日子一天又一天、一周又一周地过去。通过记忆的传授，乔纳思认识了各种色彩，甚至开始在平常生活中看见各种色彩（他的生活再也不平常，也无法恢复平常了），只不过他的色感总是无法持久。比如他曾在中央广场的草地以及河边的草丛中，瞥见一抹绿意，还看见卡车运载着边界外农场的橙色南瓜，即使隔得老远，他还是看见刹那间闪耀出的鲜亮色彩。但都一闪即逝，随即恢复平淡无奇的外表。
传授人告诉他，要花很长一段时间才能学会保留这些色彩。
“我好想早点儿永久留住色彩！”乔纳思生气地说，“什么东西都没有颜色，实在不公平！”
“不公平？”传授人好奇地望着乔纳思，“解释一下你的想法。”
“嗯……”乔纳思必须停下来好好思考，“如果什么东西都一样，就没有选择的机会了。我很想一早醒来就可以做选择，比如穿蓝色上衣或红色上衣。”
他低头望着自己没有任何色彩的衣服：“但是，所有的衣服都一样，永远如此。”〖贼吧Ｚei8。Ｃom电子书下载：Zei8.com 贼吧电子书〗
说着他微笑了起来：“我知道穿什么衣服并不重要，关系也不大，但是……”
“重要的是选择权，对不对？”传授人问。
乔纳思点点头，“我的弟弟……”他赶紧修正：“不，他不是我弟弟，他只是接受我们家特别照顾的小宝宝，他的名字叫加波。”
“哦，我知道加波。”
“就他的年纪来看，他学得很快。如果把玩具放在前面，他就会去抓——我爸爸说他正在学习控制小肌肉——他真的好可爱。”
传授人点点头。
“但是，现在我看得见颜色，至少有时候看得见啦。我就会想：如果我拿出的是鲜红色、鲜黄色的玩具，不知他会选择哪样？”
“他可能会选错。”
“噢，”乔纳思沉默了一秒钟，“我了解你的意思。小宝宝选什么玩具还无所谓，但是以后就至关重要了，对不对？
所以我们不敢让人们自己做选择。”
“不安全？”传授人提示。
“绝对不安全。”乔纳思很肯定地说，“如果他们可以自己选配偶，却选错了呢？”
“又如果，”他继续说，觉得自己的想法很荒谬、很可笑，“他们可以自己选择工作呢？”
“好可怕，不是吗？”传授人说。
乔纳思轻声低笑：“非常可怕，也很难想象。我们一定要保护大家，避免错误的选择。”
“这样安全多了。”
“对，”乔纳思同意，“安全多了。”
当话题转移后，乔纳思感到一种莫名的沮丧。
近来他常生气：对同学的安于现状生气，为何大家无法像他一样去享受色彩呢？他也对自己生气，生气他无法为大家带来改变。
他曾瞒着传授人——因为他担心会被拒绝——偷偷地将自己崭新的知觉告诉朋友。
“亚瑟，”有一天早上他说，“你仔细看这些花。”那时他们站在档案管理中心附近的一座天竺葵花圃边，他把手搭在亚瑟的肩膀上，专注地想着红色的花瓣，并尽可能将时间拉长，希望能把红色的知觉转移给这位朋友。
“怎么回事？”亚瑟不自在地问：“哪里不对劲？”他把乔纳思的手推开。因为伸手碰触别人，是非常鲁莽的行为。
“没事。我只是在想这些花快枯萎了，我们应该通知园丁多浇一点水。”乔纳思叹了一口气，转身离开。
有一天晚上，他做完训练回家，脑海里塞满了新知识。
那天传授人选择了一段令人既惊骇又焦虑的记忆。在他双手的触摸下，乔纳思发现自己置身在一个完全陌生的环境里，那里非常炎热、狂风呼啸、蓝天如洗，周围有几束稀稀落落的青草、几丛灌木和几块岩石，不远处是一片宽阔、低矮的树林。他听见嘈杂音，一阵武器爆裂声让他意识到“枪”这个字；喊叫声四起，不知什么东西倒下来，发出轰然巨响，还将大树的枝干给压断了。
呼喊声此起彼落，他躲在灌木丛后面偷看，想起传授人曾告诉他：以前的人肤色不一样。在这群人中就有两位肤色是深褐色的，其他人则是浅色。他靠得更近，看见地上躺着一头大象，动也不动，这些人砍下它的长牙，鲜血四溅。他不知所措地呆立着，体悟到红色的另一个象征。
这些人走了，坐上车子，加速往地平线的方向驶去，旋转的车轮弹起小石子，其中一颗击中他的前额，猛地一阵刺痛。但是记忆继续向前，乔纳思只得忍痛跟到底。
这时他看见另一头大象从躲藏的树丛中走出来，慢慢踱到那只遇害的大象身旁，低头凝视，用蜷曲的鼻子抚摩那巨大的尸身；然后它抬起鼻子，扯下一些树叶，覆盖在那伤痕累累的身躯上。
最后它抬起头，举起象牙，对着空旷的大地怒吼。吼声中有无尽的愤怒和忧伤，乔纳思从未听过这样的声音。
他张开眼睛，痛苦地躺在接收记忆的床上，那声音犹在耳际萦绕。就连骑车回家的路上,怒吼声依然充塞他的心田。
“莉莉那天晚上，当莉莉从柜子上拿下她的填充大象玩具时，他问她：“你知道以前有活生生的大象吗？”
她看着手上破旧的玩具，露齿一笑：“当然有啦，乔纳思。”
爸爸帮莉莉解开蝴蝶结，梳理她的头发。乔纳思走过去，将手搭在他们两个人的肩膀上。他费力地想将一小段大象过去的形象，例如它们的躯体如何的雄伟硕大，以及它在朋友临终前体贴地抚触和照顾等记忆传送给他们。
爸爸只是继续梳着莉莉的长头发，莉莉却对哥哥的触摸感到不耐烦，拼命扭着身子。“乔纳思，”她说，“你弄痛我了。”
“很抱歉，莉莉。”乔纳思喃喃说着，将手移开。
“我接受你的道歉。”莉莉满不在乎地回答，一边轻抚着手上那只没有生命的大象。
“传授人，”有一次在准备工作时，乔纳思问，“您有没有配偶？您不是可以申请一位吗？”虽然在这里可以不受礼教约束，他还是觉得这个问题有些唐突。但是传授人向来鼓励他发问，就连最私密的问题都不觉得受窘或被冒犯。
