乔纳思瞄了一眼时钟，发现时间已经过了大半。要做的事情总是那么多，他和传授人很少像刚才那样单纯聊天。
“很抱歉我问了那么多问题，浪费了时间。”乔纳思说，“因为今天我爸爸要解放一名新生儿，所以我才会问起解放的事。今天有一对双胞胎出生，他必须做个选择，解放其中一个，留下体重较重的宝宝。”乔纳思又瞄了一下时钟，“他应该已经完成了，那是今天早上的事。”
传授人神情非常凝重：“我希望他们不要这样做。”他几乎是自言自语。
“因为社区里不能有两个一模一样的人啊！否则就要天下大乱了！”乔纳思轻声一笑。
“真希望我可以在一旁观看。”他又补上一句。他想看看爸爸怎么举行解放仪式，怎么帮较轻的新生儿清洁、打理一切。爸爸是个体贴的人。
“你可以看。”传授人说。
“不行，”乔纳思告诉他，“小孩不能观看，这是秘密进行的。”
“乔纳思，”传授人告诉他，“你不是仔细读过训练规则吗？别忘了，你可以问任何问题。”
乔纳思点点头：“我记得，但是……”
“乔纳思，当我们一起工作一段时间后，你就是新的记忆传授人。你可以读书，你会获得所有的记忆，你将接受一切。这是受训的一部分，如果你想看解放仪式，你尽管提出要求。”
乔纳思耸耸肩，“好吧！不过这次太晚了，我确定仪式已在早上举行过了。”
传授人告诉他一些他还不知道的事：“所有秘密进行的仪式都会录像存放在机密档案室里。你想看今天早上的解放仪式吗？”
乔纳思迟疑了，他担心爸爸知道了会不高兴，因为那是秘密仪式。
“我觉得你应该看。”传授人坚定地告诉他。
“好吧，请告诉我怎么做。”乔纳思说。
传授人从椅子上站起来，走到墙上的对讲机旁，“咔哒”
一声，把开关扳到开的位置。
对讲机马上传来声音：“您好，记忆传授人，请问有什么吩咐？”
“我想看今天早上双胞胎的解放仪式。”
“请稍候，记忆传授人。谢谢您的指示。”
乔纳思望着开关上面的屏幕，原本空白的画面开始闪现锯齿状的线条，接着出现一些数字，接下来是日期和时间。他既震惊又高兴，没想到使用这么方便，自己以前竟然不知道。
突然间，屏幕上出现一个没有窗户的小房间，地板上铺着褪色的地毯，里头只有一张床、一张桌子，还有一个橱柜，桌上放了某种仪器——乔纳思认出那是一个磅秤：他在育婴中心当义工时曾经见过。
“只是一间普通的房间嘛。”他说，“我还以为会在礼堂举行，好让大家都参加，就像所有的老人都去参加解放仪式一样。会不会是因为他才刚出生，不…
“嘘！”传授人说，眼睛看着屏幕。
屏幕上，乔纳思的爸爸穿着养育师的制服，进入房间，他的手臂上抱着一个用柔软的毯子包裹着的新生儿。另一个没有穿制服的女孩儿尾随在后，手上用相同的毯子包着另一名新生儿。
“那是我爸爸。”乔纳思自然而然地压低声音，生怕吵醒小家伙似的，“另一个人是他的助手，还在受训，但很快就要完成训练了。”
两位养育师打开毯子，将一模一样的双胞胎放在床上。
他们全身赤裸，一看就知道是男孩儿。
他全神贯注地看着爸爸轻轻地举起其中一个，放到磅秤上量体重，再举起另一个。
他听见爸爸在笑：“很好，”爸爸对助手说：“我还以为他们连体重都一样，那麻烦可就大了。不过这一个，”他将其中一个重新包好，交给助手，“刚好六磅。你把他清洗干净，穿上衣服，带到育婴中心。”
助手抱着新生儿走出门口。
乔纳思看见爸爸弯腰对床上扭着身子的新生儿说：“至于你呢，小家伙，你只有五磅十盎斯，小虾米一只。”
“他都是用这种声调跟加波说话的。”乔纳思微笑着说。
“专心看。”传授人说。
“现在帮小宝宝清洗，让他舒舒服服的。”乔纳思说，“爸爸早告诉我了。”
“安静，乔纳思。”传授人用怪异的声音下了命令，“注意看。”
乔纳思不再出声，专心看屏幕。他对仪式本身很好奇。
爸爸转身打开橱柜，拿出一支针管和一个小瓶子。他小心翼翼地将针头伸入小瓶子中，不一会儿针管便注满透明的液体。
乔纳思同情地缩了一下身体，他忘了新生儿还得打针。
他自己很讨厌打针，虽然他知道这是必要的。
