- and you aren't nuts. Not quite."
He brushed it aside. "Cut the noise. Where is he?"
I poured him a short one; he was drunk but anger was offsetting it. "Not so fast. I do something for you -- you do something for me."
"Uh...what?"
"You don't like your work. What would you say to high pay, steady work, unlimited expense account, your own boss on the job, and lots of variety and adventure?"
He stared. "I'd say, 'Get those goddam reindeer off my roof!' Shove it, Pop -- there's no such job."
"Okay, put it this way: I hand him to you, you settle with him, then try my job. If it's not all I claim -- well, I can't hold you."
He was wavering, the last drink did it. "When d'yuh d'liver 'im?" he said thickly.
"If it's a deal -- right now!"
He shoved out his hand. "It's a deal!"
I nodded to my assistant to watch both ends, noted the time -- 2300 -- started to duck through the gate under the bar -- when the juke box blared out: "I'm My Own Granpaw!" The service man had orders to load it with old Americana and classics because I couldn't stomach the "music" of 1970, but I hadn't known that tape was in it. I called out, "Shut that off! Give the customer his money back." I added, "Storeroom, back in a moment," and headed there with my Unmarried Mother following.
It was down the passage across from the johns, a steel door to which no one but my day manager and myself had a key; inside was a door to an inner room to which only I had a key. We went there.
He looked blearily around at windowless walls. "Where is 'e?"
"Right away." I opened a case, the only thing in the room; it was a U.S.F.F. Co-ordinates Transformer Field Kit, series 1992, Mod. II -- a beauty, no moving parts, weight twenty-three kilos fully charged, and shaped to pass as a suitcase. I had adjusted it precisely earlier that day; all I had to do was to shake the metal net which limits the transformation field.
Which I did. "Wha's that?" he demanded.
"Time machine," I said and tossed the net over us. "Hey!" he yelled and stepped back. There is a technique to this; the net has to be thrown so that the subject will instinctively step back onto the metal mesh, then you close the net with both of you inside completely -- else you might leave shoe soles behind or a piece of foot, or scoop up a slice of floor. But that's all the skill it takes. Some agents con a subject into the net; I tell the truth and use that instant of utter astonishment to flip the switch. Which I did.
1030 -- V -- 3 April 1963 -- Cleveland, Ohio -- Apex Bldg.: "Hey!" he repeated. "Take this damn thing off!"
"Sorry," I apologized and did so, stuffed the net into the case, closed it. "You said you wanted to find him."
"But -- You said that was a time machine!"
I pointed out a window. "Does that look like November? Or New York?" While he was gawking at new buds and spring weather, I reopened the case, took out a packet of hundred dollar bills, checked that the numbers and signatures were compatible with 1963. The Temporal Bureau doesn't care how much you spend (it costs nothing) but they don't like unnecessary anachronisms. Too many mistakes and a general court martial will exile you for a year in a nasty period, say 1974 with its strict rationing and forced labor. I never make such mistakes, the money was okay. He turned around and said, "What happened?"
"He's here. Go outside and take him. Here's expense money." I shoved it at him and added, "Settle him, then I'll pick you up."
Hundred dollar bills have a hypnotic effect on a person not used to them. He was thumbing them unbelievingly as I eased him into the hall, locked him out. The next jump was easy, a small shift in era.
1700 -- V -- 10 March 1964 -- Cleveland -- Apex Bldg.: There was a notice under the door saying that my lease expired next week; otherwise the room looked as it had a moment before. Outside, trees were bare and snow threatened; I hurried, stopping only for contemporary money and a coat, hat and topcoat I had left there when I leased the room. I hired a car, went to the hospital. It took twenty minutes to bore the nursery attendant to the point where I could swipe the baby without being noticed; we went back to the Apex Building. This dial setting was more involved as the building did not yet exist in 1945. But I had precalculated it.
0100 -- V -- 20 Sept 1945 -- Cleveland -- Skyview Motel: Field kit, baby, and I arrived in a motel outside town. Earlier I had registered as "Gregory Johnson, Warren, Ohio," so we arrived in a room with curtains closed, windows locked, and doors bolted, and the floor cleared to allow for waver as the machine hunts. You can get a nasty bruise from a chair where it shouldn't be -- not the chair of course, but backlash from the field.
No trouble. Jane was sleeping soundly; I carried her out, put her in a grocery box on the seat of a car I had provided earlier, drove to the orphanage, put her on the steps, drove two blocks to a "service station" (the petroleum products sort) and phoned the orphanage, drove back in time to see them taking the box inside, kept going and abandoned the car near the motel -- walked to it and jumped forward to the Apex Building in 1963.
2200 -- V -- 24 April 1963 -- Cleveland -- Apex Bldg.: I had cut the time rather fine -- temporal accuracy depends on span, except on return to zero. If I had it right, Jane was discovering, out in the park this balmy spring night, that she wasn't quite as "nice" a girl as she had thought. I grabbed a taxi to the home of those skinflints, had the hackie wait around a corner while I lurked in shadows.
Presently I spotted them down the street, arms around each other. He took her up on the porch and made a long job of kissing her good-night -- longer than I had thought. Then she went in and he came down the walk, turned away. I slid into step and hooked an arm in his. "That's all, son," I announced quietly. "I'm back to pick you up."
"You!" He gasped and caught his breath.
"Me. Now you know who he is -- and after you think it over you'll know who you are...and if you think hard enough, you'll figure out who the baby is...and who I am."
He didn't answer, he was badly shaken. It's a shock to have it proved to you that you can't resist seducing yourself. I took him to the Apex Building and we jumped again.
2300 -- VII -- 12 Aug 1985 -- Sub Rockies Base: I woke the duty sergeant, showed my I.D., told the sergeant to bed him down with a happy pill and recruit him in the morning. The sergeant looked sour but rank is rank, regardless of era; he did what I said -- thinking no doubt, that the next time we met he might be the colonel and I the sergeant. Which can happen in our corps. "What name?" he asked.
I wrote it out. He raised his eyebrows. "Like so, eh? Hmm -- "
"You just do your job, Sergeant." I turned to my companion. "Son, your troubles are over. You're about to start the best job a man ever held -- and you'll do well. I know."
"But -- "
"'But' nothing. Get a night's sleep, then look over the proposition. You'll like it."
"That you will!" agreed the sergeant. "Look at me -- born in 1917 -- still around, still young, still enjoying life." I went back to the jump room, set everything on preselected zero.
2301 -- V -- 7 Nov 1970 -- NYC -- "Pop's Place": I came out of the storeroom carrying a fifth of Drambuie to account for the minute I had been gone. My assistant was arguing with the customer who had been playing "I'm My Own Granpaw!" I said, "Oh, let him play it, then unplug it." I was very tired.
It's rough, but somebody must do it and it's very hard to recruit anyone in the later years, since the Mistake of 1972. Can you think of a better source than to pick people all fouled up where they are and give them well-paid, interesting (even though dangerous) work in a necessary cause? Everybody knows now why the Fizzle War of 1963 fizzled. The bomb with New York's number on it didn't go off, a hundred other things didn't go as planned -- all arranged by the likes of me.
But not the Mistake of '72; that one is not our fault -- and can't be undone; there's no paradox to resolve. A thing either is, or it isn't, now and forever amen. But there won't be another like it; an order dated "1992" takes precedence any year.
I closed five minutes early, leaving a letter in the cash register telling my day manager that I was accepting his offer, so see my lawyer as I was leaving on a long vacation. The Bureau might or might not pick up his payments, but they want things left tidy. I went to the room back of the storeroom and forward to 1993.
2200 -- VII -- 12 Jan 1993 -- Sub Rockies Annex -- HQ Temporal DOL: I checked in with the duty officer and went to my quarters, intending to sleep for a week. I had fetched the bottle we bet (after all, I won it) and took a drink before I wrote my report. It tasted foul and I wondered why I had ever liked Old Underwear. But it was better than nothing; I don't like to be cold sober, I think too much. But I don't really hit the bottle either; other people have snakes -- I have people.
I dictated my report: forty recruitments all okayed by the Psych Bureau -- counting my own, which I knew would be okayed. I was here, wasn't I? Then I taped a request for assignment to operations; I was sick of recruiting. I dropped both in the slot and headed for bed.
My eye fell on "The By-Laws of Time," over my bed:
Never Do Yesterday What Should be Done Tomorrow.
If At Last You Do Succeed, Never Try Again.
A Stitch in Time Saves Nine Billion.
A Paradox May be Paradoctored.
It is Earlier When You Think.
Ancestors Are Just People.
Even Jove Nods.
They didn't inspire me the way they had when I was a recruit; thirty subjective years of time-jumping wears you down. I undressed and when I got down to the hide I looked at my belly. A Caesarian leaves a big scar but I'm so hairy now that I don't notice it unless I look for it.
Then I glanced at the ring on my finger.
The Snake That Eats Its Own Tail, Forever and Ever...I know where I came from -- but where did all you zombies come from?
I felt a headache coming on, but a headache powder is one thing I do not take. I did it once -- and you all went away.
So I crawled into bed and whistled out the light.
You aren't really there at all. There isn't anybody but me -- Jane -- here alone in the dark.
I miss you dreadfully!
