Chapter 29 nineteen

Time passed and flew by.The days fly by like balloons.The time is filled with countless hours of writing at the computer under Megan's drawing of the deformed fetus, participating in experiments and human tests, walking, endurance training, swimming, counseling, massages, pedicures, Take a steam bath.The nights came and went, I went to the theater, had dinner, talked, and spent time with friends.Washed ashore at night and drifted away again.The countless hours of the night were filled with making love, whispering, sleeping, dreaming.Days and nights are turned into weeks, and weeks into months. At the end of each month, five, six, seven or eight new recruits who are not needed will arrive at the unit, and the unit will hold a welcome party with dinner, performances and dances.Many residents disappear from their units each month and never return; people I know are disappearing more and more frequently.For a while, time was a blur in my memory.It might not just be that my memory is selective, mixing things up and picking out what seemed appropriate at the time.Usually in the outside world, memories usually have seasons as reference points, and certain events are linked to certain times of the year.For example, I know that my father died and was buried in the fall because the maple leaves are red and orange in the churchyard and the air is clear and cold.My mother died the following early summer, the season of canola blooms and school holidays.I also remember the first time Nils came home with me in early spring, because I took him to see the snow-cut grass behind the compost just blooming.At first he didn't believe that it was really Snow Mowing. For some reason, he thought that Snow Mowing was extinct, so I had to go back to the house and show him the flower book.I moved into my house in late fall when the trees were bare and the ground was heavy and muddy.York became my dog ​​that winter.I had to remove freshly fallen snow from the windshield and clear the yard path before I drove carefully and slowly through the slush to fetch him from the animal shelter.However, when I think back to my days in the unit, there is no season as a reference point in my memory, because the seasons in the unit never change.There is only day and night in the unit, and that is the only thing that changes; there is only darkness and daylight in the unit.The plants in the winter garden were either budding or blooming, and nothing withered, withered, or died.There has never been winter in Wintergarden.

One day after lunch, I was walking in the winter garden as usual, and I walked into the orange grove, just in time for the petals to fall.I walked among the bushes, among the white dots of the Impressionists, and stood there thinking of Meghan and York.I miss Meghan because she loved the way the Impressionists represented the world, and I miss York because I know it must love these snowy white petals.I raised my face and watched the small petals slowly fall towards me with dignity, like snowflakes that will not melt on a windless day with fragrance, falling on my hair, forehead, eyelids, eyebrows, nose tip and lips .I blew away the last petal, lowered my head, and shook my body.That's when I realized I wasn't alone in the citrus grove. Someone else was standing some distance away in round glasses and a light green uniform shirt, looking at me among the fallen flowers.That man is Potter.

Hi!When he noticed that I saw him, he raised his hand to greet me. He came towards me, came up to me and asked: how have you been? Very good, I replied: How about you? Yes, he seemed hesitant to speak, looked down at the ground, then raised his head again, took a deep breath and said: That thing really sucks. You mean what happened to Eric and the others? Yes, that mistake is unforgivable, and whether the drug in question is tested on unwanted individuals, mice, amoebas, or needed individuals is an absolute waste. Yes, I agree: they could just throw their research dollars overboard.

I mean waste of people, said Potter: not money. People are money, I replied: just like time is money. He shook his head. People are people, he said seriously: people are life. Yes, yes, I said: Of course it is. I almost resigned, Porter went on, obviously needing to take a load off my shoulders, it's really sad to see you guys being treated like this here. We have been treated very well.I said. Do you really think so?He was genuinely surprised, and maybe a little disappointed. Yes, I replied: much better than the way we are treated in society.A place where I can be myself on every level, with a completely open mind, without being ostracized or ridiculed, or worried about not being taken seriously.I'm not going to be thought of as a freak or an alien or a troublemaker who doesn't know what to do with me.Here, I'm like everyone, I can fit in, I'm treated like one.I can go to the doctor, the dentist, even the hairdresser, the pedicure, I can go to restaurants, go to the movies, go to the theater.I live a dignified life here and am respected.

Yeah? Yes, I mean by comparison. Potter looked at me. Well, he said: I might be able to understand. I change the subject. Then why didn't you resign? Well then I thought about it, I can't lose my job now, my partner and I are having twins and we need a bigger house. So it was, I said: I might be able to understand. He chuckled, I smiled, and said goodbye.I walked through the citrus groves and it felt like I was walking through a landscape covered in fresh snow.All of a sudden, I found myself longing for winter fervently, for biting winds, white snorts, mittens, scarves, hats, and a little white dog.The little white dog has brown and black spots on its body, running in the fine snow, frantically wagging its tail, snorting, blowing off the snowflakes covering its nose, and letting the white snow dance in front of it like a small whirlwind.

So I had a plan. I have three things to do this afternoon: donate blood at the hospital’s central blood bank, go downstairs to the lab for a chromium injection (I’m part of an experiment testing whether high concentrations of chromium can raise blood sugar levels), and finally get a massage.Later in the day Johannes and I are going to the theater to see the new play everyone is talking about. During the blood donation and full-body massage, I had a lot of time to think about the plan, and I started working on it as soon as I got home: I opened the door, walked into the living room, yawned lazily, and stretched.Massages always make me sleepy.I walked slowly into the simple kitchen, poured a large glass of water, and returned to the living room with the glass in my hand. I yawned again, walked towards the sofa, slumped on the sofa, and picked up the glass to drink.I put the cup on the table, next to the remote control, picked up the remote control, and turned the channel casually.I turned sideways, sighed, pointed at the TV with the remote control, and selected channels at will.I watched very little TV as an unwanted individual, so I tried to act like it was a whim.A landscape of green hills pops onto the screen: a grassy valley with vineyards on its slopes, and blue mountains in the background in the distance.I lay on the couch watching a soap opera set in a French wine region, looking relaxed.

