Chapter 10 Part Three AD 4000000000

I had a few more fevers, one of which broke the lamp again. This time, Diane managed to outwit the concierge.She bribed the cleaners to bring new sheets to her at the door every morning and replace the dirty ones.This will prevent the maid from coming in to clean the room and discovering that I am delirious with fever and messed up.In the past six months, there have been cases of dengue fever in local hospitals, as well as cholera and human cardiovascular weakness.I don't want to wake up one day and find myself in an epidemic ward with a quarantined patient in the next bed. Diane said: "I was worried what would happen to you in case I wasn't around.

I can still take care of myself. It doesn't work when you have a fever. Then you have to try your luck and see if the timing is a coincidence.Where are you planning to go? Still those places.However, I mean, in case of a temporary emergency, or for some reason, I can't come back. What kind of emergency? I just assume.She shrugged her shoulders, but the tone of her speech was suspicious as if something really happened. ☆ I didn't press her again.Apart from cooperating obediently, there seems to be nothing I can do to improve the current situation. After the injection of the drug, I am now entering the second week, and I am approaching the decisive moment.The Martian drug had built up critical amounts in my blood and tissues.Even after the fever subsided, I still couldn't tell the difference between east, west, north and south, and my consciousness was unclear.And the purely physical side effects are no fun: joint pain, jaundice, rashes.What kind of rash?Imagine the feeling: the skin peeling off layer by layer, and the flesh underneath is bloody like a ripped wound.There were nights when I could only get four or five hours of sleep, with a high of five, and wake up to find myself sleeping on a sticky pile of dander.So, fighting back the excruciating arthritis pain, I moved into the chair next to the bed while Diane cleaned the dander from the blood-stained bed.

Even in my most sane moments, I couldn't believe myself more and more.I often feel that what I see is very clear, only to find out that it is pure hallucination.The world before my eyes seemed too bright, too sharply defined.Words and memory are like uncontrolled engine cogs, twisting madly at each other. I was miserable, but Diane was probably even worse.Sometimes, I became incontinent and Diane had to help me defecate.In fact, she did this as a reward for me.For a while, she had endured the same ordeal, and I was by her side.However, that was many years ago. ☆ At night, she almost always sleeps next to me.I really don't know how she can stand it.Sometimes, the weight of the quilt alone makes me cry out in pain.She was careful to keep a little distance from me, and I almost only vaguely felt her next to me, but that was reassuring enough.

There were some nights when things got really serious.I punched and kicked in agony and probably hit her, it hurt so bad.She had no choice but to run to the balcony door and sleep on the couch printed with flower patterns, curled up in a ball. She didn't tell me much about the situation after a few trips to Padang.However, I probably also know what she is going to do.In order to choose a ship sent by the great arch, she went to the ship's affairs officer and cargo hold officer to get through the joints, and evaluated the price of each ship.This is dangerous work.If there's anything I'm more miserable than the effects of the drugs, it's watching Diane venture out into the red-light districts of Asia and run around the violent black streets.Nothing could protect her but her extraordinary courage and the little can of pepper spray she kept in her pocket.

Even if the danger was unbearable, it was not as terrible as being arrested. Why are they so interested in us?Many reasons.They refer to the secret agents of the U.S. Sarkin government and their accomplices in Jakarta.Of course, what they want is medicine.More importantly, they want digital copies of the few Mars files we have on us.They will gladly torture and wring information out of us.Jason had a long monologue in the final hours before his death.I was there at the time and recorded his conversation.What he told me was the truth about hypothetical intelligent beings and time gyrations.All this, only he knows.

☆ I fell asleep again.When she woke up, she had already gone out. For a whole hour I stared blankly at the fluttering of the balcony curtains and the sunlight slanting upwards on the bases of the great arches.We can only see the foot of the column at this end of the entire arch.I watched while daydreaming.I suddenly thought of the Seychelles. Been to Seychelles?I haven't been there either.The images that came to my mind were from documentaries I had watched on the PBS before.The Seychelles is a tropical island located in the southeast of Africa, more than 1,000 kilometers north of Madagascar. It is the home of tortoises, sea coconuts and more than a dozen rare birds.Geographically, the Seychelles are a remnant of an ancient continent.Long before modern humans evolved, there was an ancient continent connecting Asia and South America.

Diane once said that dreams release the hidden thoughts in our hearts, and dreams are the wildness of metaphor.I guess she was going to tell me that I dreamed of the Seychelles because I felt overwhelmed, old and outdated, almost extinct. I saw what I could have been transformed, and that vision overwhelmed me like a continent submerged in the sea. ☆ I fell asleep again.When she woke up, she still hadn't come back. ☆ I woke up in the dark and found myself still alone in the room.At this time, I finally realized that too much time had passed, and something was wrong.Before, Diane always came back before dark.