----------------------------------------
《行屍走肉》[windywings 重譯版]--[美] 羅伯特‧海萊因
----------------------------------------
1970年11月7日，第5時區（東部標準時間）22：17。紐約市「老爹」酒吧。
我正在擦一支喝白蘭地酒用的矮腳杯時，『未婚媽媽』走了進來。我注意了一下時間：1970年11月7日，第5時區或東部時區下午10點17分。時空探員總是注意著時間和日期；我們必須如此。
『未婚媽媽』是個25歲的男子，個子沒我高，幼稚且暴躁的個性。我不喜歡他，也從未喜歡過他這副德行，不過他是我要招募的伙伴，是我需要的人。我對他投以我酒吧老闆最殷切的笑容。
也許是我太吹毛求疵了。他並不時髦；他的暱稱來自於：每當有些好管閒事的人追問他的行業時，他總是說：『我是個未婚媽媽』，如果興致好一點的話還會加上一句：『…我寫自白書，一個字四分錢。』
如果他情緒惡劣，他會找人來發洩一番。他有一種像是女警近身搏擊的致命風格。——這是我看中他的理由，當然不是唯一的一個。
他心事重重，臉顯的比平常更鄙視人，我默默地倒了雙份的Old Underwear給他，並留下酒瓶。他一口喝完又倒了一杯。
我擦著吧檯「『未婚媽媽』的事業如何？」
他的手指緊握著玻璃杯像是要砸向我，我摸索著吧檯下的木棍。在時空操控下你企圖獲知所有事情，但總是有很多因素讓你不會冒不必要的風險。
我看見他放鬆了一下，局裡的訓練學校就教你如何察言觀色。「抱歉」我說，「只是問問，『生意如何？』就像是『天氣如何？』」
他看起來還是不太高興「生意還OK，我寫了，他們印了，還過的去」
我給自己倒了一杯，探身過去，「事實上，」我說，「你文筆不錯，我挑了幾篇看。你有著以女性觀點來看的令人驚奇的明確格調。
我必須冒點險；他從未承認過他用什麼筆名。不過也許是太激怒了，他只顧及了最後那幾個字。「『女性觀點！』」他嗤之以鼻地重複著。「是的，我懂女性觀點。我應該要懂。」
「是嗎？」我懷疑地說，「是姐妹嗎？」
「不。我就是說了你也不會相信。」
「既然如此，」我溫和地回答，「不論酒保或是神經學者都知道，沒有比真相更稀奇的東西了。聽著，孩子，如果你聽了我的故事，哈，你會發財呢。難以置信。」
「你根本就不懂『難以置信』是什麼意思！」
「是嗎？沒有什麼事會讓我吃驚了。我總是聽到最糟糕的。」
他又哼了一聲。「要不要賭一下瓶裡剩下的酒啊？」
「我願意賭一整瓶酒。」我把一瓶放在吧檯上。
「喂…」我叫了另一個酒保來接手。我們坐到酒吧盡頭的一塊狹小地方，我個人用來堆放一些醃蛋的瓶瓶罐罐和其他的雜物的地方。在酒吧另一端有幾個人在看打架，某個人在玩著自動點唱機——完全沒有人注意這地方。
「好，」他起頭，「先說的是，我是個私生子。」
「這在這不稀奇」我說。
「我是認真的」他急促地說，「我父母並沒有結婚」
「還是沒什麼稀奇」我堅持地說，「我父母也沒有結婚」
「當初…」他停住，給我一個從未見過的溫暖表情「你當真？」
「當真。一個百分之百的私生子。事實上，」我補充道，「我家裡沒有人曾經結過婚。全是私生子。」
「別想騙過我……你就結婚了。」他指著我的戒指。
「噢，這個啊。」我伸手給他看，「它看上去像個結婚戒指；我只是為了避開女人。這只戒指是我在1985年從一個同行那裡買來的古物，他是從西元前的克里特島弄到的。Ouroboros蟲…啃著自己尾巴的世界之蛇，永無止境，一個巨大矛盾的象徵」
他勉強地看了戒指一眼。「如果你真是個私生子，你知道那種感覺。當我還是個小女孩時…」
「哇喔！」我說，「我沒聽錯吧？」
「誰在唬你？當我是個小女孩時，聽過克莉斯汀‧喬根森嗎？或是羅伯特‧科威爾嗎？」
「噢，性別改變？你該不會想告訴我……」
「不要打岔，也不要逼我，不然我就不講了。我是個棄兒，1945年在我剛滿月時被遺棄在克裏夫蘭的一個孤兒院裡。當我是個小女孩時，我嫉妒有父母親的孩子。之後，當我懂得性愛時…相信我，老爹，孤兒院裡學得很快……」
「我明白。」
「我發了一個鄭重的誓言，我的每個孩子都將擁有父親和母親。這讓我十分的『純潔』，在那種環境可稱得上是聖女了——我必須學習怎樣竭力維護這種狀況。後來我長大了並意識到，我失去了結婚的機會——為了同個理由沒人收養我。」他皺眉，「我長著一張馬臉和暴牙，平平的胸脯和直直的頭髮」
「你的樣子不比我糟。」
「誰會在乎一個酒吧老闆長得什麼樣？或者一個作家的長相？可是人們都想要認領那種精緻且金髮碧眼的笨蛋。後來，男孩子們要的是那種漂亮臉蛋，乳房豐滿，還有一副『喔你真是個完美的男性』的態度。」他聳聳肩。「我無法競爭。於是我決定加入W.E.N.C.H.E.S。」
「啊？」
「婦女危機全國總部遊覽分部（Women's Emergency National Corps, Hospitality & Entertainment Section），現在人們稱它作『太空天使』—宇宙軍隊附屬護理組織。
「這兩個團隊我都知道，我曾經把它們記下來過。只是我們現在用的是第三個名稱，就是那個精銳部隊服務團：太空人婦女後援會。在時空跳躍中，詞彙變更是最糟糕的問題…你知道那個『服務站』曾經是指石油分離物的檢測所。有一次我到丘吉爾時代去執行一項任務，一個女子對我說，『在隔壁的服務站裡等我』——這句話可不是聽起來的意思，（那時的）服務站不會放一張床在裡面。
他繼續說下去：「那時他們第一次承認不可能讓人到太空工作幾年幾月而不造成緊張。你記得清教徒是如何尖叫的嗎？——這增進了我的機會，因為自願者很少。少女必須是一個品行端正的，完整的處女（他們要從零開始訓練她們），智力要中上，且情緒穩定。可是大多數的自願者都是些老娼妓，或是離開地球不到十天就會崩潰的神經病人。所以我不需要外表怎樣。如果他們接受我，除了訓練我如何適應主要任務之外，自然會矯正我的暴牙，把我的頭髮燙出波浪，教我走路和跳舞，還有如何愉快地聽男人談話，以及一切的一切。如果需要的話他們甚至會採用整形手術——讓這些男人無可挑剔為止。
「最好的是，他們確保你在服務期間不會懷孕——而且在服役期結束時你幾乎確定可以結婚。跟現在一樣，『天使』嫁給太空人——他們聊的來。
「我十八歲的時後，我被安排成為一個『母親的幫手』。這個家庭只是需要一個便宜的僕人，因為我要到二十一歲才可以服役，所以我也不在意，。我做家務後還去夜校上學—假裝是繼續我在高中時的打字和速記課程，但實際上是去上『魅力課』以增加我服役的機會。
「接著我遇到了那個有著百元大鈔的城市騙子。」他皺眉，「這無賴倒真的有一疊百元鈔票。某天晚上他拿給我看，還說我可以隨意取用。
「不過我沒有拿。我喜歡他。他是我遇到第一個對我好又不想獵取我的男人。為了能更常遇見他，我從夜校退了學。這是我一生中最快樂的時光。
「之後，某天晚上，在公園裡獵捕遊戲開始了。」
他停住。我說，「後來呢？」
「後來什麼也沒有了！我再也沒有見到他。他送我回家，告訴我他愛我和我吻別，然後就再也沒回來了。」他面目猙獰，「如果讓我找到他，我要殺了他！」
「嗯，」我表示同情「我知道你的感覺。不過殺了他——就為了那種必然會發生的事——嗯……你掙扎了嗎？」
「嘿，這有什麼關係？」
「有點關係。他遺棄了你，他活該斷了兩隻手臂，不過……」
「他應當受到更重的懲罰！你聽著。我不至於對任何人都不再信任，但我覺得這樣才是最好的。我並沒有真正愛他，或許我永遠不會愛任何人——而我比以往更迫切地想參加W.E.N.C.H.E.S。我並沒有被取消資格，他們並不堅持一定要處女。我開心起來了。
「直到我的裙子緊了以後我才明白。」
「懷孕？」
「這個私生子讓我意亂心迷，不知怎麼辦才好！這些跟我住在一起的吝嗇鬼只要我還能工作也不來理會——但後來還是把我踢出去了，孤兒院不再收容我了。我進了一家收容了不少『大肚子』的收容所，大腹便便地躺在床上等著那一刻的來臨。」
「某天晚上我醒來發現自己在手術臺上，一個護士對我說：『別緊張。深呼吸。』」
「我醒著躺在床上，胸部以下沒有一點知覺。我的手術醫生走進來『你感覺怎樣？』他高興地說。
『像一個木乃伊』
『這很自然。你被綁成一團還打了足量的麻藥讓你麻痺。你會恢復的——不過剖腹產畢竟跟肉刺不同。』
『剖腹產？』我說，『醫生……孩子死了嗎？』
『噢，不。你的孩子很好。』
『嗯。男孩還是女孩？』
『一個健康的小女孩。5磅3盎司。』
「我放心了。生下孩子多少是一種寬慰。我對自己說，應當到某個地方去，在我名字前面冠上『太太』的稱謂，讓孩子認為她的好爸爸已經死了…我的孩子絕不能去孤兒院！
「我的手術醫生還在說話。『告訴我，嗯……』他避開我的名字。『你有沒有想過你的腺狀組織有些特別？』」
「我說，『啊？當然沒有。你想說什麼？』」
「他猶豫著。『這個藥你一次把它服下，鎮定劑會讓你好好睡一覺。我這就去拿。』
「『為什麼？』我要求要知道。」
「『聽說那個到三十五歲還是個女人的蘇格蘭醫生嗎？……之後她動了術，法律上和醫學上都成了一名男子。結了婚，一切正常。』
『那和我有什麼關係？』
『這就是我要說的。你是個男人。』
「我想坐起來。『什麼？』
『別緊張。在我剖開你的腹部後，我只見一團糟。我一邊把嬰兒取出來一邊要人去找外科主任醫生。我們就在手術臺上替你診察——連續幾個小時，盡我們所能進行挽救。你有兩套完整的器官，都沒有發育成熟，不過女性器官發育得相當完整足以讓你懷有孩子。它們對你已經不會再有用了，所以我們將它們取出來並重新安置了你的內臟，因此你可以正常地發育成為一名男子。』他把一隻手搭在我肩上。『不要擔心。你還年輕，你的骨骼會逐漸適應。我們將觀察你的腺體平衡 ——讓你成為一個出色的年輕人。』
「我開始哭泣。『那我的孩子怎麼辦？』」
『嗯，你不能哺育她。你的奶水連餵一隻小貓都不夠。如果我是你，我就不再見她——交給別人去收養。』
『不！』
「他聳聳肩。『當然由你決定；你是她的母親……嗯，她的父母親。不過現在別擔心；我們先讓你恢復身體。』」
「第二天他們讓我看了孩子，我每天都見到她——我試著熟悉她。我從未見過一個剛出生的嬰兒，也不知道它們看起來這麼可怕——我的女兒看起來像一隻小棕猴。我冷靜下來了，決定好好照顧她。不過，四星期後這已經沒有任何意義了。」
「啊？」
「她被奪走了。」
「奪走？」
『未婚媽媽』幾乎撞倒我們賭的那瓶酒。「被綁架了……從醫院的育嬰室偷走的！」他喘著氣，「把一個人生活的最後一點希望奪去了，這算什麼？」
「太不幸了，」我同意，「讓我再給你倒一杯。沒有一點線索嗎？」
「警察找不到任何線索。某人來探望她，聲稱是她的叔叔。當護士背過身去時他就把她抱走了。」
「他長得什麼樣？」
「一個男子，大眾臉，就像你的或我的臉。」他皺眉說，「我想會不會是孩子的父親。護士卻一口咬定是一個年齡較大的人，不過他很可能化裝過。還有誰會來拐我的孩子？沒有孩子的女人有時會鋌而走險……可是誰聽說過一個男人會作這樣的事？」
「那以後你怎麼樣？」
「我在那鬼地方又待了十一個月，動了三次手術。四個月後我開始長出鬍子。在我離開那裡之前我就經常刮鬍子了……並且不再懷疑自己是個男人。」他咧嘴苦笑了一下，「我開始往護士們的胸口裡看了。」
「嗯，」我說，「看來你順利地挺過來了。現在瞧你，一個正常的男人，能賺錢，沒有真正的麻煩。要是一個女人生活就不那麼容易了。」
他盯著我說，「你知道得很多！」
「所以？」
「聽過『墮落的女人』這種說法嗎？」
「嗯，幾年前聽說過。現在已經沒有多少意義了。」
「我就像一個墮落的女人那樣完全毀了。那個流浪漢確實毀了我……我已不再是個女人……而我卻不知道如何成為一個男人。」
「努力習慣它吧，我想。」
「你根本就不懂。我不是說學會如何穿衣打扮，或是走錯廁所。這些我在醫院就學會了。只是我要如何生活？我可以找到什麼工作？媽的，我甚至不會開車。我 不會任何手藝，不能作勞動工作——我全身各處組織大多動過手術，太虛弱了。
「我也恨他毀了我參加W. E. N. C. H. E. S.的希望。我是到了試著加入太空軍團時才明白事情的嚴重性。只需瞧一眼我的肚子就夠了，我被貼上不適宜服兵役的標籤。那個醫務官僅僅是為好奇才在花時間在我身上，他讀過我的病例。
「於是我換了名字來到了紐約。我先是當一個油炸廚師勉強混混，後來租了一架打字機當起了公共速記員——真是個笑話！在四個月裡我打了四封信和一份手稿。 這份手稿是投給《真人真事》雜誌的，不過是一疊廢紙，可是寫故事的這個小子居然把它賣出去了。這倒讓我產生了一個想法。我買了一大疊自白書雜誌來研讀。」他看起來憤世嫉俗，「現在你明白我在講述一個未婚媽媽的故事時怎麼會有一個道地的女性觀點了……我還保留著這種眼光，真正的眼光，我是不是 贏了這瓶酒？」
我把酒瓶推向他。我有些焦慮不安，事情並沒有完。我說，「孩子，你還想逮住那個負心漢嗎？」
他的眼睛亮起來——一種野性的凶光。
「算了吧！」我說，「你不會殺了他吧？」
他咯咯地笑起來，聲音顯得很淫穢。「試看看啊！」
「慢著。這件事我知道得比你想的還要多。我可以幫你。我知道他在什麼地方。」
他從吧檯另一側伸過來，一把抓住了我，「他在哪裡？」
我輕聲地說，「放開我的襯衫，孩子——要不你會躺在後街。我們會告訴警察你喝醉了。」我揮動了一下棍子。
他鬆了手。「抱歉。他在哪裡？」他看著我，「而且為什麼你會知道得這麼多？」
