2017-07-26

【Aiden in English】

        “Stevie, can you please hurry up? Dinner’s almost ready, and you still need to clean yourself.”

        “Alright, yeah, yeah. I’m coming Ma,” an exasperated Steven replied. He always felt a slight twinge of annoyance when his mother called him sweetie. Besides, he had just turned nineteen a few months ago.

        “I’m on my way,” gasped Steven, clinging to a tree in order to stay upright. He had finished his daily jobs for the yard behind his house only moments ago. A very, very large yard behind his house. Twenty-three acres and three quarters, to be exact.

        He and his mother lived on a family-owned farm. An ordinary farm, much unlike his name, of course. They lived alone, out in the far, far middle of nowhere, 112 Shevolds Lane, Mickelson Township, Nebraska, home of the Lincoln Saltdogs baseball team. Not that he ever watched sports, as there was barely enough reception to listen to nightly radio. They were completely isolated from the outside world with an exception of a dirt path cutting through the endless miles.

        “Heyo, Stevie-sweetie, Mama’s growing some good bit of grey hairs over here waiting for ya’. Why don’t you ever hug me like you’re hugging that tree right now?”

        Steven, lips curling the slightest, slowly trotted to the back porch. Today was a particularly grueling day for him, having to spray most of the bug repellent to account for the high population of pests this year. Nothing out of the ordinary, however, for Steven, as he has, since a little boy, tended this farm. Early in the morning, he would wake and finish more physical work. Noon, he would take a brief nap, and only to awake late in the afternoon to perhaps some tilling or pest control. The next day would mirror the previous, and so on, rinse and repeat. 

        So what was the difference between today, the twenty-sixth of July, 2017, and tomorrow, the twenty-seventh? This question, a simple question, flew through Steven’s mind every single day. If life is a repeating cycle, why value it? What is the purpose of today, if today is just going to be like yesterday? Or like tomorrow?

        Steven asked himself over and over again that night, staring up at the wooden ceiling of his bedroom. The same wood he saw yesterday, in the same position, at the same time. And like the day before. Just like those previous days, he fell asleep, thinking about through and through again. Eventually, it boiled down to a much simpler question: What even was the point of living?

        The next morning, Mrs. McDean called down Steven, precisely seven o’clock sharp. He groggily walked downstairs to find his mother washing the pans and a plate of eggs and bacon, freshly fried moments ago. Sitting down, Steven grabbed the salt shaker, turning the crank two and a half revolutions, exactly the same every day.

        Perhaps today was going to be different, Steven thought. Then again, he always felt this way every day. But Steven, after eighteen straight, repetitive, simple years, had come to hate the feeling of monotony. He desperately wanted to change. With that in mind, Steven openly expressed his thoughts.

        “H-hey, uh, Mother, can I ask you a question?”

        “Sweetie, you just did,” she answered, rolling her eyes.

        “Well, hey, I was wondering, am I going to do this for the rest of my life?”

        Mrs. McDean stopped washing, slightly shifted her head towards Steven. She then smiled. “Oh, my Steven. Have you finally wanted to accept the farm into your ownership?”

        Steven sputtered, “Oh, wait, um, h-hold on-”

        “So you’ve at last found an interest in farming! I knew the day would come when Steven McDean would come to enjoy the wonders of tending crops, feeding pigs, milking c-”

        “No!” Steven shouted, a little more forcefully than anticipated. However, the effect was, well, effective. Mrs. McDean shocked, stopped mid-thought, and stared at what seemed to be the quietest boy on Earth.

        “No, Mother, that’s the problem. How can you live like this, alone in the middle of nowhere, with no one except beings of otherly species, and nothing to do but tend miles and miles of plants?”

        Mrs. McDean sat down with Steven. “Well then, I was not expecting this. I…I always strongly believed that you enjoyed farm life. I, quite frankly, don’t know what to say.”

        Steven felt suddenly horrible. “Ma, you know I don’t mean to be mad at you, but come on, I can’t live on a farm like this.”

