乔纳思不想回到过去，他不要这些记忆，他不要这样的荣耀，他不要这样的智能，不要这些痛楚。他想要回到他的童年，那会擦伤的膝盖和充满球赛的童年。他独自一人坐在家里，从窗户看出去，看见孩子在玩游戏，市民忙完一天的工作，正骑着自行车回家。他们的生活是这样平静、没有丝毫痛苦，因为他们的沉痛记忆，都由他和过去的记忆传授人承担了。
但他别无选择，每天依然到安尼斯报到。
在分担了残忍的战争记忆过后，接下来好几天，传授人显得特别仁慈温和。
“有很多记忆是美好的。”传授人提醒乔纳思。这倒是真的，乔纳思体验了无数快乐、甜美的时光，那是他以前不曾体悟过的。
他参加过一次为一个小孩举办的庆生会。乔纳思这才了解身为独立、特殊、单一个体的喜悦和骄傲。
他参观了博物馆，欣赏色彩缤纷的画作，现在他已经知道所有色彩的名称了。
有一次，他骑着一匹浅棕色的骏马，漫步在洋溢着湿润草香的原野上。他在一条小溪流边下马，和马儿共饮冷冽清澈的溪水。现在他对动物有了更深一层的认识。当马儿离开溪边，亲昵地用头轻推他的肩膀时，他很惊讶动物和人之间可以建立如此亲密的关系。
他曾经穿越森林坐在营火边一整夜。虽然他经历过迷失和孤寂的痛苦，但现在，他体会到孤独的喜悦。
“您最喜欢哪段回忆？”有一次他问传授人，“您不必现在就传送给我，”他赶紧补充：“只要告诉我那个情景就行了，好让我心生期待，毕竟等到您的工作结束，我还是一样接收得到。”
传授人微微一笑：“躺下来，”他说，“我很乐意现在就转移给你。”
记忆一激活，乔纳思马上感受到欢乐的气氛。以前，他往往必须花点时间才能找到跟记忆的关连性，了解自己的所在。但是这一回，他立刻融入情境，感受到弥漫在回忆中的幸福与快乐。
屋子里到处都是人，壁炉里燃烧着熊熊火焰，暖烘烘的。窗外，夜幕低垂，大雪纷飞。最奇怪的是，室内布置了一棵树，树上挂满红、绿、黄和各式各样的彩灯。桌上闪亮的金烛台，插满了蜡烛，摇曳着柔和、闪烁的烛光。空气中菜香四溢，欢笑声此起彼落。一只金色卷毛小狗趴在地板上睡着了。
大树下堆满一盒盒用明亮的彩色纸、闪亮的蝴蝶结包扎得漂漂亮亮的东西。一个小孩拿起这一盒盒的东西，递给房间里的其他小孩子和像是父母亲的一对大人，还有安静地坐在沙发上笑吟吟的一对老公公和老婆婆。
乔纳思看着他们拆开包装盒上的蝴蝶结，打开鲜亮的包装纸，掀开盒子，从里头拿出玩具、衣服和书。大家开心地叫着、笑着互相拥抱。
最小的孩子跑过去坐在老婆婆的膝盖上，她轻轻摇晃着他，用脸颊轻磨他的脸蛋。
乔纳思睁开眼睛，心满意足地躺在床上，整个人还沉浸在温暖甜蜜的记忆中。他真想把这些永远珍藏起来。
“你体会到什么？”传授人问他。
“温暖，”乔纳思回答，“还有幸福，还有……让我想一想。家庭，这好像是在庆祝某种假日。还有一些别的东西——我一时也说不上来。”
“你一定可以感受到的。”
“那两位老人是谁？为什么他们会在那里？”房里有老人，让他十分困惑。社区里的老人从没离开过特别为他们设计的养老院，他们在那儿受到最完善的照顾和礼遇。
“他们叫做祖父母。”
“祖父母？”
“对，那是很久以前的称呼，就是父母的父母。”
“以前，以前，再以前？”乔纳思笑了起来，“所以事实上，还会有父母的父母的父母的父母？”
传授人也笑了：“没错，就好像你如果拿着镜子看镜子，就会看见自己正在照镜子，镜中镜又可看见自己在照镜子。”
乔纳思皱起眉头：“我的父母一定也有他们自己的父母！我以前怎么没想到这一点。我的父母的父母是谁？他们现在在哪里？”
“在档案管理中心查得到名字，但是，你不如先想一想，如果你申请孩子，他们的父母的父母会是谁？”
“当然是我的爸爸和妈妈。”
“那他们会在哪里呢？”
乔纳思想了一下，慢慢地说：“当训练结束，变成真正的大人后，我就会有自己的房子。几年后，等莉莉长大，她也会有自己的房子，也许还会有配偶；如果她提出申请，可能还会有孩子，那时候爸爸和妈妈……”
“没错。”