「碰巧的。我可以看到各種記錄——醫院病例、孤兒院檔案、醫療記錄。你那所孤兒院的護士長是費瑟雷思太太……對吧？她後來由格倫斯坦太太接任……對吧？你的名字，女孩時的名字，是『珍妮』……對吧？而你剛才並沒有告訴我這些……對吧？」
他被我嚇傻了並有幾分畏縮。「什麼意思？你想找我麻煩嗎？」
「沒必要。我是真心地為你著想。我可以把這個人送到你面前。你認為怎樣合適就怎樣處置他——而我保證你會叫他滾。不過我不認為你會殺他。如果殺死他你就是個傻瓜——你不是傻瓜。根本不傻。」
他沒有心思聽這些。「別瞎說了。他在哪裡？」
我給他添了一點酒。他醉了，不過憤怒壓過了醉意。「別這麼急嘛。我為你做件事——你也為我做件事。」
「嗯……什麼事？」
「你不喜歡你的工作。要是有一個工作，薪資高，工作穩定，開支不受限制，自己能獨立做主，同時又富於變化和冒險，你會怎麼說？」
他睜大眼睛。「我會說，『少來那一套天方夜譚！』去你的，老爹——根本沒有這種工作。」
「那麼，這樣說吧：我把他交給你，你料理他，然後試試我的工作。如果不像我說的……那好，那就隨你便了。」
他在身體在晃動，是最後那杯酒的緣故。「啥時..去..找他」他口齒不清地說
「如果成交……就是現在！」
他晃著手：「成交！」
我向助手點頭示意收拾殘局，記下了時間：23：00——開始低身穿過吧檯下的門——這時自動點唱機高聲放出《I’m My Own Grandpaw! 》的歌曲。因為我不喜歡1970年的“音樂”，我叫服務員在點唱機上裝上美國老歌和古典音樂，可是我不知道那捲錄音帶還在裡面。我叫道，「關掉它！把那個顧客的錢退回去。」我加上一句，「我去儲藏室，馬上就回來」直接往裡頭走去，『未婚媽媽』跟在後面。
沿著走廊走到底拐過廁所後就是儲藏室，房間有著一扇鐵門，除了我的日班經理和我自己以外沒人有鑰匙。裡面有一扇門通往內間，只有我才有鑰匙。我們走向那裡。
他朦朧地地望著沒有窗戶的牆壁：「他在哪？」
「馬上。」我打開一個箱子，這是房間裡唯一的東西。這是一部美國製造的92系列Ⅱ型外攜式座標式變換器——美觀、俐落，全重21公斤，外型設計得正好放入手提箱。前幾天我才剛調整好，我所需做的只是晃動即限制變換場的金屬網。
我這麼做了。「這是什麼？」他問道。
「時光機器。」我說著並把金屬網拋出。
「哎！」他大叫倒退了一步。這裡有一種技術，金屬網必須拋出使實驗對象本能地倒退而踏在網上，然後把已經完全包圍著你們的金屬網束起——不然的話，你也許會遺留下一隻鞋或一隻腳，或者是刮起一塊地板。當然這種技法說穿了也沒什麼了不起。有些探員；連哄帶騙地把實驗對象弄進網裡。我卻告訴他們實話，利用對方極度驚訝的瞬間而啟動機關。就是我做的事。
1963年4月3日，第5時區10：30。克里夫蘭，『俄亥俄之頂』大樓。
「哎！」他又喊了一次，「把這該死的東西拿掉！」
「抱歉，」我向他道歉並收起金屬網，將它收進手提箱，並且關上。「你說你想找到他的。」
「可是……你說的這是一部時間機器！」
我指指窗外。「這裡看上去像11月嗎？或像是紐約？」在他痴呆地看著嫩芽和春天的景色時，我又打開了提箱，拿出一疊百元面額的美鈔，確認了一下鈔票的編號和戳記都符合1963年。時空管理局並不在乎你花了多少（這與它無關），不過他們並不喜歡不必要的年代錯誤。若是你犯了太多這樣的錯誤，一個將軍級的軍事法庭會把你流放到一個惡劣的年代去待上一年，譬如說嚴格食品配給和強制勞動的1974年。我從來沒有犯過這類錯誤，這些錢沒有問題。
他回頭問我：「發生了什麼事？」
「他在這裡。到外面去找他。這是給你花的錢。」我塞給他時又補了一句，「和他了斷，然後我會來接你。」
成疊的百元鈔對於一個不習慣它們的人，有一種催眠的效應。我把他送進了大廳，鎖在門外時，他還一副不可置信地捏著那一疊鈔票。下一步的時空跳躍太容易了，只是在同一時代的小小的移動。
1964年3月10日，第5時區17：00。『克里夫蘭之頂』大樓。
門的下方有一個通知，說我的租約下週到期，除此之外這個房間看上去與剛才的並無兩樣。外面，樹木光禿禿的，天空像要下雪的樣子。我必須趕快，僅停留片刻，取走我租房間留下的現金、上衣、帽子和大衣。我招了一部車到醫院去。我花了二十分鐘才把育嬰室的看護弄得不耐煩，我才可以趁她不注意偷走嬰兒。我們回到『克里夫蘭之頂』大樓。這種刻度盤的時間裝置更為複雜，因為大樓在1945年時還不存在。不過我預計到了。
1945年9月20日，第5時區01：00。克里夫蘭『空景』汽車旅館。
時間機器，嬰兒和我都到了城外的一家汽車旅館。早些時候我就以“俄亥俄州沃倫市的喬治‧強森”登記了。於是我們來到了一個窗簾拉上、窗戶和房門封鎖的房間。 地板也進行了清理使其能夠承受機器的不規則的震動。你的身體可能會撞上一張原不該在那裡的椅子而出現一塊令人不快的瘀青——當然並非椅子，而是變換場能量的衝擊。
一切順利。珍妮正在熟睡著。我把她抱出來，放在我事先放置在汽車座位上的雜貨箱裡，開車到孤兒院。我把她放在臺階上，開過兩條街來到一個『服務站』（石油製造類），打個電話給孤兒院。在我開車回來途中正好看見孤兒院的人把雜貨箱拿進去。繼續開了一陣，把汽車遺棄在汽車旅館附近，走回汽車旅館後就時空跳躍到1963 年的『克里夫蘭之頂』大樓。
1963年4月24日，第5時區22：00。『克里夫蘭之頂』大樓。
我把時間劃分得十分仔細——時間的精確性取決於跨度，除了你是回到起始點之外。如果我是正確的話，在這宜人的春天夜晚，珍妮在公園裡發現，她並非像她以前所想的那樣是個好女孩。我攔了一輛計程車到那些吝嗇鬼的住處，我讓司機在轉角等著，自己則藏在陰影處。
很快我發現他們走在街上，手勾著手。在門口他摟住她，親吻她並祝她晚安——時間超乎我想像的長。然後她走進屋去，而他轉身走上人行道。我滑進臺階架住他的胳膊。「結束了，孩子，」我平靜地說，“「我來接你回去。」
「你！」他嚇了一跳，喘著氣說。
「我。現在你知道他是誰了——而且你仔細想過以後，你就會明白你是誰……而且如果你再好好想想，你會猜出這嬰兒是誰……還有我是誰。」
他沒有回答，渾身顫抖。當事實證明你無法抗拒誘惑你自己的話是一個很大的震撼。我帶他去『克里夫蘭之頂』大樓，再次進行時空跳躍。
1985年8月12日，第5時區23：00。洛基總部。
我叫醒值班軍士，出示我的識別證，告訴軍士給我的同伴快樂丸好好地睡下，第二天早晨徵召他。軍士的表情很難看，不過軍階就是軍階，與時代無關。他照我所說的做了——毫無疑問地，下次我們相遇時他可能是上校而我是軍士。在我們的軍營裡是有可能的。「他叫什麼名字？」他問。
我寫給他。他的眉毛揚了起來。「這樣的人，嗯？這……」
「你只要作你該作的工作，軍士。」我轉身面對我的同伴
「孩子，你的麻煩已經結束了。你就要開始從事一個男人所能擁有的最好工作——你會作好的。我知道。」
「可是……」
「沒那麼多『可是』。好好睡一覺。然後考慮一下這個建議。你會喜歡它的。」
「你一定會的！」軍士表示同意。「瞧我——生於1917年——仍然健壯、年輕、享受生活。」我回到時空跳躍的房間，把一切撥到預置的零點上。
1970年11月7日，第5時區23：01。紐約市“老爹”酒吧。
我從儲藏室走出來，拿了1/5桶的蘇格蘭制威士忌利喬酒，算是說明我離去的那一分鐘。我的助手還在與那個點播《I’m My Own Grand-paw》的顧客爭辯。我說，「算了，讓他放吧，放完後就關掉。」我已十分疲倦。
這種工作的確很艱辛，可是總要有人來做。自從1972年的變故之後，這幾年要招募到人是很困難的。你能想到有比，從腐敗的人群中挑選人並給他們高薪資、有趣（即使危險）且必要的工作，更好的資源嗎？現在大家都知道為什麼1963年的失敗戰失敗了，在紐約的炸彈數量還沒完全消除，數以百計的其他東西尚未如計畫的撤離—都是由像我這樣的人安排的。
但不是72年的變故；那不是我們的錯—--而且不能再從來一次；沒有矛盾可以再被重新解析。事情不是對就是錯，從今以後。不過以後不會再有一樣的事情發生，秩序化的日期『1992』有先於任何年份的一切優先權。
我提前五分鐘關店，在收銀機上留下一封信給我的日班經理，說我準備接受他的建議，放鬆一下。在我長期度假時他可以去找我的律師。局裡或許不會在意他們的收入，不過他們要的是事情必須井井有條。我來到儲藏室裡面的那個房間，跳躍到1993年。
1993年1月12日，第7時區22：00。洛基地下城附設時空勞工總部。
我向值勤官出示了證件登入後，來到我的住處，打算睡它一個星期，在寫報告前我抓起我們下賭的那瓶酒（不管怎麼說，我贏得了它）喝了一杯。酒的味道太糟了，我奇怪以往前怎麼會喜歡上Old Underwear。不過有總比沒有好，我不想像一根木頭那樣清醒著，我思考得太多了。不過我也沒有真的打破瓶子；其他人養蛇，我養人。
我口述了我的報告；為太空軍團進行的四十次招募活動都得到了局裡的批准——包括我自己的這次，我知道會被批准的。我現在回來了，不是嗎？接著我用錄音帶錄製下次任務的程序；我對招募活動感到厭倦了。我把它們丟在一邊並走向床去。
我的目光落在床頭上方的《時間準則》上：
永遠不要把明天要做的事搬到昨天去做。
如果你終於成功了，永遠不要再次嘗試。
及時的一秒勝過事後九億秒。
似是而非的事可以用似是而非的方法來處置。
你想到的時候事情已經發生了。
祖宗也是凡人。
真神也有瞌睡時。
他們不像當時我是個新兵一樣的激勵我了，身不由己的時空跳躍三十年的生活，完全把人累垮了。我脫去衣褲，當身體裸露出來時我瞧了瞧我的肚子。剖腹產留下一道長長的疤痕，只是我現在身上的汗毛又濃又密，要是不仔細找就不會注意到它。
然後我瞧了一眼手上的那個戒指。
蛇吞吃了它的自己的尾巴，周而復始，……我知道我是從什麼地方來的——可是你們這些僵屍是從哪來的呢？
我覺得一陣頭痛，不過我是不吃頭痛藥粉的。我吃過一次，然後你們就離開了
於是我鑽進床鋪，吹口哨關了燈
你根本就不在那裡。不是別人而是我——珍妮——孤獨地待在這黑暗中。
我非常想你！（完）
Robert A. Heinlein非常著名的短篇小說《行屍走肉》（All You Zombies...），絕對可稱為前無古人後無來者的史上最強「時光旅行」極品！此公或許華人讀者不熟，但在英語科幻界，Heinlein可是與Arthur C. Clarke[2001太空漫遊]和Isaac Asimov[變人]並稱為「The Big Three」的科幻宗師級人物。
Robert A. Heinlein為什麼能被稱為「科幻先生」（Mr. SF）？！研究一下這篇令人頭皮麻詭異到極點的作品就曉得了......
[AITNOG按：《行屍走肉》之小說（英語原文/中國譯本）放在後面，如果懶得咀嚼品味，那就直接看看這段《穿梭超時空》（Hyperspace；商周出版，1999）為了替『時光悖論』作解說範例而整理的摘要版吧！]
[!!!!!!!!!!SPOILER WARNING!!!!!!!!!!]
一九四五年，一位來路不明的女嬰被棄置在克里夫蘭的一所孤兒院。「珍」在孤獨和落寞中長大，不知道她的親生父母是誰，直到一九六三年的某日，她莫名其妙地愛上一位流浪漢。正當珍的際遇開始好轉時，災禍卻接踵而至。她懷了流浪漢的孩子，流浪漢卻不見蹤影。在複雜的生產手術中，醫生赫然發現珍有兩套性器官。為了拯救珍的生命，他們只好為珍進行變性手術，讓「她」變成「他」。最後，一位神秘的陌生人，從產房中綁走了她的孩子。
經歷了這些打擊，被社會排斥，被命運嘲笑的「他」，變成了一位酒鬼和流浪漢。珍不但失去了雙親和愛人，連自己的孩子也失去了。到了一九七０年，他走進冷清的「老爹酒吧」，向一位老酒保說出他悲哀的一生。酒保答應幫他報復對「她」始亂終棄的陌生人，條件是他必須參加「時間旅行團」。他們兩人進入時間機器，酒保將流浪漢留在一九六三年。流浪漢莫名其妙地愛上一位年輕的孤兒，後來讓她懷孕了。
酒保繼續前進九個月，從醫院綁走女嬰，將女嬰棄置於一九四五年的一所孤兒院。後來酒保將流浪漢帶到一九八五年，成為「時間旅行團」的一員。流浪漢終於開始過著穩定的生活，成為「時間旅行團」中一位受人尊敬的老會員。後來他化身為一位酒保，接下最棘手的任務：和命運的約會，在一九七０年的「老爹酒館」和一位流浪漢碰面。
問題是：誰是珍的父、母、祖父、祖母、兒子、女兒、孫子和孫女？當然了，小女孩、流浪漢和酒保都是同一個人。這些矛盾足以讓你暈頭轉向，讓你搞不清楚珍的出身。從珍的祖譜看來，所有分枝最後都回到原點。她居然是自己的父母！她就是整個家族。
[AITNOG按：怎樣？！比《12 Monkeys》還詭異唄...過去、現在、未來不但早已注定不能更改，整個事件根本就是因果交錯，毫無來頭...每次看完都覺得毛骨悚然！！！海萊因不愧是一代科幻大師！！！]
----------------------------------------
《All You Zombies...》[英語原文；網路完整版]--By Robert A. Heinlein
----------------------------------------