出乎意料的是，爸爸竟然很小心地将针头插人小宝宝的脑门儿，小宝宝的脉搏在脆弱的肌肤下跳动着，他扭动全身，发出嚶嚶的哭泣声。
“他为什么……”
“嘘！”传授人低声制止。
他的爸爸正在说话，乔纳思这才想到，他可以听到他原先提问的答案。爸爸用他那种特殊的音调说：“我知道，我知道，这很痛，小家伙。但是我必须找到静脉，你手上的静脉太细了。”
他以很慢的速度推动针管，将液体注入头皮的静脉，直到注射管完全空了。
“完成了，没有那么糟嘛，不是吗？”乔纳思听见爸爸开心地说，转身将针管丢进垃圾桶。
乔纳思知道传授人不想说话，因此自言自语地说：“原来这就是帮他清洁、让他舒适的方法。”
乔纳思继续观看，小宝宝已经不再哭泣，他的手脚突然抽动了一下，然后瘫软下来。他的头垂向一边，眼睛半闭着，完全静止不动了。
乔纳思的内心涌起怪异、震惊的感受，他看过这样的姿势和表情，那模样是如此熟悉，只是一时想不起来在哪里见过。
乔纳思瞪着屏幕，等着后面事情的发展。但是较小的双胞胎一动也不动地躺着，他的爸爸正在收拾东西，折好毯子，关上橱柜。
他仿佛再度回到战场，空气几乎凝固了。他看见那张披散着金发的脸庞，那个浑身是血、眼神空洞的士兵——那种记忆回来了。
他杀了婴儿！我的爸爸杀了婴儿！乔纳思被自己刚刚了解的真相吓坏了。他麻木地瞪着屏幕。
爸爸将房间收拾干净后，再将地板上的一个小纸箱拿到床上，把软绵绵的尸体放进去，将盖子盖严。
他拿起纸箱，走到房间的另一头，打开墙上的小门，乔纳思看见门后漆黑一片，就跟学校放置垃圾的斜槽一样。
爸爸把装着尸体的纸箱放人斜槽，轻轻一推。
乔纳思听见爸爸在离开房间前说：“再见了，小家伙。”
然后屏幕一片空白。
传授人转身面对他’非常平静地开始叙述：“广播员通知我，萝丝玛丽已经要求解放，他们就将过程放给我看。她就站在那儿等着，那是我最后一次看见那孩子漂亮的身影。
他们带着针管，要她卷起袖子。
乔纳思，你曾问我她是不是不够勇敢？我不了解勇敢，勇敢到底是什么？又有什么特殊含意？我只知道我无力地坐在这里，吓坏了，全身发冷。我听见萝丝玛丽告诉他们，她宁可自己注射。
她真的这样做了，我没有看，我把头转开了。”
传授人看着他：“好啦，乔纳思，这就是你一直想知道的解放。”他的声音充满苦涩。
仿佛有人在撕扯乔纳思的胸腔，巨大的痛楚一波波涌现，最后爆发成撕心裂肺的哭喊声。
Chapter 20
"I won't! I won't go home! You can't make me!" Jonas sobbed and shouted and pounded the bed with his fists.
"Sit up, Jonas," The Giver told him firmly.
Jonas obeyed him. Weeping, shuddering, he sat on the edge of the bed. He would not look at The Giver.
"You may stay here tonight. I want to talk to you. But you must be quiet now, while I notify your family unit. No one must hear you cry."
Jonas looked up wildly. "No one heard that little twin cry, either! No one but my father!" He collapsed in sobs again.
The Giver waited silently. Finally Jonas was able to quiet himself and he sat huddled, his shoulders shaking.
The Giver went to the wall speaker and clicked the switch to ON.