“如果他们还在工作，对社区有贡献，就会去跟其他没有孩子的成人一起住，不再出现在我们的生活中。然后，时间到了，他们就住进养老院。”乔纳思把自己的想法大声说出来，“接受最完善的照顾和礼遇，最后是一场解放庆祝仪式。”
“你不可能参加那场仪式的。”传授人强调。
“当然不会，我可能连什么时候举行都不清楚。那时，我和莉莉都忙着自己的生活，如果我们有孩子，他们也一样不知道自己的父母的父母是谁。”
“这个模式似乎不错，不是吗？我们的社区一直奉为法宝。”乔纳思问：“如果我不接收以前的记忆，我根本不知道还有其他的生活模式。”
“它们的确不错。”传授人肯定地说。
乔纳思迟疑了一会儿：“我确实很喜欢这段记忆，我也了解为什么它会是你的最爱。但我就是找不到恰当的字眼来形容我对这段记忆的感受，那弥漫在整个房间的气氛是那样强烈。”
“那气氛就是爱！”传授人告诉他。
乔纳思喃喃念了一次：“爱。”这对他来说是一个新概念。
两人沉默了一分钟，接着乔纳思问：“传授人？”
“什么事？”
“我知道这样说很愚蠢，非常非常愚蠢。”
“在这里没有什么话是愚蠢的，信任一切记忆，以及它给你的感受。”
“好吧！”乔纳思低头看着地板说：“我知道你已经不再拥有这些记忆了，所以也许您不了解……”
“我当然了解，我还残留了一点模糊的印象。而且，我还有很多关于家庭、假日、幸福等爱的记忆。”
乔纳思吞吞吐吐地说出自己的感受：“我在想……虽然这可能不切实际，但是如果可以跟老人住在一起，即使没有办法像现在那么完善地照顾，一切都安排得妥妥当当，但是，我觉得那种住在一起的感受，实在非常美好。我好希望我们仍旧维持以前的家庭方式，好希望您就是我的祖父母，那样的家庭感觉比较……”他找不到恰当的字眼。
“比较完整。”传授人补充。
乔纳思点点头：“我喜欢爱的感觉。”他紧张兮兮地瞄一眼墙上的扩音器，确定没有被任何人听到，"我希望我们仍拥有那些。”他喃喃地说，“当然啦，那样的组织不见得比现在好，我清楚地知道那样的生活方式比较危险。”
“你是指什么？”
乔纳思迟疑了一下，他也不确定自己指的是什么。他只感觉到那种生活方式有点冒险，却又说不出个所以然来。
“比方说，”他终于找到一个解释，“他们在房间里生火，壁炉里有熊熊大火，桌子上有蜡烛。火那么危险，怪不得会被禁止。”
“不过他慢慢地说，好像在自言自语，“我真的很喜欢他们点亮的火光，还有那股温暖的感觉。”
“爸爸妈妈。”晚餐过后，乔纳思说，“我有个问题想问您们。”
“什么问题，乔纳思？”爸爸问。
在从安尼斯回家的路上，他已不知道在心里默念过多少次这个字了，可是当他勉强说出来时，还是觉得很难为情。
“你们爱我吗？”
一阵难堪的沉默立刻弥漫开来……爸爸轻声一笑：“乔纳思，请你说准确一点！”
“什么意思？”乔纳思问。他不知道这有什么好笑的。
“爸爸是说你用了一个非常笼统的字，那个字没什么意义，几乎已经废弃不用了。”妈妈小心地解释。
乔纳思瞪大了眼睛，没有意义？但这是他记忆中最有意义的一件事。
“如果大家用语不准确，我们的社区就没办法好好运作。
你可以问：‘跟我相处愉快吗？’答案是：‘是的。’”妈妈说。
“或者，”爸爸建议，“‘你以我为荣吗？’答案绝对是：‘是的，我们以你为荣。’”
“现在你了解为什么用‘爱’这个字不恰当了吗？”妈妈问。
乔纳思点点头，“是的，我懂，谢谢您。”他慢慢地回答。
这是他第一次对父母说谎。
“加波！”乔纳思轻声呼唤小宝宝。
今晚小床又放到他的房间来了。加波在乔纳思的房间安稳地睡了四个晚上后，爸爸妈妈宣称实验成功，乔纳思实在了不起。现在加波成长得很快，在房间里到处爬，咯咯笑，并试图抓着东西站起来。爸爸高兴地说，只要他睡得安稳，他就可以通过育儿中心的测试，获得升级。等到十二月，他就可以被正式命名，拥有属于他自己的家庭。现在离十二月只剩两个月的时间了。
但是，一旦离开乔纳思的房间，他又不肯睡了，整夜啼哭，只好再送他回乔纳思的房间。
他们决定再多给他一点时间来适应。既然加波喜欢睡在乔纳思的房间，就让他多睡一阵子，直到他养成夜里熟睡的习惯。养育师们对加波的未来非常乐观。
