Sophie raced back to the house and into the kitchen. Her mind was in a turmoil. Who was this "Hilde," whose fifteenth birthday was just a month before her own?
Sophie got out the telephone book. There were a lot of people called Moller, and quite a few called Knag. But there was nobody in the entire directory called Moller Knag.
She examined the mysterious card again. It certainly seemed genuine enough; it had a stamp and a postmark.
Why would a father send a birthday card to Sophie's address when it was quite obviously intended to go somewhere else? What kind of father would cheat his own daughter of a birthday card by purposely sending it astray? How could it be "the easiest way"? And above all, how was she supposed to trace this Hilde person?
So now Sophie had another problem to worry about. She tried to get her thoughts in order:
This afternoon, in the space of two short hours, she had been presented with three problems. The first problem was who had put the two white envelopes in her mailbox. The second was the difficult questions these letters contained. The third problem was who Hilde Moller Knag could be, and why Sophie had been sent her birthday card. She was sure that the three problems were interconnected in some way. They had to be, because until today she had lived a perfectly ordinary life.
伊甸园
苏菲放学回家了。有一段路她和乔安同行，她们谈着有关机器人的问题。乔安认为人的脑子就像一部很先进的电脑，这点苏菲并不太赞同。她想：人应该不只是一台机器吧．她们走到超市那儿就分手了。苏菲住在市郊，那一带面积辽阔，花木扶疏。苏菲家位于外围，走到学校的距离是乔安家的一倍，附近除了她家的园子之外，没有其他住家，因此看起来她们仿佛住在世界尽头似的。再过去，就是森林了。
苏菲转了个弯，走到苜蓿巷路上。路尽头有一个急转弯，人们称之为“船长弯”。除了周六、周日的时候，人们很少打这儿经过。
正是五月初的时节。有些人家的园子里，水仙花已经一丛丛开满了果树的四周，赤杨树也已经长出了嫩绿的叶子。
每年到这个时节，万物总是充满了生机。这岂不是一件奇妙的事吗?当天气变暖，积雪融尽时，千千万万的花草树木便陡地自荒枯的大地上生长起来了。这是什么力量造成的呢?苏菲打开花园的门时，看了看信箱。里面通常有许多垃圾邮件和一些写给她妈妈的大信封。她总是把它们堆在厨房的桌子上，然后走上楼到房间做功课。
偶尔，也会有一些银行寄给她爸爸的信。不过，苏菲的爸爸跟别人不太一样。他是一艘大油轮的船长，几乎一年到头都在外面。
难得有几个星期在家时，他会上上下下细心打点，为苏菲母女俩把房子整理得漂亮舒适。不过，当他出海后却显得理他们遥远无比。
今天，信箱里却只有一封信，而且是写给苏菲的。信封上写着：“苜蓿路三号，苏菲收”。只此而已，没有写寄信人的名字，也没贴邮票。
苏菲随手把门带上后，便拆开了信封。里面只有一小张约莫跟信封一样大小的纸，上面写着：你是谁?除此之外，什么也没有。没有问候的话，也没有回信地址，只有这三个手写的字，后面是一个大大的问号。
苏菲再看看信封。没错，信是写给她的。但又是谁把它放在信箱里的呢?苏菲快步走进她家那栋漆成红色的房子里。当她正要把房门带上时，她的猫咪雪儿一如往常般悄悄自树丛中走出，跳到门前的台阶上，一溜烟就钻了进来。