"Yes, Receiver. How may I help you?"
"Notify the new Receiver's family unit that he will be staying with me tonight, for additional training."
"I will take care of that, sir. Thank you for your instructions," the voice said.
"I will take care of that, sir. I will take care of that, sir," Jonas mimicked in a cruel, sarcastic voice. "I will do whatever you like, sir. I will kill people, sir. Old people? Small newborn people? I'd be happy to kill them, sir. Thank you for your instructions, sir. How may I help y — " He couldn't seem to stop.
The Giver grasped his shoulders firmly. Jonas fell silent and stared at him.
"Listen to me, Jonas. They can't help it. They know nothing."
"You said that to me once before."
"I said it because it's true. It's the way they live. It's the life that was created for them. It's the same life that you would have, if you had not been chosen as my successor."
"But he lied to me!" Jonas wept.
"It's what he was told to do, and he knows nothing else."
"What about you? Do you lie to me, too?" Jonas almost spat the question at The Giver.
"I am empowered to lie. But I have never lied to you."
Jonas stared at him. "Release is always like that? For people who break the rules three times? For the Old? Do they kill the Old, too?"
"Yes, it's true."
"And what about Fiona? She loves the Old! She's in training to care for them. Does she know yet? What will she do when she finds out? How will she feel?" Jonas brushed wetness from his face with the back of one hand.
"Fiona is already being trained in the fine art of release," The Giver told him. "She's very efficient at her work, your red-haired friend. Feelings are not part of the life she's learned."
Jonas wrapped his arms around himself and rocked his own body back and forth. "What should I do? I can't go back! I can't!"
The Giver stood up. "First, I will order our evening meal. Then we will eat."
Jonas found himself using the nasty, sarcastic voice again. "Then we'll have a sharing of feelings?"
The Giver gave a rueful, anguished, empty laugh. "Jonas, you and I are the only ones who have feelings. We've been sharing them now for almost a year."
"I'm sorry, Giver," Jonas said miserably. "I don't mean to be so hateful. Not to you."
The Giver rubbed Jonas's hunched shoulders. "And after we eat," he went on, "we'll make a plan."
Jonas looked up, puzzled. "A plan for what? There's nothing. There's nothing we can do. It's always been this way. Before me, before you, before the ones who came before you. Back and back and back." His voice trailed the familiar phrase.
"Jonas," The Giver said, after a moment, "it's true that it has been this way for what seems forever. But the memories tell us that it has not always been. People felt things once. You and I have been part of that, so we know. We know that they once felt things like pride, and sorrow, and — "
"And love," Jonas added, remembering the family scene that had so affected him. "And pain." He thought again of the soldier.
"The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared."
"I've started to share them with you," Jonas said, trying to cheer him.
"That's true. And having you here with me over the past year has made me realize that things must change. For years I've felt that they should, but it seemed so hopeless.
"Now for the first time I think there might be a way," The Giver said slowly. "And you brought it to my attention, barely — " he glanced at the clock, "two hours ago."
Jonas watched him, and listened.
It was late at night, now. They had talked and talked. Jonas sat wrapped in a robe belonging to The Giver, the long robe that only Elders wore.
It was possible, what they had planned. Barely possible. If it failed, he would very likely be killed.
But what did that matter? If he stayed, his life was no longer worth living.
"Yes," he told The Giver. "I'll do it. I think I can do it. I'll try, anyway. But I want you to come with me."
The Giver shook his head. "Jonas," he said, "the community has depended, all these generations, back and back and back, on a resident Receiver to hold their memories for them. I've turned over many of them to you in the past year. And I can't take them back. There's no way for me to get them back if I have given them.
"So if you escape, once you are gone — and, Jonas, you know that you can never return — "
Jonas nodded solemnly. It was the terrifying part. "Yes," he said, "I know. But if you come with me — "
The Giver shook his head and made a gesture to silence him. He continued. "If you get away, if you get beyond, if you get to Elsewhere, it will mean that the community has to bear the burden themselves, of the memories you had been holding for them.
"I think that they can, and that they will acquire some wisdom. But it will be desperately hard for them. When we lost Rosemary ten years ago, and her memories returned to the people, they panicked. And those were such few memories, compared to yours. When your memories return, they'll need help. Remember how I helped you in the beginning, when the receiving of memories was new to you?"