加波对乔纳思的呼唤没有响应，他已经睡着了。
“事情会改变的，加波。”乔纳思继续说，“一定会和现在有所不同。我不知道会怎么变，但是一定有办法让事情变记忆传授人得不一样。以后会有颜色，还会有祖父母。”屋里一片昏暗，他抬头望着天花板，“每个人都会拥有记忆。”
“你知道什么是记忆吗？”他一边呢喃，一边转头注视着小床。
加波的呼吸既均匀又深沉。乔纳思很喜欢他留在这里，只是对自己暗中进行的事有点儿罪恶感。每天晚上，他都转移一些记忆给加波，有阳光下驾船或野餐的记忆；有小雨打在玻璃窗上的记忆；有光着脚丫在潮湿草地上跳舞的记忆。
“加波！”
小宝宝在睡眠中轻轻地挪动一下身子，乔纳思低头凝视着他。
“未来还会有爱。”乔纳思轻声低语。
第二天早上，头一回，乔纳思没有吃药。通过记忆的洗礼，他的认知逐渐提高，他知道该把药丸给扔了。
Chapter 17
TODAY IS DECLARED AN UNSCHEDULED HOLIDAY. Jonas, his parents, and Lily all turned in surprise and looked at the wall speaker from which the announcement had come. It happened so rarely, and was such a treat for the entire community when it did. Adults were exempted from the day's work, children from school and training and volunteer hours. The substitute Laborers, who would be given a different holiday, took over all the necessary tasks: nurturing, food delivery, and care of the Old; and the community was free.
Jonas cheered, and put his homework folder down. He had been about to leave for school. School was less important to him now; and before much more time passed, his formal schooling would end. But still, for Twelves, though they had begun their adult training, there were the endless lists of rules to be memorized and the newest technology to be mastered.
He wished his parents, sister, and Gabe a happy day, and rode down the bicycle path, looking for Asher.
He had not taken the pills, now, for four weeks. The Stirrings had returned, and he felt a little guilty and embarrassed about the pleasurable dreams that came to him as he slept. But he knew he couldn't go back to the world of no feelings that he had lived in so long.