2217 -- TIME ZONE V (EST) -- 7 Nov 1970 -- NYC -- "Pop's Place": I was polishing a brandy snifter when the Unmarried Mother came in. I noted the time -- 10.17 P.M. zone five or eastern time November 7th, 1970. Temporal agents always notice time & date; we must.
The Unmarried Mother was a man twenty-five years old, no taller than I am, immature features and a touchy temper. I didn't like his looks -- I never had -- but he was a lad I was here to recruit, he was my boy. I gave him my best barkeep's smile.
Maybe I'm too critical. He wasn't swish; his nickname came from what he always said when some nosy type asked him his line: "I'm an unmarried mother." If he felt less than murderous he would add: " -- at four cents a word. I write confession stories."
If he felt nasty, he would wait for somebody to make something of it. He had a lethal style of in-fighting, like a female cop -- one reason I wanted him. Not the only one.
He had a load on and his face showed that he despised people more than usual. Silently I poured a double shot of Old Underwear and left the bottle. He drank, poured another.
I wiped the bar top. "How's the 'Unmarried Mother' racket?"
His fingers tightened on the glass and he seemed about to throw it at me; I felt for the sap under the bar. In temporal manipulation you try to figure everything, but there are so many factors that you never take needless risks.
I saw him relax that tiny amount they teach you to watch for in the Bureau's training school. "Sorry," I said. "Just asking, 'How's business?' Make it 'How's the weather?'"
He looked sour. "Business is O.K. I write 'em, they print 'em, I eat."
I poured myself one, leaned toward him. "Matter of fact," I said, "you write a nice stick -- I've sampled a few. You have an amazingly sure touch with the woman's angle."
It was a slip I had to risk; he never admitted what pennames he used. But he was boiled enough to pick up only the last. "'Woman's angle!'" he repeated with a snort. "Yeah, I know the woman's angle. I should."
"So?" I said doubtfully. "Sisters?"
"No. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Now, now," I answered mildly, "bartenders and psychiatrists learn that nothing is stranger than the truth. Why, son, if you heard the stories I do -- well, you'd make yourself rich. Incredible."
"You don't know what 'incredible' means!"
"So? Nothing astonishes me. I've always heard worse."
He snorted again. "Want to bet the rest of the bottle?"
"I'll bet a full bottle." I placed one on the bar.
"Well -- " I signaled my other bartender to handle the trade. We were at the far end, a single-stool space that I kept private by loading the bar top by it with jars of pickled eggs and other clutter. A few were at the other end watching the fights and somebody was playing the juke box -- private as a bed where we were. "O.K.," he began, "to start with, I'm a bastard."
"I mean it," he snapped. "My parents weren't married."
"Still no distinction," I insisted. "Neither were mine."
"When -- " He stopped, gave me the first warm look I ever saw on him. "You mean that?"
"I do. A one-hundred-percent bastard. In fact," I added, "No one in my family ever marries. All bastards."
"Don't try to top me -- you're married." He pointed at my ring.
"Oh, that." I showed it to him. "It just looks like a wedding ring; I wear it to keep women off." That ring is an antique I bought in 1985 from a fellow operative -- he had fetched it from pre-Christian Crete. "The Worm Ouroboros...the World Snake that eats its own tail, forever without end. A symbol of the Great Paradox."
He barely glanced at it. "If you're really a bastard, you know how it feels. When I was a little girl -- "
"Wups!" I said. "Did I hear you correctly?"
"Who's telling this story? When I was a little girl -- Look, ever hear of Christine Jorgenson? Or Roberta Cowell?"
"Uh, sex change cases? You're trying to tell me -- "
"Don't interrupt or swelp me, I won't talk. I was a foundling, left at an orphanage in Cleveland in 1945 when I was a month old. When I was a little girl, I envied kids with parents. Then, when I learned about sex -- and, believe me, Pop, you learn fast in an orphanage -- "
"I know."
"I made a solemn vow that any kid of mine would have both a pop and a mom. It kept me 'pure,' quite a feat in that vicinity -- I had to learn to fight to manage it. Then I got older and realized I stood darned little chance of getting married -- for the same reason I hadn't been adopted." He scowled. "I was horse-faced and buck-toothed, flat-chested and straight-haired."
"You don't look any worse than I do."
"Who cares how a barkeep looks? Or a writer? But people wanting to adopt pick little blue-eyed golden-haired morons. Later on, the boys want bulging breasts, a cute face, and an Oh-you-wonderful-male manner." He shrugged. "I couldn't compete. So I decided to join the W.E.N.C.H.E.S."
"Eh?"
"Women's Emergency National Corps, Hospitality & Entertainment Section, what they now call 'Space Angels' -- Auxiliary Nursing Group, Extraterrestrial Legions."
I knew both terms, once I had them chronized. Although we now use still a third name; it's that elite military service corps: Women's Hospitality Order Refortifying & Encouraging Spacemen. Vocabulary shift is the worst hurdle in time-jumps -- did you know that "service station" once meant a dispensary for petroleum fractions? Once on an assignment in the Churchill Era a woman said to me, "Meet me at the service station next door" -- which is not what it sounds; a "service station" (then) wouldn't have a bed in it.