“猫咪，猫咪，猫咪!”你是谁苏菲的妈妈心情不好时，总是把他们家称为“动物园”。事实上，苏菲也的确养了许多心爱的动物。一开始时是三只金鱼：金冠、小红帽和黑水手。然后她又养了两只鹦哥，名叫史密特和史穆尔，然后是名叫葛文的乌龟，最后则是猫咪雪儿。这些都是爸妈买给她作伴的。因为妈妈总是很晚才下班回家，而爸爸又常航行四海，很伊旬田苏菲把书包丢在地板上，为雪儿盛了一碗猫食。然后她便坐在厨房的高脚椅上，手中仍拿着那封神秘的信。
你是谁?她怎么会知道?不用说，她的名字叫苏菲，但那个叫做苏菲的人又是谁呢?她还没有想出来。
如果她取了另外一个名字呢?比方说，如果她叫做安妮的话，她会不会变成别人?这使她想起爸爸原本要将她取名为莉莉。她试着想象自己与别人握手，并且介绍自己名叫莉莉的情景，但却觉得好像很不对劲，像是别人在自我介绍一般。
她跳起来，走进浴室，手里拿着那封奇怪的信。她站在镜子前面，凝视着自己，的眼睛。“我的名字叫莉莉。”她说。
镜中的女孩却连眼睛也不眨一下。无论苏菲做什么，她都依样画葫芦。苏菲飞快地做了一个动作，想使镜中的影像追赶不及，但那个女孩却和她一般的敏捷。
“你是谁?”苏菲问。
镜中人也不回答。有一刹那，她觉得迷惑，弄不清刚才问问题的到底是她，还是镜中的影像。
苏菲用食指点着镜中的鼻子，说：“你是我。”对方依旧没有反应。于是她将句子颠倒过来，说：“我是你。”苏菲对自己的长相常常不太满意。时常有人对她说她那一双杏眼很漂亮，但这可能只是因为她的鼻子太小，嘴巴有点太大的缘故。还有，她的耳朵也太靠近眼睛了。最糟糕的是她有一头直发，简直没办法打扮。有时她的爸爸在听完一首德彪西的曲子之后会摸摸她的头发，叫她：“亚麻色头发的女孩。”(编按：为德彪西钢琴“前奏曲”之曲名)对他来说，这当然没有什么不好，因为这头直板板的深色头发不是长在他的头上，他毋需忍受那种感觉。不管泡沫胶或造型发胶都无济于事。有时她觉得自己好丑，一定是出生时变了形的缘故。以前妈妈总是念叨她当年生苏菲时难产的情况，不过，难道这样就可以决定一个人的长相吗?她居然不知道自己是谁，这不是太奇怪了吗?她也没有一点权利选择自己的长相，这不是太不合理了吗?这些事情都是她不得不接受的。也许她可以选择交什么朋友，但却不能选择自己要成为什么人。她甚至不曾选择要做人。
人是什么?她再度抬起头，看看镜中的女孩。
“我要上楼去做生物课的作业了。”她说，语气中几乎有些歉意。她很快走到了走廊。一到这儿，她想：“不，我还是到花园去好了。”“猫咪!猫咪!猫咪!”苏菲追猫追到门阶上，并且随手关上了前门。•当她拿着那封神秘的信，站在花园中的石子路上时，那种奇怪的感觉又浮现了。她觉得自己好像一个在仙子的魔棒挥舞之下，突然被赋予了生命的玩具娃娃。她现在能够在这个世界上四处漫游，从事奇妙的探险，这不是一件很不寻常的事吗?雪儿轻巧地跳过石子路，滑进了浓密的红醋栗树丛中。它是一只活泼的猫，毛色光滑，全身上下从白色的胡须到左右摇动的尾巴都充满了蓬勃的生气。它此刻也在这园子中，但却未像苏菲一样意识到这件事实。
当苏菲开始思考有关活着这件事时，她也开始意识到她不会永远活着。
她想：“我现在是活在这世上，但有一天我会死去。”人死之后还会有生命吗?这个问题猫咪也不会去想。这倒是它的福气。
苏菲的祖母不久前才去世。有六个多月的时间，苏菲天天都想念她。生命为何要结束呢?这是多么不公平呀!苏菲站在石子路上想着。她努力思考活着的意义，好让自己忘掉她不会永远活着这件事。然而，这实在不太可能。现在，只要她一专心思索活着这件事，脑海中便会马上浮现死亡的念头。反过来说也是如此：唯有清晰地意识到有一天她终将死去，她才能够体会活在世上是多么美好。这两件事就像钱币的正反两面，被她不断翻来转去，当一面变得更大、更清晰时，另外一面也随之变得大而清晰。生与死正是一枚钱币的正反两面。
“如果你没有意识到人终将死去，就不能体会活着的滋味。”她想。然而，同样的，如果你不认为活着是多么奇妙而不可思议的事时，你也无法体认你必须要死去的事实。
苏菲记得那天医生说告诉祖母她生病了时，祖母说过同样的话。她说：“现在我才体认到生命是何等可贵。”大多数人总是要等到生病后才了解，能够活着是何等的福气。
这是多么悲哀的事!或许他们也应该在信箱里发现一封神秘的来信吧!也许她应该去看看是否有别的信。
苏菲匆匆忙忙走到花园门口，查看了一下那绿色的信箱，她很惊讶的发现里面居然有另外一封信，与第一封一模一样。她拿走第一封信时，里面明明是空的呀!这封信上面也写着她的名字。她将它拆开，拿出一张与第一封信一样大小的便条纸。
纸上写着：世界从何而来?苏菲想：“我不知道。”不用说，没有人真正知道。不过苏菲认为这个问题的确是应该问的。她生平第一次觉得生在这世界上却连“世界从何而来”这样的问题也不问一问，实在是很不恭敬。
这两封神秘的信把苏菲弄得脑袋发昏。她决定到她的老地方去坐下来。这个老地方是苏菲最秘密的藏身之处。当她非常愤怒、悲伤或快乐时，她总会来到这儿。而今天，苏菲来此的理由却是因为她感到困惑。
苏菲的困惑这栋红房子坐落在一个很大的园子中。园里有很多花圃、各式各样的果树，以及一片广阔的草坪，上面有一架沙发式的秋千与一座小小的凉亭。这凉亭是奶奶的第一个孩子在出生几周便夭折后，爷爷为奶奶兴建的。孩子的名字叫做玛莉。她的墓碑上写着：“小小玛莉来到人间，惊鸿一瞥魂归高天”。