And his new, heightened feelings permeated a greater realm than simply his sleep. Though he knew that his failure to take the pills accounted for some of it, he thought that the feelings came also from the memories. Now he could see all of the colors; and he could keep them, too, so that the trees and grass and bushes stayed green in his vision. Gabriel's rosy cheeks stayed pink, even when he slept. And apples were always, always red.
Now, through the memories, he had seen oceans and mountain lakes and streams that gurgled through woods; and now he saw the familiar wide river beside the path differently. He saw all of the light and color and history it contained and carried in its slow-moving water; and he knew that there was an Elsewhere from which it came, and an Elsewhere to which it was going.
On this unexpected, casual holiday he felt happy, as he always had on holidays; but with a deeper happiness than ever before. Thinking, as he always did, about precision of language, Jonas realized that it was a new depth of feelings that he was experiencing. Somehow they were not at all the same as the feelings that every evening, in every dwelling, every citizen analyzed with endless talk.
"I felt angry because someone broke the play area rules," Lily had said once, making a fist with her small hand to indicate her fury. Her family — Jonas among them — had talked about the possible reasons for rule breaking and the need for understanding and patience, until Lily's fist had relaxed and her anger was gone.
But Lily had not felt anger, Jonas realized now. Shallow impatience and exasperation, that was all Lily had felt. He knew that with certainty because now he knew what anger was. Now he had, in the memories, experienced injustice and cruelty, and he had reacted with rage that welled up so passionately inside him that the thought of discussing it calmly at the evening meal was unthinkable.
"I felt sad today," he had heard his mother say, and they had comforted her.
But now Jonas had experienced real sadness. He had felt grief. He knew that there was no quick comfort for emotions like those.
These were deeper and they did not need to be told. They were felt.
Today, he felt happiness.
"Asher!" He spied his friend's bicycle leaning against a tree at the edge of the playing field. Nearby, other bikes were strewn about on the ground. On a holiday the usual rules of order could be disregarded.
He skidded to a stop and dropped his own bike beside the others. "Hey, Ash!" he shouted, looking around. There seemed to be no one in the play area. "Where are you?"
"Psssheeewwww!" A child's voice, coming from behind a nearby bush, made the sound. "Pow! Pow! Pow!"
A female Eleven named Tanya staggered forward from where she had been hiding. Dramatically she clutched her stomach and stumbled about in a zig-zag pattern, groaning. "You got me!" she called, and fell to the ground, grinning.
"Blam!"
Jonas, standing on the side of the playing field, recognized Asher's voice. He saw his friend, aiming an imaginary weapon in his hand, dart from behind one tree to another. "Blam! You're in my line of ambush, Jonas! Watch out!"
Jonas stepped back. He moved behind Asher's bike and knelt so that he was out of sight. It was a game he had often played with the other children, a game of good guys and bad guys, a harmless past time that used up their contained energy and ended only when they all lay posed in freakish postures on the ground.
He had never recognized it before as a game of war.
"Attack!" The shout came from behind the small storehouse where play equipment was kept. Three children dashed forward, their imaginary weapons in firing position.
From the opposite side of the field came an opposing shout: "Counter-attack!" From their hiding places a horde of children — Jonas recognized Fiona in the group — emerged, running in a crouched position, firing across the field. Several of them stopped, grabbed their own shoulders and chests with exaggerated gestures, and pretended to be hit. They dropped to the ground and lay suppressing giggles.
Feelings surged within Jonas. He found himself walking forward into the field.
"You're hit, Jonas!" Asher yelled from behind the tree. "Pow! You're hit again!"
Jonas stood alone in the center of the field. Several of the children raised their heads and looked at him uneasily. The attacking armies slowed, emerged from their crouched positions, and watched to see what he was doing.
In his mind, Jonas saw again the face of the boy who had lain dying on a field and had begged him for water. He had a sudden choking feeling, as if it were difficult to breathe.