传授人微微一笑：“没错，没有规定说我不能申请配偶。
我也的确有配偶。你忘了我已经多老了，乔纳思。我以前的配偶现在跟其他没有孩子的成人住在一起。”
“哦，当然了。”乔纳思忘了传授人已经上了年纪。社区里的成人一旦老了，生活形态就不一样了，他们不用再去维系一个家庭。所以等到乔纳思和莉莉长大成人，他们的爸妈就会去跟没有孩子的成人一起住。
“乔纳思，如果你想要，以后也可以申请配偶。不过我要先警告你，你的生活方式跟一般家庭不一样，因为这些书禁止一般居民阅读，你跟我是唯一可以翻阅的人，所以你的婚姻生活难度很高。”
乔纳思望着林林总总的书册。在一次又一次的记忆传承后，现在他已经可以看见颜色，不过还没有机会打开任何一本书。他读过墙上每本书的书名，知道里头蕴藏着过去几世纪以来的知识，总有一天，这些书籍会通通属于他。
“如果我有配偶，也许还有孩子，我必须把书藏起来，不让他们看见吗？”
传授人点点头：“我必须严格遵守这项规定。此外，我也不准跟配偶分享这些书。你记不记得规则里说：不准跟别人提起训练的内容？”
乔纳思点点头，他当然记得，现在这已变成最令他沮丧的规则。
“当这里的训练结束，你成为正式的记忆传授人之后，就得面临另一套全新的规则，也就是我现在遵循的规则，其中有一条你会猜得到——就是不准跟任何人谈论工作内容，除了新的记忆传授人以外。当然，对我而言，那个人就是你啦。
所以你的生命完全无法跟家人共享，这很困难，乔纳思，对我来说很困难。记忆就是我的生活，我的生命，你很了解，不是吗？”
乔纳思又点点头，但他很迷惑，生命不是由每天做的事建构起来的吗，除此之外还有什么呢？“我看过您散步。”他说。
传授人叹了一口气，“我散步，用餐时间用餐，长老会找我的时候，就出现在他们面前，给他们提供意见或建议。”
“您经常提供意见吗？”乔纳思有点害怕，担心有朝一日他得单独给管理统治阶层提供建议。
传授人摇摇头：“很少，只有面临突发事件时，他们才会传唤我，要我用记忆提供建议，但这种状况少之又少。有时候，我真希望他们能多找我，多运用我的智能，在很多事情上我都可以提供建议。我希望他们能有所改变，但是他们不想改变。生命在这里是这样平常、规律、乏味，这就是他们的选择。”
“那我就不明白了，如果他们不找记忆传授人，为什么还要设这个职位呢？”乔纳思提出看法。
“他们需要我，也需要你。”传授人说，但是没有多加解释，“十年前发生的那件事更提醒了他们这一点。”
“十年前发生了什么事？”乔纳思问，“哦，我知道了，您想要训练一名记忆传授人，结果失败了。为什么？为什么这件事会提醒他们？”
传授人深沉地苦笑了一下：“当新记忆传承人的训练失败时，原本由她接收的记忆便释放出来，这些记忆没有回到我身上，它们……”
他停下来，好像在跟那概念抗争：“我不是很确定，那些记忆回到创造记忆传授人之前的某个地方……”他含糊地打了一个手势，“然后被人们接收到了。很明显的，有一阵子每个人都获得那些记忆。”
“那真是一场大灾难。”他说，“他们真的苦恼了一阵子。最后记忆被吸收完，事情才平静下来。这件事让他们体会到，他们确实需要一位记忆传授人来接收所有的痛苦和知识。”
“但你却得无时无刻不在受苦。”乔纳思指出。
传授人点点头：“将来你也一样，这就是我的生命，也是你以后的生命。”
乔纳思想象自己的未来：“散步、吃饭，还有……”他环视墙上的书，“阅读？就这样？”
传授人摇摇头，“那些只是我平常做的事，我的生命在这里。”
“在这个房间里？”
传授人又摇摇头，将手放在自己的脸上、胸膛上：“不，这里，在我身上，这个装载记忆的地方。”
“科学工程老师告诉过我们大脑是怎么运作的。”乔纳思急切地说：“我们的大脑里有好多电子脉冲，就像计算机，如果你用电极刺激某部分的大脑，它就会……”他住口不说，因为传授人脸上出现了怪异的表情。
“他们什么也不懂。”传授人苦涩地说。
乔纳思很震惊。打从受训第一天开始，他们就不受规则约束，乔纳思对这一点感到非常自在。但是这句话不一样，比违反规则更加严重，这已是一种指责，如果被别人听到了怎么办？
他飞快地看了一眼墙上的扩音器，生怕长老会跟平常一样监听别人谈话。还好，跟他们每次一起工作时一样，开关是关着的。
“什么都不懂？”乔纳思紧张的嘀咕着，“但是我的老师……”
传授人甩甩手，就好像要把东西拂到旁边：“哦，你的老师受到很好的训练，了解他们知道的科学真相，每个人都接受了完整的职业训练。只不过……没有记忆，所有的东西都没有意义。他们把记忆的重担加在我身上，我的前一任记忆传承人，以及他以前的记忆传承人身上。”
“以及以前、以前、再以前的……”乔纳思很了解地接着说。
传授人笑了，但笑声有些刺耳：“没错，下一个就是你了，真是天大的荣耀。”
“是的，先生。在典礼中他们跟我说过了，至高无上的荣耀。
有几个下午，传授人没有训练他就让他离开。乔纳思发现只要他抵达时看见传授人弓起身子，轻微的前后摇晃，脸色苍白，那他很快就会被打发走。
“走吧！”传授人紧绷着脸告诉他，“今天我很痛苦，明天再来。”