He went on: "It was when they first admitted you can't send men into space for months and years and not relieve the tension. You remember how the wowsers screamed? -- that improved my chances, volunteers were scarce. A gal had to be respectable, preferably virgin (they liked to train them from scratch), above average mentally, and stable emotionally. But most volunteers were old hookers, or neurotics who would crack up ten days off Earth. So I didn't need looks; if they accepted me, they would fix my buck teeth, put a wave in my hair, teach me to walk and dance and how to listen to a man pleasingly, and everything else -- plus training for the prime duties. They would even use plastic surgery if it would help -- nothing too good for Our Boys.
"Best yet, they made sure you didn't get pregnant during your enlistment -- and you were almost certain to marry at the end of your hitch. Same way today, A.N.G.E.L.S. marry spacers -- they talk the language.
"When I was eighteen I was placed as a 'mother's helper.' This family simply wanted a cheap servant but I didn't mind as I couldn't enlist till I was twenty-one. I did housework and went to night school -- pretending to continue my high school typing and shorthand but going to a charm class instead, to better my chances for enlistment.
"Then I met this city slicker with his hundred dollar bills." He scowled. "The no-good actually did have a wad of hundred dollar bills. He showed me one night, told me to help myself.
"But I didn't. I liked him. He was the first man I ever met who was nice to me without trying to take my pants off. I quit night school to see him oftener. It was the happiest time of my life.
"Then one night in the park my pants did come off."
He stopped. I said, "And then?"
"And then nothing! I never saw him again. He walked me home and told me he loved me -- and kissed me good-night and never came back." He looked grim. "If I could find him, I'd kill him!"
"Well," I sympathized, "I know how you feel. But killing him -- just for doing what comes naturally -- hmm...Did you struggle?"
"Huh? What's that got to do with it?"
"Quite a bit. Maybe he deserves a couple of broken arms for running out on you, but -- "
"He deserves worse than that! Wait till you hear. Somehow I kept anyone from suspecting and decided it was all for the best. I hadn't really loved him and probably would never love anybody -- and I was more eager to join the W.E.N.C.H.E.S. than ever. I wasn't disqualified, they didn't insist on virgins. I cheered up.
"It wasn't until my skirts got tight that I realized."
"Pregnant?"
"The bastard had me higher'n a kite! Those skinflints I lived with ignored it as long as I could work -- then kicked me out and the orphanage wouldn't take me back. I landed in a charity ward surrounded by other big bellies and trotted bedpans until my time came.
"One night I found myself on an operating table, with a nurse saying, 'Relax. Now breathe deeply.'
"I woke up in bed, numb from the chest down. My surgeon came m. 'How do you feel?' he says cheerfully.
"'Like a mummy.'
"'Naturally. You're wrapped like one and full of dope to keep you numb. You'll get well -- but a Caesarian isn't a hangnail.'
"'Caesarian?' " I said, 'Doc -- did I lose the baby?'
"'Oh, no. Your baby's fine.'
"'Oh. Boy or girl?'
"'A healthy little girl. Five pounds, three ounces.'
"I relaxed. It's something, to have made a baby. I told myself I would go somewhere and tack 'Mrs.' on my name and let the kid think her papa was dead -- no orphanage for my kid!
"But the surgeon was talking. 'Tell me, uh -- ' He avoided my name. ' -- did you ever think your glandular setup was odd?'
"I said, 'Huh? Of course not. What are you driving at?'
"He hesitated. 'I'll give you this in one dose, then a hypo to let you sleep off your jitters. You'll have 'em.'
"'Why?' I demanded.
"'Ever hear of that Scottish physician who was female until she was thirty-five? -- then had surgery and became legally and medically a man? Got married. All okay.'
"'What's that got to do with me?'
"'That's what I'm saying. You're a man.'
"I tried to sit up. 'What?'
"'Take it easy. When I opened you, I found a mess. I sent for the Chief of Surgery while I got the baby out, then we held a consultation with you on the table -- and worked for hours to salvage what we could. You had two full sets of organs, both immature, but with the female set well enough developed that you had a baby. They could never be any use to you again, so we took them out and rearranged things so that you can develop properly as a man.' He put a hand on me. 'Don't worry. You're young, your bones will readjust, we'll watch your glandular balance -- and make a fine young man out of you.'
"I started to cry. 'What about my baby?'
"'Well, you can't nurse her, you haven't milk enough for a kitten. If I were you, I wouldn't see her -- put her up for adoption.'
"'No!'
"He shrugged. 'The choice is yours; you're her mother -- well, her parent. But don't worry now; we'll get you well first.'
"Next day they let me see the kid and I saw her daily -- trying to get used to her. I had never seen a brand-new baby and had no idea how awful they look -- my daughter looked like an orange monkey. My feeling changed to cold determination to do right by her. But four weeks later that didn't mean anything."
"Eh?"
"She was snatched."
"'Snatched?'"
The unmarried mother almost knocked over the bottle we had bet. "Kidnapped -- stolen from the hospital nursery!" He breathed hard. "How's that for taking the last thing a man's got to live for?"
"A bad deal," I agreed. "Let's pour you another. No clues?"
"Nothing the police could trace. Somebody came to see her, claimed to be her uncle. While the nurse had her back turned, he walked out with her."
"Description?"
"Just a man, with a face-shaped face, like yours or mine." He frowned. "I think it was the baby's father. The nurse swore it was an older man but he probably used make-up. Who else would swipe my baby? Childless women pull such stunts -- but whoever heard of a man doing it?"
"What happened to you then?"
"Eleven more months of that grim place and three operations. In four months I started to grow a beard; before I was out I was shaving regularly...and no longer doubted that I was male." He grinned wryly. "I was staring down nurses' necklines."
"Well," I said, "seems to me you came through okay. Here you are, a normal man, making good money, no real troubles. And the life of a female is not an easy one."
He glared at me. "A lot you know about it!"
"So?"
"Ever hear the expression 'a ruined woman'?"
"Mmm, years ago. Doesn't mean much today."
"I was as ruined as a woman can be; that bastard really ruined me -- I was no longer a woman...and I didn't know how to be a man."
"Takes getting used to, I suppose."
"You have no idea. I don't mean learning how to dress, or not walking into the wrong rest room; I learned those in the hospital. But how could I live? What job could I get? Hell, I couldn't even drive a car. I didn't know a trade; I couldn't do manual labor -- too much scar tissue, too tender.
"I hated him for having ruined me for the W.E.N.C.H.E.S., too, but I didn't know how much until I tried to join the Space Corps instead. One look at my belly and I was marked unfit for military service. The medical officer spent time on me just from curiosity; he had read about my case.
"So I changed my name and came to New York. I got by as a fry cook, then rented a typewriter and set myself up as a public stenographer -- what a laugh! In four months I typed four letters and one manuscript. The manuscript was for Real Life Tales and a waste of paper, but the goof who wrote it, sold it. Which gave me an idea; I bought a stack of confession magazines and studied them." He looked cynical. "Now you know how I get the authentic woman's angle on an unmarried-mother story...through the only version I haven't sold -- the true one. Do I win the bottle?"
I pushed it toward him. I was upset myself, but there was work to do. I said, "Son, you still want to lay hands on that so-and-so?"
His eyes lighted up -- a feral gleam.
"Hold it!" I said. "You wouldn't kill him?"
He chuckled nastily. "Try me."
"Take it easy. I know more about it than you think I do. I can help you. I know where he is."
He reached across the bar. "Where is he?"
I said softly, "Let go my shirt, sonny -- or you'll land in the alley and we'll tell the cops you fainted." I showed him the sap.
He let go. "Sorry. But where is he?" He looked at me. "And how do you know so much?"
"All in good time. There are records -- hospital records, orphanage records, medical records. The matron of your orphanage was Mrs. Fetherage -- right? She was followed by Mrs. Gruenstein -- right? Your name, as a girl, was 'Jane' -- right? And you didn't tell me any of this -- right?"
I had him baffled and a bit scared. "What's this? You trying to make trouble for me?"
"No indeed. I've your welfare at heart. I can put this character in your lap. You do to him as you see fit -- and I guarantee that you'll get away with it. But I don't think you'll kill him. You'd be nuts to -- and you aren't nuts. Not quite."
He brushed it aside. "Cut the noise. Where is he?"
I poured him a short one; he was drunk but anger was offsetting it. "Not so fast. I do something for you -- you do something for me."
"Uh...what?"
"You don't like your work. What would you say to high pay, steady work, unlimited expense account, your own boss on the job, and lots of variety and adventure?"
He stared. "I'd say, 'Get those goddam reindeer off my roof!' Shove it, Pop -- there's no such job."
"Okay, put it this way: I hand him to you, you settle with him, then try my job. If it's not all I claim -- well, I can't hold you."
He was wavering, the last drink did it. "When d'yuh d'liver 'im?" he said thickly.
"If it's a deal -- right now!"
He shoved out his hand. "It's a deal!"
I nodded to my assistant to watch both ends, noted the time -- 2300 -- started to duck through the gate under the bar -- when the juke box blared out: "I'm My Own Granpaw!" The service man had orders to load it with old Americana and classics because I couldn't stomach the "music" of 1970, but I hadn't known that tape was in it. I called out, "Shut that off! Give the customer his money back." I added, "Storeroom, back in a moment," and headed there with my Unmarried Mother following.
It was down the passage across from the johns, a steel door to which no one but my day manager and myself had a key; inside was a door to an inner room to which only I had a key. We went there.
He looked blearily around at windowless walls. "Where is 'e?"
"Right away." I opened a case, the only thing in the room; it was a U.S.F.F. Co-ordinates Transformer Field Kit, series 1992, Mod. II -- a beauty, no moving parts, weight twenty-three kilos fully charged, and shaped to pass as a suitcase. I had adjusted it precisely earlier that day; all I had to do was to shake the metal net which limits the transformation field.
Which I did. "Wha's that?" he demanded.
"Time machine," I said and tossed the net over us. "Hey!" he yelled and stepped back. There is a technique to this; the net has to be thrown so that the subject will instinctively step back onto the metal mesh, then you close the net with both of you inside completely -- else you might leave shoe soles behind or a piece of foot, or scoop up a slice of floor. But that's all the skill it takes. Some agents con a subject into the net; I tell the truth and use that instant of utter astonishment to flip the switch. Which I did.
1030 -- V -- 3 April 1963 -- Cleveland, Ohio -- Apex Bldg.: "Hey!" he repeated. "Take this damn thing off!"
"Sorry," I apologized and did so, stuffed the net into the case, closed it. "You said you wanted to find him."
"But -- You said that was a time machine!"
I pointed out a window. "Does that look like November? Or New York?" While he was gawking at new buds and spring weather, I reopened the case, took out a packet of hundred dollar bills, checked that the numbers and signatures were compatible with 1963. The Temporal Bureau doesn't care how much you spend (it costs nothing) but they don't like unnecessary anachronisms. Too many mistakes and a general court martial will exile you for a year in a nasty period, say 1974 with its strict rationing and forced labor. I never make such mistakes, the money was okay. He turned around and said, "What happened?"