在花园的一角，那些术莓树丛后面有一片花草果树不生的浓密灌木林。事实上，那儿原本是一行生长多年的树篱，一度是森林的分界线。然而由于过去二十年来未经修剪，如今已经长成一大片，枝叶纠结，难以穿越。奶奶以前常说战争期间这道树篱使得那些在园中放养的鸡比较不容易被狐狸捉去。
如今，除了苏菲以外，大家都认为这行老树篱就像园子另一边那个兔笼子一般，没有什么用处。但这全是因为他们浑然不知苏菲的秘密的缘故。
自从解事以来，苏菲就知道树篱中有个小洞。她爬过那个小洞，就置身于灌木丛中的一个大洞穴中。这个洞穴就像一座小小的房子。她知道当她在那儿时，没有人可以找到•她。
手里紧紧握着那两封信，苏菲跑过花园，而后整个人趴下来，钻进树篱中。里面的高度差不多勉强可以让她站起来，但她今天只是坐在一堆纠结的树根上。她可以从这里透过枝桠与树叶之间的隙缝向外张望。虽然没有一个隙缝比一枚小钱币大，但她仍然可以清楚地看见整座花园。当她还小时，常躲在这儿，看着爸妈在树丛间找她，觉得很好玩。
苏菲一直认为这个花园自成一个世界。每一次她听到圣经上有关伊甸园的事时，她就觉得自己好像坐在她的小天地，观察属于她的小小乐园一般。
世界从何而来?她一点也不知道。她知道这个世界只不过是太空中一个小小的星球。然而，太空又是打哪儿来的呢?很可能太空是早就存在的。如果这样，她就不需要去想它是从哪里来了。但一个东西有可能原来就存在吗?她内心深处并不赞成这样的看法。现存的每一件事物必然都曾经有个开始吧?因此，太空一定是在某个时刻由另外一样东西造成的。
不过，如果太空是由某样东西变成的，那么，那样东西必然也是由另外一样东西变成的。苏菲觉得自己只不过是把问题向后拖延罢了。在某一时刻，事物必然曾经从无到有。然而，这可能吗?这不就像世界一直存在的看法一样不可思议吗?他们在学校曾经读到世界是由上帝创造的。现在苏菲试图安慰自己，心想这也许是整件事最好的答案吧。不过，她又再度开始思索。她可以接受上帝创造太空的说法，不过上帝又是谁创造的呢?是它自己从无中生有，创造出它自己吗?苏菲内心深处并不以为然。即使上帝创造了万物，它也无法创造出它自己，因为那时它自己并不存在呀。因此，只剩下一个可能性了：上帝是一直都存在的。然而苏菲已经否认这种可能性了，已经存在的万事万物必然有个开端的。
哦!这个问题真是烦死人了她再度拆开那两封信。
你是谁?世界从何而来?什么烂问题嘛!再说，这些信又是打哪儿来的呢?这件事几乎和这两个问题一样，是个谜。
是谁给苏菲这样一记当头棒喝，使她突然脱离了日常生活，面对这样一个宇宙的大谜题7．苏菲再度走到信箱前。这已经是第三次了。邮差刚刚送完今天的信。苏菲拿出了一大堆垃圾邮件、期刊以及两三封写给妈妈的信。除此之外，还有一张风景明信片，上面印着热带海滩的景象。她把卡片翻过来，上面贴着挪威的邮票，并盖着“联合国部队”的邮戳。会是爸爸寄来的吗?可是爸爸不在这个地方呀1况且笔迹也当她看到收信人的名字时，不觉心跳微微加速。上面写着：“请苜蓿巷三号苏菲转交席德……”剩下的地址倒是正确的。卡片上写着：亲爱的席德：你满十五岁了，生日快乐!我想你会明白，我希望给你一样能帮助你成长的生日礼物。原谅我请苏菲代转运张卡片，因为这样最方便。’爱你的老爸苏菲快步走回屋子，进入厨房。此刻她的思绪一团混乱。
这个席德是谁?她的十五岁生日居然只比苏菲早了一个月。
她去客厅拿了电话簿来查。有许多人姓袭，也有不少人姓习，但就是没有人姓席。
她再度审视这张神秘的卡片。上面有邮票也有邮戳，因此毫无疑问，这不是一封伪造的信。
怎么会有父亲把生日卡寄到苏菲家?这明明不是给她的呀!什么样的父亲会故意把信寄到别人家，让女儿收不到生日卡呢?为什么他说这是“最方便”的呢?更何况，苏菲要怎样才能找到这个名叫席德的人?现在，苏菲又有问题要烦恼了。她试着将思绪做一番整理：今天下午，在短短的两个小时之内，她面临了三个问题。第一个是谁把那两个白色的信封放在她的信箱内，第二个是那两封信提出的难题，第三个则是这个席德是谁。她的生日卡为何会寄到苏菲家?苏菲相信这三个问题之间必然有所关联。一定是这样没错，因为直到今天以前，她的生活都跟平常人没有两样。
The Top Hat
the only thing we require to be good philosophers is the faculty of wonder...
Sophie was sure she would hear from the anonymous letter writer again. She decided not to tell anyone about the letters for the time being.
At school she had trouble concentrating on what the teachers said. They seemed to talk only about unimportant things. Why couldn't they talk about what a human being is--or about what the world is and how it came into being?