在那样的日子里，乔纳思只能怀着担心和失望的心情，沿着河岸骑回家。路上只偶尔见到几位送货员和正在工作的园丁。小一点的孩子下课后都留在育儿中心，大一点的则忙着当义工或受训。
他想测试发展中的记忆，于是望着路边的草丛，想找出绿色；当绿色跃现时，他马上专注捕捉，加深它的形象，并尽可能将它保留在自己的视觉中，直到头痛了，才让记忆飘走。
他凝视着平坦、毫无色彩的天空，将蓝色的记忆引出来，最后终于回想起阳光，并感觉到短暂的温暖。
他站在跨越河面的桥墩下，望着这座只有外出处理公务方可穿越的桥梁。乔纳思曾经在学校旅行中，跨过这座桥去拜访外界的社区。河界以外的地区和这里大同小异，一样都是平坦、井然有序的农田。沿途所见的社区也跟自己的社区差不多，只有房屋样式跟学校的课程略有不同而已。
他很好奇：在更远的、那些他没去过的地方，会是什么景致？邻近的社区外面有着广大的土地，山丘是不是就坐落在那里？有没有他记忆中看见的那个刮着风沙、大象死亡的地方？
有一次，在他被打发走的第二天下午，他问传授人；“是什么让您如此痛苦？”
传授人沉默不语，乔纳思继续说：“首席长老一开始就告诉我，接收记忆会带来无比的痛苦。您也跟我描述过，上一位记忆传承人在失败后将痛苦的记忆释放出来。但是，我没有受过苦，真的还没受过苦。”乔纳思笑了，“哦，您在第一天让我感受到日晒的痛，但那并不严重。是什么让您如此痛苦？如果您转移一点给我，也许就可以减轻您的痛苦。”
传授人点点头：“躺下来，”他说，“我想，时候到了，我不可能永远保护你。你最后还是得承受一切。”
“让我想想。”他继续说。乔纳思躺在床上，内心不由得忐忑起来。
“好吧！”过了一会儿，传授人说，“我决定了，我们就从较熟悉的事物开始，让我们再次回到山丘和雪橇上。”
他将双手放在乔纳思的背上。
Chapter 14
It was much the same, this memory, though the hill seemed to be a different one, steeper, and the snow was not falling as thickly as it had before.
It was colder, also, Jonas perceived. He could see, as he sat waiting at the top of the hill, that the snow beneath the sled was not thick and soft as it had been before, but hard, and coated with bluish ice.
The sled moved forward, and Jonas grinned with delight, looking forward to the breathtaking slide down through the invigorating air.
But the runners, this time, couldn't slice through the frozen expanse as they had on the other, snow-cushioned hill. They skittered sideways and the sled gathered speed. Jonas pulled at the rope, trying to steer, but the steepness and speed took control from his hands and he was no longer enjoying the feeling of freedom but instead, terrified, was at the mercy of the wild acceleration downward over the ice.
Sideways, spinning, the sled hit a bump in the hill and Jonas was jarred loose and thrown violently into the air. He fell with his leg twisted under him, and could hear the crack of bone. His face scraped along jagged edges of ice and when he came, at last, to a stop, he lay shocked and still, feeling nothing at first but fear.
Then, the first wave of pain. He gasped. It was as if a hatchet lay lodged in his leg, slicing through each nerve with a hot blade. In his agony he perceived the word "fire" and felt flames licking at the torn bone and flesh. He tried to move, and could not. The pain grew.