        Mrs. McDean took a long, deep breath. “Alright, I understand. But for generations, the McDean family has run this farm. And the farm has supplied us with food for decades. It’s more than just what one generation wants. It’s what the past has given us, and what we will give the future.”

        She took another long, shaky breath. “My parents always said that this farm was more than just essential food and money. This farm was their pride and soul, their honor and glory, and it now too is mine.”

        Then, casting her eyes away, she gave a brief nod, as if giving approval to Steven. “Sweetie, I-I think if this life, um, isn’t what you want, uh, and then you should find your own place in life, regardless of what I think. I always knew that at some point down the line, this farm was going to be lost to our family. And- and if it makes you happy, then…”

        Steven, shocked upon hearing his mother’s reaction, did not have an answer. However, he had already made his decision.

        That was the final conversation he had with his mother. Steven moved to the East Coast, and his mother passed away soon after he left. He sold the farm a year later and began a new chapter of his life.

        Sixty years had passed, and Steven, now with a family of a wife and three children, as well as two grandchildren, was experiencing the future. Technological advances allowed the production of farms to exponentially increase, tended by robots and machines. Vegetables were grown in controlled environments, maximizing seasonal output, far out of human reach. Farms that were run by humans have become non-existent.

        Steven hopped out of his hovercar, walked off the highway into a dense forest. Following an overgrown footpath down into a mysterious piece of greenery, Steven had lost his sense of direction. However, old instincts drove him forward, propelling his legs. He found a two-story, broken-down house with vines creeping around the edges as well as shattered windows and doors. Walking up the front porch, he saw, on the corner of his vision, 112 Shevolds Lane.

        But what caught his eye was a small envelope placed neatly in a basket hanging from the door frame. Magically untouched, Steven opened the seal, revealing a letter with a short phrase.

From my heart and soul to your honor and glory.

【紅霞譯文】

        “史蒂文，勞你麻利點行嗎？晚飯快要做好了，趕緊收拾乾淨。”

        “哎，得嘞，得嘞。媽，我這就過來。” 史蒂文鬱悶地答道，每次聽到母親叫自己寶貝總覺得有點彆扭，畢竟早在幾個月前已滿十九歲。

        “來了，” 史蒂文上氣不接下氣，扶住樹直起身子。剛剛拾掇完後院裡每天該干的營生，那片地盤大的夠嗆，足有23.75英畝。

        他和母親住在自家農場上，當然不像他的名字，這是一個普普通通的農場。他們獨居內布拉斯加州米克爾森鎮曬窩子巷112號，即林肯鹽狗棒球隊所在地，荒郊野外沒多點人煙。他極少聽晚間廣播，更談不上觀看什麼球賽，除了一條無邊無際的土路與外界相通，他們完全與世隔絕。

        “嗨，史蒂文寶寶，媽媽在這裡等得頭髮都發白了，你怎麼不能像摟樹那樣跟媽媽擁抱一下呢？

        史蒂文略微翹起嘴唇，慢慢跑到晾台後面。這會兒他特別累，因為今年蟲害嚴重，所以得噴灑大量殺蟲劑，不過對於史蒂文來說極其常見，自幼以來，自己沒少幹這種活計。一大早，他醒來下地；中午，打個盹眯瞪片刻；下午醒來，要麼耕作要麼噴藥。第二天檢查一下昨個兒干的情況，等等，沖洗後反過頭再來。

        那麼今天也就是2017年7月26日與明天27號有何區別？每天諸如此類的簡單問題都會閃現在史蒂文的腦海，倘若生命周而復始，那麼它的價值何在？假如今天與昨天相似，那麼今天該圖個啥？或像明天呢？

        那天晚上史蒂文瞪着臥室里木製天花板不停地問自己，昨天他呆在同一位置同一時間凝望同一塊木板，前天也是一樣。跟前兩天一樣，他想着想着便睡着了，最後竟然冒出更加簡單的問題：活着有什麼意義？