For the first time she began to feel that at school as well as everywhere else people were only concerned with trivialities. There were major problems that needed to be solved.
Did anybody have answers to these questions? Sophie felt that thinking about them was more important than memorizing irregular verbs.
When the bell rang after the last class, she left the school so fast that Joanna had to run to catch up with her.
After a while Joanna said, "Do you want to play cards this evening?"
Sophie shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm not that interested in card games any more."
Joanna looked surprised.
"You're not? Let's play badminton then."
Sophie stared down at the pavement--then up at her friend.
"I don't think I'm that interested in badminton either."
"You're kidding!"
Sophie noticed the touch of bitterness in Joanna's tone.
"Do you mind telling me what's suddenly so important?"
Sophie just shook her head. "It's ... it's a secret."
"Yuck! You're probably in love!"
The two girls walked on for a while without saying anything. When they got to the soccer field Joanna said, "I'm going across the field."
Across the field! It was the quickest way for Joanna, but she only went that way when she had to hurry home in time for visitors or a dental appointment.
Sophie regretted having been mean to her. But what else could she have said? That she had suddenly become so engrossed in who she was and where the world came from that she had no time to play badminton? Would Joanna have understood?
Why was it so difficult to be absorbed in the most vital and, in a way, the most natural of all questions?
She felt her heart beating faster as she opened the mailbox. At first she found only a letter from the bank and some big brown envelopes for her mother. Darn! Sophie had been looking forward to getting another letter from the unknown sender.
As she closed the gate behind her she noticed her own name on one of the big envelopes. Turning it over, she saw written on the back: "Course in Philosophy. Handle with care."
Sophie ran up the gravel path and flung her schoolbag onto the step. Stuffing the other letters under the doormat, she ran around into the back garden and sought refuge in the den. This was the only place to open the big letter.