He screamed. There was no answer.
Sobbing, he turned his head and vomited onto the frozen snow. Blood dripped from his face into the vomit.
"Nooooo!" he cried, and the sound disappeared into the empty landscape, into the wind.
Then, suddenly, he was in the Annex room again, writhing on the bed. His face was wet with tears.
Able to move now, he rocked his own body back and forth, breathing deeply to release the remembered pain.
He sat, and looked at his own leg, where it lay straight on the bed, unbroken. The brutal slice of pain was gone. But the leg ached horribly, still, and his face felt raw.
"May I have relief-of-pain, please?" he begged. It was always provided in his everyday life for the bruises and wounds, for a mashed finger, a stomach ache, a skinned knee from a fall from a bike. There was always a daub of anesthetic ointment, or a pill; or in severe instances, an injection that brought complete and instantaneous deliverance.
But The Giver said no, and looked away.
Limping, Jonas walked home, pushing his bicycle, that evening. The sunburn pain had been so small, in comparison, and had not stayed with him. But this ache lingered.
It was not unendurable, as the pain on the hill had been. Jonas tried to be brave. He remembered that the Chief Elder had said he was brave.
"Is something wrong, Jonas?" his father asked at the evening meal. "You're so quiet tonight. Aren't you feeling well? Would you like some medication?"
But Jonas remembered the rules. No medication for anything related to his training.
And no discussion of his training. At the time for sharing-of-feelings, he simply said that he felt tired, that his school lessons had been unusually demanding that day.
He went to his sleeping room early, and from behind the closed door he could hear his parents and sister laughing as they gave Gabriel his evening bath.
They have never known pain, he thought. The realization made him feel desperately lonely, and he rubbed his throbbing leg. He eventually slept. Again and again he dreamed of the anguish and the isolation on the forsaken hill.