"He's here. Go outside and take him. Here's expense money." I shoved it at him and added, "Settle him, then I'll pick you up."
Hundred dollar bills have a hypnotic effect on a person not used to them. He was thumbing them unbelievingly as I eased him into the hall, locked him out. The next jump was easy, a small shift in era.
1700 -- V -- 10 March 1964 -- Cleveland -- Apex Bldg.: There was a notice under the door saying that my lease expired next week; otherwise the room looked as it had a moment before. Outside, trees were bare and snow threatened; I hurried, stopping only for contemporary money and a coat, hat and topcoat I had left there when I leased the room. I hired a car, went to the hospital. It took twenty minutes to bore the nursery attendant to the point where I could swipe the baby without being noticed; we went back to the Apex Building. This dial setting was more involved as the building did not yet exist in 1945. But I had precalculated it.
0100 -- V -- 20 Sept 1945 -- Cleveland -- Skyview Motel: Field kit, baby, and I arrived in a motel outside town. Earlier I had registered as "Gregory Johnson, Warren, Ohio," so we arrived in a room with curtains closed, windows locked, and doors bolted, and the floor cleared to allow for waver as the machine hunts. You can get a nasty bruise from a chair where it shouldn't be -- not the chair of course, but backlash from the field.
No trouble. Jane was sleeping soundly; I carried her out, put her in a grocery box on the seat of a car I had provided earlier, drove to the orphanage, put her on the steps, drove two blocks to a "service station" (the petroleum products sort) and phoned the orphanage, drove back in time to see them taking the box inside, kept going and abandoned the car near the motel -- walked to it and jumped forward to the Apex Building in 1963.
2200 -- V -- 24 April 1963 -- Cleveland -- Apex Bldg.: I had cut the time rather fine -- temporal accuracy depends on span, except on return to zero. If I had it right, Jane was discovering, out in the park this balmy spring night, that she wasn't quite as "nice" a girl as she had thought. I grabbed a taxi to the home of those skinflints, had the hackie wait around a corner while I lurked in shadows.
Presently I spotted them down the street, arms around each other. He took her up on the porch and made a long job of kissing her good-night -- longer than I had thought. Then she went in and he came down the walk, turned away. I slid into step and hooked an arm in his. "That's all, son," I announced quietly. "I'm back to pick you up."
"You!" He gasped and caught his breath.
"Me. Now you know who he is -- and after you think it over you'll know who you are...and if you think hard enough, you'll figure out who the baby is...and who I am."
He didn't answer, he was badly shaken. It's a shock to have it proved to you that you can't resist seducing yourself. I took him to the Apex Building and we jumped again.
2300 -- VII -- 12 Aug 1985 -- Sub Rockies Base: I woke the duty sergeant, showed my I.D., told the sergeant to bed him down with a happy pill and recruit him in the morning. The sergeant looked sour but rank is rank, regardless of era; he did what I said -- thinking no doubt, that the next time we met he might be the colonel and I the sergeant. Which can happen in our corps. "What name?" he asked.
I wrote it out. He raised his eyebrows. "Like so, eh? Hmm -- "
"You just do your job, Sergeant." I turned to my companion. "Son, your troubles are over. You're about to start the best job a man ever held -- and you'll do well. I know."
"But -- "
"'But' nothing. Get a night's sleep, then look over the proposition. You'll like it."
"That you will!" agreed the sergeant. "Look at me -- born in 1917 -- still around, still young, still enjoying life." I went back to the jump room, set everything on preselected zero.
2301 -- V -- 7 Nov 1970 -- NYC -- "Pop's Place": I came out of the storeroom carrying a fifth of Drambuie to account for the minute I had been gone. My assistant was arguing with the customer who had been playing "I'm My Own Granpaw!" I said, "Oh, let him play it, then unplug it." I was very tired.
It's rough, but somebody must do it and it's very hard to recruit anyone in the later years, since the Mistake of 1972. Can you think of a better source than to pick people all fouled up where they are and give them well-paid, interesting (even though dangerous) work in a necessary cause? Everybody knows now why the Fizzle War of 1963 fizzled. The bomb with New York's number on it didn't go off, a hundred other things didn't go as planned -- all arranged by the likes of me.
But not the Mistake of '72; that one is not our fault -- and can't be undone; there's no paradox to resolve. A thing either is, or it isn't, now and forever amen. But there won't be another like it; an order dated "1992" takes precedence any year.
I closed five minutes early, leaving a letter in the cash register telling my day manager that I was accepting his offer, so see my lawyer as I was leaving on a long vacation. The Bureau might or might not pick up his payments, but they want things left tidy. I went to the room back of the storeroom and forward to 1993.
2200 -- VII -- 12 Jan 1993 -- Sub Rockies Annex -- HQ Temporal DOL: I checked in with the duty officer and went to my quarters, intending to sleep for a week. I had fetched the bottle we bet (after all, I won it) and took a drink before I wrote my report. It tasted foul and I wondered why I had ever liked Old Underwear. But it was better than nothing; I don't like to be cold sober, I think too much. But I don't really hit the bottle either; other people have snakes -- I have people.