One of the children raised an imaginary rifle and made an attempt to destroy him with a firing noise. "Pssheeew!" Then they were all silent, standing awkwardly, and the only sound was the sound of Jonas's shuddering breaths. He was struggling not to cry.
Gradually, when nothing happened, nothing changed, the children looked at each other nervously and went away. He heard the sounds as they righted their bicycles and began to ride down the path that led from the field.
Only Asher and Fiona remained.
"What's wrong, Jonas? It was only a game," Fiona said.
"You ruined it," Asher said in an irritated voice.
"Don't play it anymore," Jonas pleaded.
"I'm the one who's training for Assistant Recreation Director," Asher pointed out angrily. "Games aren't your area of expertness."
"Expertise," Jonas corrected him automatically.
"Whatever. You can't say what we play, even if you are going to be the new Receiver." Asher looked warily at him. "I apologize for not paying you the respect you deserve," he mumbled.
"Asher," Jonas said. He was trying to speak carefully, and with kindness, to say exactly what he wanted to say. "You had no way of knowing this. I didn't know it myself until recently. But it's a cruel game. In the past, there have — "
"I said I apologize, Jonas."
Jonas sighed. It was no use. Of course Asher couldn't understand. "I accept your apology, Asher," he said wearily.
"Do you want to go for a ride along the river, Jonas?" Fiona asked, biting her lip with nervousness.
Jonas looked at her. She was so lovely. For a fleeting instant he thought he would like nothing better than to ride peacefully along the river path, laughing and talking with his gentle female friend. But he knew that such times had been taken from him now. He shook his head. After a moment his two friends turned and went to their bikes. He watched as they rode away.
Jonas trudged to the bench beside the Storehouse and sat down, overwhelmed with feelings of loss. His childhood, his friendships, his carefree sense of security — all of these things seemed to be slipping away. With his new, heightened feelings, he was overwhelmed by sadness at the way the others had laughed and shouted, playing at war. But he knew that they could not understand why, without the memories. He felt such love for Asher and for Fiona. But they could not feel it back, without the memories. And he could not give them those. Jonas knew with certainty that he could change nothing.
Back in their dwelling, that evening, Lily chattered merrily about the wonderful holiday she had had, playing with her friends, having her midday meal out of doors, and (she confessed) sneaking a very short try on her father's bicycle.
"I can't wait till I get my very own bicycle next month. Father's is too big for me. I fell," she explained matter-of-factly.
"Good thing Gabe wasn't in the child seat!"
"A very good thing," Mother agreed, frowning at the idea of it. Gabriel waved his arms at the mention of himself. He had begun to walk just the week before. The first steps of a new child were always the occasion for celebration at the Nurturing Center, Father said, but also for the introduction of a discipline wand. Now Father brought the slender instrument home with him each night, in case Gabriel misbehaved.
But he was a happy and easygoing toddler. Now he moved unsteadily across the room, laughing. "Gay!" he chirped. "Gay!" It was the way he said his own name.
Jonas brightened. It had been a depressing day for him, after such a bright start. But he set his glum thoughts aside. He thought about starting to teach Lily to ride so that she could speed off proudly after her Ceremony of Nine, which would be coming soon. It was hard to believe that it was almost December again, that almost a year had passed since he had become a Twelve.
He smiled as he watched the new child plant one small foot carefully before the other, grinning with glee at his own steps as he tried them out.
"I want to get to sleep early tonight," Father said. "Tomorrow's a busy day for me. The twins are being born tomorrow, and the test results show that they're identical."
"One for here, one for Elsewhere," Lily chanted. "One for here, one for Else — "
"Do you actually take it Elsewhere, Father?" Jonas asked.
"No, I just have to make the selection. I weigh them, hand the larger over to a Nurturer who's standing by, waiting, and then I get the smaller one all cleaned up and comfy. Then I perform a small Ceremony of Release and — " He glanced down, grinning at Gabriel. "Then I wave bye-bye," he said, in the special sweet voice he used when he spoke to the new child He waved his hand in the familiar gesture.