I must have been punching and kicking in my sleep again, the quilt falling in a mess on the floor.The stuccoed ceiling reflected the light from the street outside, so dim that I could barely see the quilts on the floor.I was so cold that I couldn't stand it, but I couldn't reach out to grab the quilt back because of the pain. The sky outside was clear and clear.If I grit my teeth and look to the left side, I can see many bright stars outside the glass door of the balcony.I thought wildly in my bitterness. If the time outside the time circle is used to calculate, some stars may be younger than me.

I tried not to think about Diane, where she would be now, if something had happened. I finally fell asleep again.In a trance, I felt the burning starlight penetrate my eyelids, like phosphorescent ghosts floating in the reddish darkness. ☆ Its daybreak. At least I think it should be morning, and the sky outside the window is already bright.Someone knocked on the door twice, said something in Minangkabau in the hallway, as if to ask if anyone was there, and left again.Possibly a maid. Now I'm really worried.With the drug in its current state, the anxiety felt a lot like a rambling rage.What was it that held Diane away for so long, unbearably long?Why isn't she here holding my hand and spongeing my brow?Will she be hurt?I didn't like the idea, wasn't sure, and didn't want to admit it.

However, I'm sure the plastic water bottle next to the bed was empty yesterday, or maybe longer.My lips are so dry they're cracked, and I've forgotten how long it's been since I've limped to the loo.If I don't want both kidneys to fail, I just go to the bathroom faucet to get some water. It's just that, just sitting up from the bed, it's hard not to scream in pain.Pushing my feet up against the mattress was almost unbearably painful, as if my bones and cartilage had been reduced to shattered glass and rusty blades. Although I tried to think of something else to divert my attention (such as the Seychelles and the sky), the confusion caused by the fever made this weak self-anesthesia ineffective.In a trance, I seem to hear Jason talking behind me.Looks like Jason wants me to get him something, a rag, a piece of suede.His hands are so dirty.As a result, when I walked out of the bathroom, instead of a glass of water, I was holding a towel.Why am I so stupid.Again.This time, I took the empty water bottle.I filled the water bottle to the brim.Follow the gourd.