        第二天早晨七點整，麥克迪恩太太叫史蒂文，他神情恍惚地走下樓，發現母親正在刷鍋和一盤剛剛炸過的雞蛋培根，史蒂文坐下來順手拿起鹽瓶，握住曲柄轉了兩圈半，每天都這樣例行公事。

        史蒂文想，或許今天有所不同。話說回來，他每天都這麼感覺，但經過十八個連續、重複、簡單的歲月之後開始討厭這種單調的感覺，並拼命要去改變。想到這裡，史蒂文公開挑明自己的想法。

        “嘿，呃，母親，我可以問你一個問題嗎？”

        “寶貝，你剛剛問過。”她眨了眨眼，答道。

        “好的，嘿，就想知道，我會在這干一輩子嗎？”

        史蒂文嗑了一聲：“哦，慢點，等等—”

        “你終於對農活感興趣了！我知道一旦史蒂文·麥克迪恩享受種地、養豬、擠—的奧秘，這一天遲早會來。”

        “不！”史蒂文喊道，嗓門比想象的還要大一點，不過效果不錯。麥克迪恩太太嚇了一跳，不再胡思亂想，緊緊盯着眼前這位看似天下最安靜的男孩。

        “不，母親，關鍵問題就出在這裡。你怎麼能獨自生活在茫茫林海闃不見人的地方呢？”

        麥克迪恩太太坐到史蒂文身邊，“那好，我可沒期待這樣，我……我一直堅信你喜歡農場生活，坦率地說，我不清楚講什麼是好。”

        史蒂文突然害怕起來，“媽，你知道我並非故意惹你生氣，但真的，我可不想過這種農場生活。”

        麥克迪恩太太長吁了一口氣，“好吧，我懂了，但麥克迪恩家族經營這個農場已經好多代了，過去幾十年來我們養家糊口，遠非一代人靠它維生，既然它把過去託付給我們，我們要將未來奉獻給它。”

        她又顫抖地深嘆口氣，“我父母總掛在嘴邊，這個農場與其說是必不可少的糧油錢財，不如說是他們的驕傲與靈魂、尊貴與榮耀，如今也是咱的一切。”

        說完她轉開視線，輕輕點了點頭，仿佛默認了史蒂文。“寶貝，我—我覺得如果這種生活，呃，不是你想要的，那麼你就應該在現實中找到自己的位置，而不應顧慮我的想法。我一向清楚咱家農場早晚都會斷送在我們手裡。總之，倘若這麼做稱心如意，那……”

        史蒂文對母親的態度感到吃驚，但不知如何回答。然而，他已經下定決心。

        那是史蒂文最後一次與母親談話，之後搬去東海岸，母親不久便離開人世。一年過後他賣掉農場，重新開始新的生活。

        六十年過去了，史蒂文現在與妻子和仨孩子還有倆兒孫共同體驗未來。隨着人工智能與機械化發展，技術進步促使農作物呈指數增長，蔬菜種植在自動控制溫室里，最大限度地提高季節性產量，是手工勞作無法比擬的，人耕農場已不復存在。

        史蒂文從氣墊車跳下來，穿過高速公路徑直朝密林方向邁進，踏過雜草叢生的小道走入一片神奇的綠坪，史蒂文徹底迷路了，然而他憑着直覺繼續摸索向前，發現一棟兩層樓斷垣殘壁的房子，支離破碎的門窗周圍爬滿了葡萄藤。他走到房前露台，視線邊角處“曬窩子巷112號”映入眼帘。

        但引起他注意的卻是一箋小信封，整齊地擺放在門框上懸掛的籃子裡，竟然奇妙般完好無損。史蒂文打開封印，露出短語一則：

從我的心靈到你的榮耀。

Today in History(歷史上的今天):

2015: 76ers Overnight Camp(費城七六人隊籃球寄宿營)

2013: Drama Camp-5(戲劇夏令營之五)

Crosslinks(相關博文):

2017: Flash Story─Sleep is Bliss(小小說─能睡是福)

2015: Flash Story─Crisis on Mulberry Street(小小說─桑樹街危機)

2011: Flash Story─Halloween(小小說─萬聖節)