The daily training continued, and now it always included pain. The agony of the fractured leg began to seem no more than a mild discomfort as The Giver led Jonas firmly, little by little, into the deep and terrible suffering of the past. Each time, in his kindness, The Giver ended the afternoon with a color-filled memory of pleasure: a brisk sail on a blue-green lake; a meadow dotted with yellow wildflowers; an orange sunset behind mountains.
It was not enough to assuage the pain that Jonas was beginning, now, to know.
"Why?" Jonas asked him after he had received a torturous memory in which he had been neglected and unfed; the hunger had caused excruciating spasms in his empty, distended stomach. He lay on the bed, aching. "Why do you and I have to hold these memories?"
"It gives us wisdom," The Giver replied. "Without wisdom I could not fulfill my function of advising the Committee of Elders when they call upon me."
"But what wisdom do you get from hunger?" Jonas groaned. His stomach still hurt, though the memory had ended.
"Some years ago," The Giver told him, "before your birth, a lot of citizens petitioned the Committee of Elders. They wanted to increase the rate of births. They wanted each Birthmother to be assigned four births instead of three, so that the population would increase and there would be more Laborers available."
Jonas nodded, listening. "That makes sense."
"The idea was that certain family units could accommodate an additional child."
Jonas nodded again. "Mine could," he pointed out. "We have Gabriel this year, and it's fun, having a third child."
"The Committee of Elders sought my advice," The Giver said. "It made sense to them, too, but it was a new idea, and they came to me for wisdom."
"And you used your memories?"
The Giver said yes. "And the strongest memory that came was hunger. It came from many generations back. Centuries back. The population had gotten so big that hunger was everywhere. Excruciating hunger and starvation. It was followed by warfare."
Warfare? It was a concept Jonas did not know. But hunger was familiar to him now. Unconsciously he rubbed his own abdomen, recalling the pain of its unfulfilled needs. "So you described that to them?"
"They don't want to hear about pain. They just seek the advice. I simply advised them against increasing the population."
"But you said that that was before my birth. They hardly ever come to you for advice. Only when they — what was it you said? When they have a problem they've never faced before. When did it happen last?"
"Do you remember the day when the plane flew over the community?"
"Yes. I was scared."
"So were they. They prepared to shoot it down. But they sought my advice. I told them to wait."
"But how did you know? How did you know the pilot was lost?"
"I didn't. I used my wisdom, from the memories. I knew that there had been times in the past — terrible times — when people had destroyed others in haste, in fear, and had brought about their own destruction."
Jonas realized something. "That means," he said slowly, "that you have memories of destruction. And you have to give them to me, too, because I have to get the wisdom."
The Giver nodded.
"But it will hurt," Jonas said. It wasn't a question.
"It will hurt terribly," The Giver agreed.
"But why can't everyone have the memories? I think it would seem a little easier if the memories were shared. You and I wouldn't have to bear so much by ourselves, if everybody took a part."
The Giver sighed. "You're right," he said. "But then everyone would be burdened and pained. They don't want that. And that's the real reason The Receiver is so vital to them, and so honored. They selected me — and you — to lift that burden from themselves."
"When did they decide that?" Jonas asked angrily. "It wasn't fair. Let's change it!"
"How do you suggest we do that? I've never been able to think of a way, and I'm supposed to be the one with all the wisdom."
"But there are two of us now," Jonas said eagerly. "Together we can think of something!"
The Giver watched him with a wry smile.
"Why can't we just apply for a change of rules?" Jonas suggested.
The Giver laughed; then Jonas, too, chuckled reluctantly.
"The decision was made long before my time or yours," The Giver said, "and before the previous Receiver, and — " He waited.
"Back and back and back." Jonas repeated the familiar phrase. Sometimes it had seemed humorous to him. Sometimes it had seemed meaningful and important.
Now it was ominous. It meant, he knew, that nothing could be changed.
The new child Gabriel, was growing, and successfully passed the tests of maturity that the Nurturers gave each month; he could sit alone, now, could reach for and grasp small play objects, and he had six teeth. During the day-time hours, Father reported, he was cheerful and seemed of normal intelligence. But he remained fretful at night, whimpering often, needing frequent attention.
"After all this extra time I've put in with him," Father said one evening after Gabriel had been bathed and was lying, for the moment, hugging his hippo placidly in the small crib that had replaced the basket, "I hope they're not going to decide to release him."
"Maybe it would be for the best," Mother suggested. "I know you don't mind getting up with him at night. But the lack of sleep is awfully hard for me."