There is a garden storage room behind the big house for gardeners to put their tools.we are inside.I brought him a piece of suede. It was several years before the appearance of time gyrations. In early summer, he was almost twelve years old. Take a sip of water and savor the time.Memories of the past resurfaced in my mind. ☆ On a whim, Jason asked me to fix the mower with him.I was taken aback.That's a gardener's gas-powered lawnmower.The gardener of the big house was a curmudgeonly Belgian named de Meyer who smoked Gaulouis and never left his hand.Whenever we talked to him, he shrugged awkwardly and said nothing.He kept cursing at the mower because it kept smoking and would shut off every few minutes.Why help him?In fact, what Xiaojie is interested in is the kind of mental challenge.He told me that he used to get up after twelve o'clock in the middle of the night to research gasoline engines on the Internet.That ignited his curiosity.He said he would love to see for himself what the inside of the engine looks like, as medical in vivo studies do.I don't know what living body research means, but the more I don't understand, the more interesting it is.I said I'd be happy to help. To be honest, I pretty much just stood by and watched.Jason laid out a dozen sheets of yesterday's Washington Post on the floor, set the mower on top, and began studying.We hid in the tool shed behind the lawn, which had a musty smell, but it was private.There was a bad smell in the air, a mixture of motor oil, gasoline, fertilizer and herbicide.Sod seed and bark mulch leaked from bags of natural pine shelves, scattered among broken mower blades and broken handles all over the floor.We were not allowed to play in the tool shed, the doors were usually locked.Jason got the key from the shelf behind the basement door. It was Friday afternoon, and it was very hot outside. I was happy to nestle inside and watch him busy. In addition to learning a little knowledge, I also had a strange sense of security.At the beginning, he inspected the whole machine, lying flat beside the machine.Patiently he ran his fingers along the metal casing to find the heads of the screws.After finding it, he unscrewed the screws and placed them next to each other in order, then lifted the shell and placed them next to the screws. Next, we will go deep into the inside of the machine.Jason can use a two-way screwdriver and a torque wrench. I don't know where he learned it or was born with it.His actions seemed to be testing, but he didn't hesitate at all.It looked like an artist, or an athlete, with delicacy, confidence, and self-knowledge.He disassembled every part he could touch and arranged them on newspaper like anatomical diagrams.The newspaper was smeared with oil and was pitch black.At this moment, the door slammed open with a sharp creak, and we all jumped up. Edward.Lawton came back early. Damn.I cursed under my breath, Edward.Lawton gave me a hard look.He was wearing a perfectly tailored gray suit, standing at the door, looking at the machines that had been dismantled all over the floor.Jason and I stared at our feet with our heads down, the instinctive guilt of being caught peeking at a loft magazine. Are you fixing the machine, or screwing it up?He finally spoke, with disdain and contempt in his tone.That kind of tone is exactly Edward.Registered trademark of Lawton.He's been good at being sarcastic a long time ago, it's almost second nature to him now. Jason said submissively: Dad, I'm fixing it. Um, is that your lawnmower? Oh, of course not, but Mr. De Meyer should be very happy if Too bad that wasn't M. de Meyer's mower either, was it?Mr. Demeyer has no tools himself and would be living on the dole if I hadn't hired him every summer.That happened to be my lawn mower.Edward stopped talking here, and he didn't speak for a long time, which was unbearable.Then, at last, he spoke again.Did you find out what's wrong? not yet. not yet?Then you better keep looking. It was as if the spell on Jason's body had been lifted suddenly, and he relaxed.He said: Yes, Dad, after dinner I probably You are mistaken.I don't mean after dinner.You take the machine apart, you have to fix the machine and put it back together.When it's done, you can eat.Then, Edward's evasive eyes turned towards me.Taylor, go home.I don't want to see you here again.You should know the rules better yourself. I ran out immediately.The afternoon sun was harsh, and I blinked hard. Afterwards, he never caught me running there again, but only because I avoided him skillfully.I ran back again that night.After ten o'clock, I looked out of the window of my room and saw a light leaking from the crack under the tool room door.I grabbed a chicken leg left over from dinner from the freezer, wrapped it in foil, and scurried there under cover of night.I called to him softly, and he turned off the light just long enough for me to slip in without being seen. He's covered in oil and looks almost like a Maori tattoo.The mower engine is still only half assembled.After he devoured a few mouthfuls of chicken legs, I asked him why it took so long. He said: I can put the machine back in just fifteen minutes, but the machine still doesn't work.The most difficult thing is how to find out where the problem is.To make matters worse, the machines kept getting worse.If I try to clean out the gas line, air will get in, or the hose will burst.No half part is good.The carburetor casing has a very thin crack and I don't know how to fix it.I don't have spare parts, or suitable tools.I don't even know what tool to use.He looked so sad that I thought he might cry. I said: forget it.Go and tell Edward that you are sorry and ask him to deduct your pocket money as compensation.Or name it whatever you want. He looked at me with wide-eyed eyes, as if I had said something astonishing, but ridiculously naive.I dont go.Thanks, Tyler, but I wouldn't do that kind of thing. Why? He didn't answer me.He put the drumsticks aside and went back to face the parts all over the floor, cleaning up the mess he had messed up. When I was about to leave, someone knocked on the door again, very softly.Jason gestured to me to turn off the light, then opened the door a crack to let his sister in.She was obviously afraid that Edward would catch her and come here, and she spoke so quietly that she could hardly hear her.But she, like me, sent something to Jason.Not a chicken leg, but a palm-sized wireless web browser. When Jason saw that thing, his face lit up immediately.He called out: Diane! She shushed him and smiled nervously.Just a little machine.She finished speaking in a soft voice, nodded to us, and then ran away again. After she left, Jason said: She is more expert, and the small machine is really not important.What really works is the Internet.What she gave me was not this little