Sherekan came jumping after her but Sophie had to put up with that. She knew the cat would not give her away.
Inside the envelope there were three typewritten pages held together with a paper clip. Sophie began to read.
WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY?
Dear Sophie,
Lots of people have hobbies. Some people collect old coins or foreign stamps, some do needlework, others spend most of their spare time on a particular sport.
A lot of people enjoy reading. But reading tastes differ widely. Some people only read newspapers or comics, some like reading novels, while others prefer books on astronomy, wildlife, or technological discoveries.
If I happen to be interested in horses or precious stones, I cannot expect everyone else to share my enthusiasm. If I watch all the sports programs on TV with great pleasure, I must put up with the fact that other people find sports boring.
Is there nothing that interests us all? Is there nothing that concerns everyone--no matter who they are or where they live in the world? Yes, dear Sophie, there are questions that certainly should interest everyone. They are precisely the questions this course is about.
What is the most important thing in life? If we ask someone living on the edge of starvation, the answer is food. If we ask someone dying of cold, the answer is warmth. If we put the same question to someone who feels lonely and isolated, the answer will probably be the company of other people.
But when these basic needs have been satisfied--will there still be something that everybody needs? Philosophers think so. They believe that man cannot live by bread alone. Of course everyone needs food. And everyone needs love and care. But there is something else--apart from that--which everyone needs, and that is to figure out who we are and why we are here.
Being interested in why we are here is not a "casual" interest like collecting stamps. People who ask such questions are taking part in a debate that has gone on as long as man has lived on this planet. How the universe, the earth, and life came into being is a bigger and more important question than who won the most gold medals in the last Olympics.
The best way of approaching philosophy is to ask a few philosophical questions:
How was the world created? Is there any will or meaning behind what happens? Is there a life after death? How can we answer these questions? And most important, how ought we to live? People have been asking these questions throughout the ages. We know of no culture which has not concerned itself with what man is and where the world came from.
Basically there are not many philosophical questions to ask. We have already asked some of the most important ones. But history presents us with many different answers to each question. So it is easier to ask philosophical questions than to answer them.
Today as well each individual has to discover his own answer to these same questions. You cannot find out whether there is a God or whether there is life after death by looking in an encyclopedia. Nor does the encyclopedia tell us how we ought to live. However, reading what other people have believed can help us formulate our own view of life.
Philosophers' search for the truth resembles a detective story. Some think Andersen was the murderer, others think it was Nielsen or Jensen. The police are sometimes able to solve a real crime. But it is equally possible that they never get to the bottom of it, although there is a solution somewhere. So even if it is difficult to answer a question, there may be one--and only one--right answer. Either there is a kind of existence after death--or there is not.
A lot of age-old enigmas have now been explained by science. What the dark side of the moon looks like was once shrouded in mystery. It was not the kind of thing that could be solved by discussion, it was left to the imagination of the individual. But today we know exactly what the dark side of the moon looks like, and no one can "believe" any longer in the Man in the Moon, or that the moon is made of green cheese.
A Greek philosopher who lived more than two thousand years ago believed that philosophy had its origin in man's sense of wonder. Man thought it was so astonishing to be alive that philosophical questions arose of their own accord.
It is like watching a magic trick. We cannot understand how it is done. So we ask: how can the magician change a couple of white silk scarves into a live rabbit?
A lot of people experience the world with the same incredulity as when a magician suddenly pulls a rabbit out of a hat which has just been shown to them empty.
In the case of the rabbit, we know the magician has tricked us. What we would like to know is just how he did it. But when it comes to the world it's somewhat different. We know that the world is not all sleight of hand and deception because here we are in it, we are part of it. Actually, we are the white rabbit being pulled out of the hat. The only difference between us and the white rabbit is that the rabbit does not realize it is taking part in a magic trick. Unlike us. We feel we are part of something mysterious and we would like to know how it all works.
P.S. As far as the white rabbit is concerned, it might be better to compare it with the whole universe. We who live here are microscopic insects existing deep down in the rabbit's fur. But philosophers are always trying to climb up the fine hairs of the fur in order to stare right into the magician's eyes.
Are you still there, Sophie? To be continued . . .
Sophie was completely exhausted. Still there? She could not even remember if she had taken the time to breathe while she read.