I dictated my report: forty recruitments all okayed by the Psych Bureau -- counting my own, which I knew would be okayed. I was here, wasn't I? Then I taped a request for assignment to operations; I was sick of recruiting. I dropped both in the slot and headed for bed.
My eye fell on "The By-Laws of Time," over my bed:
Never Do Yesterday What Should be Done Tomorrow.
If At Last You Do Succeed, Never Try Again.
A Stitch in Time Saves Nine Billion.
A Paradox May be Paradoctored.
It is Earlier When You Think.
Ancestors Are Just People.
Even Jove Nods.
They didn't inspire me the way they had when I was a recruit; thirty subjective years of time-jumping wears you down. I undressed and when I got down to the hide I looked at my belly. A Caesarian leaves a big scar but I'm so hairy now that I don't notice it unless I look for it.
Then I glanced at the ring on my finger.
The Snake That Eats Its Own Tail, Forever and Ever...I know where I came from -- but where did all you zombies come from?
I felt a headache coming on, but a headache powder is one thing I do not take. I did it once -- and you all went away.
So I crawled into bed and whistled out the light.
You aren't really there at all. There isn't anybody but me -- Jane -- here alone in the dark.
I miss you dreadfully!
----------------------------------------
《行屍走肉》[windywings 重譯版]--[美] 羅伯特‧海萊因
----------------------------------------
1970年11月7日，第5時區（東部標準時間）22：17。紐約市「老爹」酒吧。
我正在擦一支喝白蘭地酒用的矮腳杯時，『未婚媽媽』走了進來。我注意了一下時間：1970年11月7日，第5時區或東部時區下午10點17分。時空探員總是注意著時間和日期；我們必須如此。
『未婚媽媽』是個25歲的男子，個子沒我高，幼稚且暴躁的個性。我不喜歡他，也從未喜歡過他這副德行，不過他是我要招募的伙伴，是我需要的人。我對他投以我酒吧老闆最殷切的笑容。
也許是我太吹毛求疵了。他並不時髦；他的暱稱來自於：每當有些好管閒事的人追問他的行業時，他總是說：『我是個未婚媽媽』，如果興致好一點的話還會加上一句：『…我寫自白書，一個字四分錢。』
如果他情緒惡劣，他會找人來發洩一番。他有一種像是女警近身搏擊的致命風格。——這是我看中他的理由，當然不是唯一的一個。
他心事重重，臉顯的比平常更鄙視人，我默默地倒了雙份的Old Underwear給他，並留下酒瓶。他一口喝完又倒了一杯。
我擦著吧檯「『未婚媽媽』的事業如何？」
他的手指緊握著玻璃杯像是要砸向我，我摸索著吧檯下的木棍。在時空操控下你企圖獲知所有事情，但總是有很多因素讓你不會冒不必要的風險。
我看見他放鬆了一下，局裡的訓練學校就教你如何察言觀色。「抱歉」我說，「只是問問，『生意如何？』就像是『天氣如何？』」
他看起來還是不太高興「生意還OK，我寫了，他們印了，還過的去」
我給自己倒了一杯，探身過去，「事實上，」我說，「你文筆不錯，我挑了幾篇看。你有著以女性觀點來看的令人驚奇的明確格調。
我必須冒點險；他從未承認過他用什麼筆名。不過也許是太激怒了，他只顧及了最後那幾個字。「『女性觀點！』」他嗤之以鼻地重複著。「是的，我懂女性觀點。我應該要懂。」
「是嗎？」我懷疑地說，「是姐妹嗎？」
「不。我就是說了你也不會相信。」
「既然如此，」我溫和地回答，「不論酒保或是神經學者都知道，沒有比真相更稀奇的東西了。聽著，孩子，如果你聽了我的故事，哈，你會發財呢。難以置信。」
「你根本就不懂『難以置信』是什麼意思！」
「是嗎？沒有什麼事會讓我吃驚了。我總是聽到最糟糕的。」
他又哼了一聲。「要不要賭一下瓶裡剩下的酒啊？」
「我願意賭一整瓶酒。」我把一瓶放在吧檯上。
「喂…」我叫了另一個酒保來接手。我們坐到酒吧盡頭的一塊狹小地方，我個人用來堆放一些醃蛋的瓶瓶罐罐和其他的雜物的地方。在酒吧另一端有幾個人在看打架，某個人在玩著自動點唱機——完全沒有人注意這地方。
「好，」他起頭，「先說的是，我是個私生子。」
「這在這不稀奇」我說。
「我是認真的」他急促地說，「我父母並沒有結婚」
「還是沒什麼稀奇」我堅持地說，「我父母也沒有結婚」
「當初…」他停住，給我一個從未見過的溫暖表情「你當真？」
「當真。一個百分之百的私生子。事實上，」我補充道，「我家裡沒有人曾經結過婚。全是私生子。」
「別想騙過我……你就結婚了。」他指著我的戒指。
「噢，這個啊。」我伸手給他看，「它看上去像個結婚戒指；我只是為了避開女人。這只戒指是我在1985年從一個同行那裡買來的古物，他是從西元前的克里特島弄到的。Ouroboros蟲…啃著自己尾巴的世界之蛇，永無止境，一個巨大矛盾的象徵」
他勉強地看了戒指一眼。「如果你真是個私生子，你知道那種感覺。當我還是個小女孩時…」
「哇喔！」我說，「我沒聽錯吧？」
「誰在唬你？當我是個小女孩時，聽過克莉斯汀‧喬根森嗎？或是羅伯特‧科威爾嗎？」
「噢，性別改變？你該不會想告訴我……」
「不要打岔，也不要逼我，不然我就不講了。我是個棄兒，1945年在我剛滿月時被遺棄在克裏夫蘭的一個孤兒院裡。當我是個小女孩時，我嫉妒有父母親的孩子。之後，當我懂得性愛時…相信我，老爹，孤兒院裡學得很快……」
「我明白。」
「我發了一個鄭重的誓言，我的每個孩子都將擁有父親和母親。這讓我十分的『純潔』，在那種環境可稱得上是聖女了——我必須學習怎樣竭力維護這種狀況。後來我長大了並意識到，我失去了結婚的機會——為了同個理由沒人收養我。」他皺眉，「我長著一張馬臉和暴牙，平平的胸脯和直直的頭髮」
「你的樣子不比我糟。」
「誰會在乎一個酒吧老闆長得什麼樣？或者一個作家的長相？可是人們都想要認領那種精緻且金髮碧眼的笨蛋。後來，男孩子們要的是那種漂亮臉蛋，乳房豐滿，還有一副『喔你真是個完美的男性』的態度。」他聳聳肩。「我無法競爭。於是我決定加入W.E.N.C.H.E.S。」
「啊？」
「婦女危機全國總部遊覽分部（Women's Emergency National Corps, Hospitality & Entertainment Section），現在人們稱它作『太空天使』—宇宙軍隊附屬護理組織。
「這兩個團隊我都知道，我曾經把它們記下來過。只是我們現在用的是第三個名稱，就是那個精銳部隊服務團：太空人婦女後援會。在時空跳躍中，詞彙變更是最糟糕的問題…你知道那個『服務站』曾經是指石油分離物的檢測所。有一次我到丘吉爾時代去執行一項任務，一個女子對我說，『在隔壁的服務站裡等我』——這句話可不是聽起來的意思，（那時的）服務站不會放一張床在裡面。
他繼續說下去：「那時他們第一次承認不可能讓人到太空工作幾年幾月而不造成緊張。你記得清教徒是如何尖叫的嗎？——這增進了我的機會，因為自願者很少。少女必須是一個品行端正的，完整的處女（他們要從零開始訓練她們），智力要中上，且情緒穩定。可是大多數的自願者都是些老娼妓，或是離開地球不到十天就會崩潰的神經病人。所以我不需要外表怎樣。如果他們接受我，除了訓練我如何適應主要任務之外，自然會矯正我的暴牙，把我的頭髮燙出波浪，教我走路和跳舞，還有如何愉快地聽男人談話，以及一切的一切。如果需要的話他們甚至會採用整形手術——讓這些男人無可挑剔為止。
「最好的是，他們確保你在服務期間不會懷孕——而且在服役期結束時你幾乎確定可以結婚。跟現在一樣，『天使』嫁給太空人——他們聊的來。
「我十八歲的時後，我被安排成為一個『母親的幫手』。這個家庭只是需要一個便宜的僕人，因為我要到二十一歲才可以服役，所以我也不在意，。我做家務後還去夜校上學—假裝是繼續我在高中時的打字和速記課程，但實際上是去上『魅力課』以增加我服役的機會。
「接著我遇到了那個有著百元大鈔的城市騙子。」他皺眉，「這無賴倒真的有一疊百元鈔票。某天晚上他拿給我看，還說我可以隨意取用。
「不過我沒有拿。我喜歡他。他是我遇到第一個對我好又不想獵取我的男人。為了能更常遇見他，我從夜校退了學。這是我一生中最快樂的時光。
「之後，某天晚上，在公園裡獵捕遊戲開始了。」
他停住。我說，「後來呢？」
「後來什麼也沒有了！我再也沒有見到他。他送我回家，告訴我他愛我和我吻別，然後就再也沒回來了。」他面目猙獰，「如果讓我找到他，我要殺了他！」
「嗯，」我表示同情「我知道你的感覺。不過殺了他——就為了那種必然會發生的事——嗯……你掙扎了嗎？」
「嘿，這有什麼關係？」
「有點關係。他遺棄了你，他活該斷了兩隻手臂，不過……」
「他應當受到更重的懲罰！你聽著。我不至於對任何人都不再信任，但我覺得這樣才是最好的。我並沒有真正愛他，或許我永遠不會愛任何人——而我比以往更迫切地想參加W.E.N.C.H.E.S。我並沒有被取消資格，他們並不堅持一定要處女。我開心起來了。
「直到我的裙子緊了以後我才明白。」
「懷孕？」
「這個私生子讓我意亂心迷，不知怎麼辦才好！這些跟我住在一起的吝嗇鬼只要我還能工作也不來理會——但後來還是把我踢出去了，孤兒院不再收容我了。我進了一家收容了不少『大肚子』的收容所，大腹便便地躺在床上等著那一刻的來臨。」
「某天晚上我醒來發現自己在手術臺上，一個護士對我說：『別緊張。深呼吸。』」
「我醒著躺在床上，胸部以下沒有一點知覺。我的手術醫生走進來『你感覺怎樣？』他高興地說。
『像一個木乃伊』
『這很自然。你被綁成一團還打了足量的麻藥讓你麻痺。你會恢復的——不過剖腹產畢竟跟肉刺不同。』
『剖腹產？』我說，『醫生……孩子死了嗎？』
『噢，不。你的孩子很好。』
『嗯。男孩還是女孩？』
『一個健康的小女孩。5磅3盎司。』
「我放心了。生下孩子多少是一種寬慰。我對自己說，應當到某個地方去，在我名字前面冠上『太太』的稱謂，讓孩子認為她的好爸爸已經死了…我的孩子絕不能去孤兒院！
「我的手術醫生還在說話。『告訴我，嗯……』他避開我的名字。『你有沒有想過你的腺狀組織有些特別？』」
「我說，『啊？當然沒有。你想說什麼？』」
「他猶豫著。『這個藥你一次把它服下，鎮定劑會讓你好好睡一覺。我這就去拿。』
「『為什麼？』我要求要知道。」
「『聽說那個到三十五歲還是個女人的蘇格蘭醫生嗎？……之後她動了術，法律上和醫學上都成了一名男子。結了婚，一切正常。』
『那和我有什麼關係？』
『這就是我要說的。你是個男人。』
「我想坐起來。『什麼？』
『別緊張。在我剖開你的腹部後，我只見一團糟。我一邊把嬰兒取出來一邊要人去找外科主任醫生。我們就在手術臺上替你診察——連續幾個小時，盡我們所能進行挽救。你有兩套完整的器官，都沒有發育成熟，不過女性器官發育得相當完整足以讓你懷有孩子。它們對你已經不會再有用了，所以我們將它們取出來並重新安置了你的內臟，因此你可以正常地發育成為一名男子。』他把一隻手搭在我肩上。『不要擔心。你還年輕，你的骨骼會逐漸適應。我們將觀察你的腺體平衡 ——讓你成為一個出色的年輕人。』
「我開始哭泣。『那我的孩子怎麼辦？』」
『嗯，你不能哺育她。你的奶水連餵一隻小貓都不夠。如果我是你，我就不再見她——交給別人去收養。』
『不！』
「他聳聳肩。『當然由你決定；你是她的母親……嗯，她的父母親。不過現在別擔心；我們先讓你恢復身體。』」