machine, but the Internet. In less than an hour, he had consulted a large number of programmers in the West Bank on the Internet.Those are the people who specially improve the small engine for the remote control robot competition.Before midnight, he had fixed a dozen minor problems with the mower, and it was working for now.So I left.I sneaked into the house and then saw him from the window of the room calling for his father.Edward staggered out of the big house.He was wearing pajamas over an unbuttoned flannel shirt.He folded his arms over his chest and watched Jason start the mower.The loud noise sounded especially harsh in the early morning darkness.Edward listened, shrugged, and made a gesture to ask Jason to go back to the house with him. Jason hesitated at the door, saw the lights in my room across the lawn, and secretly waved to me. Of course, the mower was only temporarily fixed.Then came the next Wednesday, the gardener who smoked the High Lewis.After he mowed most of his lawn, the mower got stuck and would never move again.We sat in the shade by the edge of the wood and listened to the gardener swear loudly, and learned at least a dozen useful swear words, Flemish swear words.With an almost passing memory, Jason was hooked on Godverdomme mijn kloten miljardedju in no time!This sentence.He ran to the Rice Middle School library to look it up in the Dutch-English dictionary, and translated that sentence, word by word, into Jesus Christ who killed my balls a million times.Over the next few weeks, whenever he broke a shoelace or broke his computer, he would utter that expletive. Later, Edward had to spend money on a brand new mower.The people in the shop told him that it was a miracle that the old machine lasted so long and that it would cost too much to repair.I heard about it from my mother, who learned about it from Carol.I heard it from Lawton.As far as I know, Edward never mentioned the mower to Jason again after that. Jason and I have had a good laugh about it several times.However, after a few months, the jokes in the story gradually faded. ☆ I trudged back to bed, thinking of Diane.At that time, the gift she gave to her brother was not like what I gave, it was just spiritual comfort.She sent something that really worked.So where is she now?What can she give me that will lighten my burden?I think, as long as she is here, it is enough. The light of the day streamed through the room like water.I felt as if I were floating in a river of light, drowning in empty moments. Not all deranged delusions are bright and insane.Sometimes delusions are sluggish, reptilian and relentless.I watched shadows crawl up the hotel room walls like lizards.In the blink of an eye, an hour passed.In another blink of an eye, it was already dark, and the sunlight on the archway was gone.I looked sideways, and all I could see was a dark sky, covered with dark clouds from a tropical storm.I couldn't tell which was the lightning and which was the big nail I was seeing with a fever-induced hallucination.Thunder, however, could not be mistaken.Suddenly, a damp mineral smell wafted in from the outside, and the raindrops hit the concrete balcony with a whimper. Finally, I heard another sound: a card was inserted into the sensor lock on the door, and the hinges creaked harshly. Diane!I called out.It may be too soft to be heard, or it may be stuck in the throat at all. She rushed into the room in her outing clothes, a leather-trimmed sleeveless dress and a wide-brimmed straw hat dripping with rain.She stands by the bed. terribly sorry.she says. No need to apologize.only I mean, Taylor, I'm sorry, but you have to get up and get dressed.We have to go now.immediately.The taxi is waiting outside. It took me a while to understand what she was talking about.At this point, Diane started packing things into the hard-shell suitcase: clothes, real and fake IDs, memory cards, a padded test tube rack with small vials and syringes.I can't stand up.I wanted to say it, but I couldn't quite figure it out. After a while, she started helping me get dressed.Before she could say anything, I raised my legs and gritted my teeth. I didn't scream, and finally saved some face.After I sat up, she told me to pick up the bottle next to the bed and take a few more sips of water.He then took me to the bathroom and I squeezed out a bit of thick, cloudy urine the color of canary yellow.She said: Oh my God, you're dehydrated.She made me drink another sip of water, and gave me another painkiller injection. My arm hurt like a poisonous snake bite.Taylor, I'm so sorry.However, no matter how sorry I was, she kept urging me to put on my raincoat and put on a hat that was too heavy. I'm still a little alert, and I can hear the anxiety in her voice.Who are we hiding from? Putting it this way, I've had close encounters with some nasty people. where are we going? inland.faster! So we pushed past people along the dimly lit corridor of the hotel and down a flight of stairs to the first floor.Diane dragged the suitcase with her left hand and supported me with her right.It was a long walk, especially going down the stairs.Don't moan.She lowered her voice to remind me several times.I stopped moaning, or at least thought I didn't. Then we went outside into the dim night.The rain splashed on the muddy sidewalk and sizzled on the hood of the taxi.The driver of the old taxi, about twenty years old, gave me a suspicious look through the safety glass.I glared back at him.He is not sick.As Diane told him, she gestured for a drink from the bottle.The driver frowned, and took the money Diane forced into his hand. While he was driving, the narcotics in my body kicked in.The streets of Padang at night smell like a cavernous mix of damp asphalt and rotting dead fish.The oil slicks on the road are scattered with rainbow colors under the rolling of taxi tires.We left the neon-lit tourist district and drove into a bewildering jumble of shops and homes.The area surrounding the urban area was originally a temporary slum. After thirty years of gradual development, it is now a thriving and prosperous scene.There is an open space between two small houses with tin roofs, covered with tarpaulins, and several bulldozers are parked below.Towering apartment blocks stand on a homeless lot like mushrooms on a compost heap.We then crossed the factory district, a stretch of gray walls fringed with sharp barbed wire as far as the eye could see.Then, probably unconsciously, I fell asleep again. I dreamed not of the Seychelles, but of Jason.I dreamed that he saw the network that Diane gave him, and his face was full of joy and excitement (it was not this little machine that she gave me, but the network).I dreamed that he created many network systems, dreamed that he lived in the network world, and dreamed that the network world led him to many places.