I waited until commercial time, when the diaper ad appeared, pretended to suddenly have an idea that could be used in the novel, sat up quickly, put my feet on the ground, grabbed the notebook and pen that were always on the coffee table, put them on my lap, and bent over Vibrate the pen and write quickly, but the characters written are smaller than usual.I've already figured out what to write when donating blood: I have a Danish Swedish Farmer named Yorkie.He is white with brown and black piebald, left ear white, right black, and a large brown piebald on his back that looks like a saddle slipped slightly to one side.It and Lisa and Stan.Yang Sheng lived together at Vigoma Farm, just outside the town of Aynap. If you drive towards Castorp, you will find the second farm on the right after the speed limit sign.If you can, please see if He is doing well, and then tell me!

After I finished writing, I read these four paragraphs again, and then said: No, no!Tear that page out of the notebook, crumple it up, throw it on the coffee table, and then slump back on the sofa over there to finish the soap opera. After a while, I took a quick shower, changed, and tidied up the room while I waited for Johannes.We're going to the theater and he'll pick me up like a gentleman.I picked up the water glass and the small paper ball, and walked towards the simple kitchen, holding the water glass in my left hand, and pretending to straighten my pants with my right hand, I took the opportunity to stuff the small paper ball into my pocket.I put the water glass on the countertop, then to make my behavior seem reasonable, I opened the cabinet under the sink and pretended to throw something in the trash.

All I can do next is wait.The first is to wait for Johannes, and the second is to wait for the next meeting with Potter.I leaned against the sofa and half-lyed on the sofa, wondering whether the name came first or the glasses?Potter is nicknamed Potter because of the round glasses he wears?Or did he wear those round glasses because his name was Potter?But who would name the child Potter?If he was a girl, what would his parents name him?Stockings 【Note 2】? 【Note 1】Potter means Harry.Potter (Harry Potter) surname.Potter is a surname, not usually used as a first name. [Note 2] Longstocking refers to Pippi Longstocking, the heroine of the famous Swedish fairy tale.

Johannes came, he kissed my lips, cold lips, as if he really came from the outside world, from the outside world where the temperature is below zero.I closed my eyes and pretended he was really from the outside world. You look very happy.He said. Yes, you taste like winter, so I am happy.You taste like you came here through a snowstorm. He laughed.It really feels like this, I feel like I've been headwinding all day and I'm dead tired. Johannes starts a new experiment with a new drug to lower blood pressure, and maybe his blood pressure is a little too low.I frowned in worry and said:

Do they check in regularly for you?Taking blood pressure and pulse or something? Of course, he said: Don't worry, are you going? The play was long and not very entertaining, but it was interesting.The story of a couple who suffer miscarriage after miscarriage, each hopeful and dashed in the end, but their love grows stronger as their grief, longing, and shared purpose bring them closer together.About halfway through the story, they finally manage to have the child they've longed for, but since then, they've drifted apart until they're strangers, as if they speak different languages, and because of that, they can't understand each other , must communicate through the child, and the child becomes the translator between the parents, which is very strange. Johannes is mostly asleep in the second act, which means he is awake at the end of the play. It would be great to have a beer now!He said.We set foot on the square, and he stretched himself after just waking up. A violent snowstorm and a strong beer!I said, that's exactly how I feel right now. You seem to like these winter things, why? Oh, there are petals falling in the citrus orchard today. we go back to my house.I took off my clothes and folded my trousers carefully so that the little paper ball in my left pocket wouldn't fall out. God, why do you suddenly become so tidy?Lying on the bed, Johannes said he had undressed and crawled under the covers with one arm behind his head. I just don't want to get wrinkled. It's already wrinkled. Ugh, no more wrinkling then. Since when did you care about this kind of thing? I want to change the subject. Since I met you.I said, and quickly picked up the other clothes, folded them neatly, and folded them on the chair, pressing the trousers underneath.I pulled up the quilt at the end of the bed, opened an opening, slipped in, and slid forward along one of Johannes' legs.His legs were soft and hairy, his skin was a little rough and masculine, and he smelled like him, just like sunshine, reminding me of cumin, coriander, and cinnamon.His calf muscles pressed against the mattress, and the bottom half of his knee was particularly rough and raised, like a cat's tongue.My hands groped forward, the muscles in the front of his thigh tensed and swelled. That night I dreamed of York, the beach, that branch I kept picking up and throwing and York kept picking up.But this time the dream was different. Sometimes instead of York picking up the branch with his mouth, Johannes ran towards me with his arms outstretched, his hair standing on end in the wind.Sometimes it wasn't me who threw the branch but Johannes, and when York picked it up we praised it together.In the blink of an eye, we were sitting together in a car parked outside a house.The car is my old car and the house is my old house.We got out of the car and went into the house where the two of us lived together with the dog.Johannes hung the framed pictures on the wall, and I asked him: Whose pictures are these? Can't you see it?Johannes replied: Of course it is a picture of our children. Our little one?I said, and then I woke up, and the room was filled with the light of dawn. I didn't tell Johannes about the dream, not yet.This dream terrified me.It was a beautiful dream, and we were very happy in it, but it seemed threatening to me, and maybe that's why I didn't tell Johannes.All that day I tried to forget the dream, to put it behind me, like trying to shake off a bad dream.But I can't, it just stays in consciousness and sits there all day, coloring everything I do, everything I say and everything that happens this day , everything becomes colorful, just because I think I have a man, a child, a house, a car, a dog.