「第二天他們讓我看了孩子，我每天都見到她——我試著熟悉她。我從未見過一個剛出生的嬰兒，也不知道它們看起來這麼可怕——我的女兒看起來像一隻小棕猴。我冷靜下來了，決定好好照顧她。不過，四星期後這已經沒有任何意義了。」
「啊？」
「她被奪走了。」
「奪走？」
『未婚媽媽』幾乎撞倒我們賭的那瓶酒。「被綁架了……從醫院的育嬰室偷走的！」他喘著氣，「把一個人生活的最後一點希望奪去了，這算什麼？」
「太不幸了，」我同意，「讓我再給你倒一杯。沒有一點線索嗎？」
「警察找不到任何線索。某人來探望她，聲稱是她的叔叔。當護士背過身去時他就把她抱走了。」
「他長得什麼樣？」
「一個男子，大眾臉，就像你的或我的臉。」他皺眉說，「我想會不會是孩子的父親。護士卻一口咬定是一個年齡較大的人，不過他很可能化裝過。還有誰會來拐我的孩子？沒有孩子的女人有時會鋌而走險……可是誰聽說過一個男人會作這樣的事？」
「那以後你怎麼樣？」
「我在那鬼地方又待了十一個月，動了三次手術。四個月後我開始長出鬍子。在我離開那裡之前我就經常刮鬍子了……並且不再懷疑自己是個男人。」他咧嘴苦笑了一下，「我開始往護士們的胸口裡看了。」
「嗯，」我說，「看來你順利地挺過來了。現在瞧你，一個正常的男人，能賺錢，沒有真正的麻煩。要是一個女人生活就不那麼容易了。」
他盯著我說，「你知道得很多！」
「所以？」
「聽過『墮落的女人』這種說法嗎？」
「嗯，幾年前聽說過。現在已經沒有多少意義了。」
「我就像一個墮落的女人那樣完全毀了。那個流浪漢確實毀了我……我已不再是個女人……而我卻不知道如何成為一個男人。」
「努力習慣它吧，我想。」
「你根本就不懂。我不是說學會如何穿衣打扮，或是走錯廁所。這些我在醫院就學會了。只是我要如何生活？我可以找到什麼工作？媽的，我甚至不會開車。我 不會任何手藝，不能作勞動工作——我全身各處組織大多動過手術，太虛弱了。
「我也恨他毀了我參加W. E. N. C. H. E. S.的希望。我是到了試著加入太空軍團時才明白事情的嚴重性。只需瞧一眼我的肚子就夠了，我被貼上不適宜服兵役的標籤。那個醫務官僅僅是為好奇才在花時間在我身上，他讀過我的病例。
「於是我換了名字來到了紐約。我先是當一個油炸廚師勉強混混，後來租了一架打字機當起了公共速記員——真是個笑話！在四個月裡我打了四封信和一份手稿。 這份手稿是投給《真人真事》雜誌的，不過是一疊廢紙，可是寫故事的這個小子居然把它賣出去了。這倒讓我產生了一個想法。我買了一大疊自白書雜誌來研讀。」他看起來憤世嫉俗，「現在你明白我在講述一個未婚媽媽的故事時怎麼會有一個道地的女性觀點了……我還保留著這種眼光，真正的眼光，我是不是 贏了這瓶酒？」
我把酒瓶推向他。我有些焦慮不安，事情並沒有完。我說，「孩子，你還想逮住那個負心漢嗎？」
他的眼睛亮起來——一種野性的凶光。
「算了吧！」我說，「你不會殺了他吧？」
他咯咯地笑起來，聲音顯得很淫穢。「試看看啊！」
「慢著。這件事我知道得比你想的還要多。我可以幫你。我知道他在什麼地方。」
他從吧檯另一側伸過來，一把抓住了我，「他在哪裡？」
我輕聲地說，「放開我的襯衫，孩子——要不你會躺在後街。我們會告訴警察你喝醉了。」我揮動了一下棍子。
他鬆了手。「抱歉。他在哪裡？」他看著我，「而且為什麼你會知道得這麼多？」
「碰巧的。我可以看到各種記錄——醫院病例、孤兒院檔案、醫療記錄。你那所孤兒院的護士長是費瑟雷思太太……對吧？她後來由格倫斯坦太太接任……對吧？你的名字，女孩時的名字，是『珍妮』……對吧？而你剛才並沒有告訴我這些……對吧？」
他被我嚇傻了並有幾分畏縮。「什麼意思？你想找我麻煩嗎？」
「沒必要。我是真心地為你著想。我可以把這個人送到你面前。你認為怎樣合適就怎樣處置他——而我保證你會叫他滾。不過我不認為你會殺他。如果殺死他你就是個傻瓜——你不是傻瓜。根本不傻。」
他沒有心思聽這些。「別瞎說了。他在哪裡？」
我給他添了一點酒。他醉了，不過憤怒壓過了醉意。「別這麼急嘛。我為你做件事——你也為我做件事。」
「嗯……什麼事？」
「你不喜歡你的工作。要是有一個工作，薪資高，工作穩定，開支不受限制，自己能獨立做主，同時又富於變化和冒險，你會怎麼說？」
他睜大眼睛。「我會說，『少來那一套天方夜譚！』去你的，老爹——根本沒有這種工作。」
「那麼，這樣說吧：我把他交給你，你料理他，然後試試我的工作。如果不像我說的……那好，那就隨你便了。」
他在身體在晃動，是最後那杯酒的緣故。「啥時..去..找他」他口齒不清地說
「如果成交……就是現在！」
他晃著手：「成交！」
我向助手點頭示意收拾殘局，記下了時間：23：00——開始低身穿過吧檯下的門——這時自動點唱機高聲放出《I’m My Own Grandpaw! 》的歌曲。因為我不喜歡1970年的“音樂”，我叫服務員在點唱機上裝上美國老歌和古典音樂，可是我不知道那捲錄音帶還在裡面。我叫道，「關掉它！把那個顧客的錢退回去。」我加上一句，「我去儲藏室，馬上就回來」直接往裡頭走去，『未婚媽媽』跟在後面。
沿著走廊走到底拐過廁所後就是儲藏室，房間有著一扇鐵門，除了我的日班經理和我自己以外沒人有鑰匙。裡面有一扇門通往內間，只有我才有鑰匙。我們走向那裡。
他朦朧地地望著沒有窗戶的牆壁：「他在哪？」
「馬上。」我打開一個箱子，這是房間裡唯一的東西。這是一部美國製造的92系列Ⅱ型外攜式座標式變換器——美觀、俐落，全重21公斤，外型設計得正好放入手提箱。前幾天我才剛調整好，我所需做的只是晃動即限制變換場的金屬網。
我這麼做了。「這是什麼？」他問道。
「時光機器。」我說著並把金屬網拋出。
「哎！」他大叫倒退了一步。這裡有一種技術，金屬網必須拋出使實驗對象本能地倒退而踏在網上，然後把已經完全包圍著你們的金屬網束起——不然的話，你也許會遺留下一隻鞋或一隻腳，或者是刮起一塊地板。當然這種技法說穿了也沒什麼了不起。有些探員；連哄帶騙地把實驗對象弄進網裡。我卻告訴他們實話，利用對方極度驚訝的瞬間而啟動機關。就是我做的事。
1963年4月3日，第5時區10：30。克里夫蘭，『俄亥俄之頂』大樓。
「哎！」他又喊了一次，「把這該死的東西拿掉！」
「抱歉，」我向他道歉並收起金屬網，將它收進手提箱，並且關上。「你說你想找到他的。」
「可是……你說的這是一部時間機器！」
我指指窗外。「這裡看上去像11月嗎？或像是紐約？」在他痴呆地看著嫩芽和春天的景色時，我又打開了提箱，拿出一疊百元面額的美鈔，確認了一下鈔票的編號和戳記都符合1963年。時空管理局並不在乎你花了多少（這與它無關），不過他們並不喜歡不必要的年代錯誤。若是你犯了太多這樣的錯誤，一個將軍級的軍事法庭會把你流放到一個惡劣的年代去待上一年，譬如說嚴格食品配給和強制勞動的1974年。我從來沒有犯過這類錯誤，這些錢沒有問題。
他回頭問我：「發生了什麼事？」
「他在這裡。到外面去找他。這是給你花的錢。」我塞給他時又補了一句，「和他了斷，然後我會來接你。」
成疊的百元鈔對於一個不習慣它們的人，有一種催眠的效應。我把他送進了大廳，鎖在門外時，他還一副不可置信地捏著那一疊鈔票。下一步的時空跳躍太容易了，只是在同一時代的小小的移動。
1964年3月10日，第5時區17：00。『克里夫蘭之頂』大樓。
門的下方有一個通知，說我的租約下週到期，除此之外這個房間看上去與剛才的並無兩樣。外面，樹木光禿禿的，天空像要下雪的樣子。我必須趕快，僅停留片刻，取走我租房間留下的現金、上衣、帽子和大衣。我招了一部車到醫院去。我花了二十分鐘才把育嬰室的看護弄得不耐煩，我才可以趁她不注意偷走嬰兒。我們回到『克里夫蘭之頂』大樓。這種刻度盤的時間裝置更為複雜，因為大樓在1945年時還不存在。不過我預計到了。
1945年9月20日，第5時區01：00。克里夫蘭『空景』汽車旅館。
時間機器，嬰兒和我都到了城外的一家汽車旅館。早些時候我就以“俄亥俄州沃倫市的喬治‧強森”登記了。於是我們來到了一個窗簾拉上、窗戶和房門封鎖的房間。 地板也進行了清理使其能夠承受機器的不規則的震動。你的身體可能會撞上一張原不該在那裡的椅子而出現一塊令人不快的瘀青——當然並非椅子，而是變換場能量的衝擊。
一切順利。珍妮正在熟睡著。我把她抱出來，放在我事先放置在汽車座位上的雜貨箱裡，開車到孤兒院。我把她放在臺階上，開過兩條街來到一個『服務站』（石油製造類），打個電話給孤兒院。在我開車回來途中正好看見孤兒院的人把雜貨箱拿進去。繼續開了一陣，把汽車遺棄在汽車旅館附近，走回汽車旅館後就時空跳躍到1963 年的『克里夫蘭之頂』大樓。
1963年4月24日，第5時區22：00。『克里夫蘭之頂』大樓。
我把時間劃分得十分仔細——時間的精確性取決於跨度，除了你是回到起始點之外。如果我是正確的話，在這宜人的春天夜晚，珍妮在公園裡發現，她並非像她以前所想的那樣是個好女孩。我攔了一輛計程車到那些吝嗇鬼的住處，我讓司機在轉角等著，自己則藏在陰影處。
很快我發現他們走在街上，手勾著手。在門口他摟住她，親吻她並祝她晚安——時間超乎我想像的長。然後她走進屋去，而他轉身走上人行道。我滑進臺階架住他的胳膊。「結束了，孩子，」我平靜地說，“「我來接你回去。」
「你！」他嚇了一跳，喘著氣說。
「我。現在你知道他是誰了——而且你仔細想過以後，你就會明白你是誰……而且如果你再好好想想，你會猜出這嬰兒是誰……還有我是誰。」
他沒有回答，渾身顫抖。當事實證明你無法抗拒誘惑你自己的話是一個很大的震撼。我帶他去『克里夫蘭之頂』大樓，再次進行時空跳躍。
1985年8月12日，第5時區23：00。洛基總部。
我叫醒值班軍士，出示我的識別證，告訴軍士給我的同伴快樂丸好好地睡下，第二天早晨徵召他。軍士的表情很難看，不過軍階就是軍階，與時代無關。他照我所說的做了——毫無疑問地，下次我們相遇時他可能是上校而我是軍士。在我們的軍營裡是有可能的。「他叫什麼名字？」他問。
我寫給他。他的眉毛揚了起來。「這樣的人，嗯？這……」
「你只要作你該作的工作，軍士。」我轉身面對我的同伴
「孩子，你的麻煩已經結束了。你就要開始從事一個男人所能擁有的最好工作——你會作好的。我知道。」
「可是……」
「沒那麼多『可是』。好好睡一覺。然後考慮一下這個建議。你會喜歡它的。」
「你一定會的！」軍士表示同意。「瞧我——生於1917年——仍然健壯、年輕、享受生活。」我回到時空跳躍的房間，把一切撥到預置的零點上。
1970年11月7日，第5時區23：01。紐約市“老爹”酒吧。
我從儲藏室走出來，拿了1/5桶的蘇格蘭制威士忌利喬酒，算是說明我離去的那一分鐘。我的助手還在與那個點播《I’m My Own Grand-paw》的顧客爭辯。我說，「算了，讓他放吧，放完後就關掉。」我已十分疲倦。
這種工作的確很艱辛，可是總要有人來做。自從1972年的變故之後，這幾年要招募到人是很困難的。你能想到有比，從腐敗的人群中挑選人並給他們高薪資、有趣（即使危險）且必要的工作，更好的資源嗎？現在大家都知道為什麼1963年的失敗戰失敗了，在紐約的炸彈數量還沒完全消除，數以百計的其他東西尚未如計畫的撤離—都是由像我這樣的人安排的。
但不是72年的變故；那不是我們的錯—--而且不能再從來一次；沒有矛盾可以再被重新解析。事情不是對就是錯，從今以後。不過以後不會再有一樣的事情發生，秩序化的日期『1992』有先於任何年份的一切優先權。
我提前五分鐘關店，在收銀機上留下一封信給我的日班經理，說我準備接受他的建議，放鬆一下。在我長期度假時他可以去找我的律師。局裡或許不會在意他們的收入，不過他們要的是事情必須井井有條。我來到儲藏室裡面的那個房間，跳躍到1993年。
1993年1月12日，第7時區22：00。洛基地下城附設時空勞工總部。
我向值勤官出示了證件登入後，來到我的住處，打算睡它一個星期，在寫報告前我抓起我們下賭的那瓶酒（不管怎麼說，我贏得了它）喝了一杯。酒的味道太糟了，我奇怪以往前怎麼會喜歡上Old Underwear。不過有總比沒有好，我不想像一根木頭那樣清醒著，我思考得太多了。不過我也沒有真的打破瓶子；其他人養蛇，我養人。
我口述了我的報告；為太空軍團進行的四十次招募活動都得到了局裡的批准——包括我自己的這次，我知道會被批准的。我現在回來了，不是嗎？接著我用錄音帶錄製下次任務的程序；我對招募活動感到厭倦了。我把它們丟在一邊並走向床去。
我的目光落在床頭上方的《時間準則》上：
永遠不要把明天要做的事搬到昨天去做。
如果你終於成功了，永遠不要再次嘗試。
及時的一秒勝過事後九億秒。
似是而非的事可以用似是而非的方法來處置。
你想到的時候事情已經發生了。
祖宗也是凡人。
真神也有瞌睡時。
他們不像當時我是個新兵一樣的激勵我了，身不由己的時空跳躍三十年的生活，完全把人累垮了。我脫去衣褲，當身體裸露出來時我瞧了瞧我的肚子。剖腹產留下一道長長的疤痕，只是我現在身上的汗毛又濃又密，要是不仔細找就不會注意到它。
然後我瞧了一眼手上的那個戒指。
蛇吞吃了它的自己的尾巴，周而復始，……我知道我是從什麼地方來的——可是你們這些僵屍是從哪來的呢？
我覺得一陣頭痛，不過我是不吃頭痛藥粉的。我吃過一次，然後你們就離開了
於是我鑽進床鋪，吹口哨關了燈
你根本就不在那裡。不是別人而是我——珍妮——孤獨地待在這黑暗中。
我非常想你！（完）
全站熱搜
留言列表
【祕密結社修卡】 (5)