Jonas nodded. "It was scary at first. And it hurt a lot."
"You needed me then. And now they will."
"It's no use. They'll find someone to take my place. They'll choose a new Receiver."
"There's no one ready for training, not right away. Oh, they'll speed up the selection, of course. But I can't think of another child who has the right qualities — "
"There's a little female with pale eyes. But she's only a Six."
"That's correct. I know the one you mean. Her name is Katharine. But she's too young. So they will be forced to bear those memories."
"I want you to come, Giver," Jonas pleaded.
"No. I have to stay here," The Giver said firmly. "I want to, Jonas. If I go with you, and together we take away all their protection from the memories, Jonas, the community will be left with no one to help them. They'll be thrown into chaos. They'll destroy themselves. I can't go."
"Giver," Jonas suggested, "you and I don't need to care about the rest of them."
The Giver looked at him with a questioning smile. Jonas hung his head. Of course they needed to care. It was the meaning of everything.
"And in any case, Jonas," The Giver sighed, "I wouldn't make it. I'm very weakened now. Do you know that I no longer see colors?"
Jonas's heart broke. He reached for The Giver's hand.
"You have the colors," The Giver told him. "And you have the courage. I will help you to have the strength."
"A year ago," Jonas reminded him, "when I had just become a Twelve, when I began to see the first color, you told me that the beginning had been different for you. But that I wouldn't understand."
The Giver brightened. "That's true. And do you know, Jonas, that with all your knowledge now, with all your memories, with all you've learned — still you won't understand? Because I've been a little selfish. I haven't given any of it to you. I wanted to keep it for myself to the last."
"Keep what?"
"When I was just a boy, younger than you, it began to come to me. But it wasn't the seeing-beyond for me. It was different. For me, it was hearing-beyond."
Jonas frowned, trying to figure that out. "What did you hear?" he asked.
"Music," The Giver said, smiling. "I began to hear something truly remarkable, and it is called music. I'll give you some before I go."
Jonas shook his head emphatically. "No, Giver," he said. "I want you to keep that, to have with you, when I'm gone."
Jonas went home the next morning, cheerfully greeted his parents, and lied easily about what a busy, pleasant night he had had.
His father smiled and lied easily, too, about his busy and pleasant day the day before.
Throughout the school day, as he did his lessons, Jonas went over the plan in his head. It seemed startlingly simple. Jonas and The Giver had gone over it and over it, late into the night hours.
For the next two weeks, as the time for the December Ceremony approached, The Giver would transfer every memory of courage and strength that he could to Jonas. He would need those to help him find the Elsewhere that they were both sure existed. They knew it would be a very difficult journey.
Then, in the middle of the night before the Ceremony, Jonas would secretly leave his dwelling. This was probably the most dangerous part, because it was a violation of a major rule for any citizen not on official business to leave a dwelling at night.
"I'll leave at midnight," Jonas said. "The Food Collectors will be finished picking up the evening-meal remains by then, and the Path-Maintenance Crews don't start their work that early. So there won't be anyone to see me, unless of course someone is out on emergency business."
"I don't know what you should do if you are seen, Jonas," The Giver had said. "I have memories, of course, of all kinds of escapes. People fleeing from terrible things throughout history. But every situation is individual. There is no memory of one like this."
"I'll be careful," Jonas said. "No one will see me."
"As Receiver-in-training, you're held in very high respect already. So I think you wouldn't be questioned very forcefully."
"I'd just say I was on some important errand for the Receiver. I'd say it was all your fault that I was out after hours," Jonas teased.
They both laughed a little nervously. But Jonas was certain that he could slip away, unseen, from his house, carrying an extra set of clothing. Silently he would take his bicycle to the riverbank and leave it there hidden in bushes with the clothing folded beside it.
Then he would make his way through the darkness, on foot, silently, to the Annex.
"There's no nighttime attendant," The Giver explained. "I'll leave the door unlocked. You simply slip into the room. I'll be waiting for you."
His parents would discover, when they woke, that he was gone. They would also find a cheerful note from Jonas on his bed, telling them that he was going for an early morning ride along the river; that he would be back for the Ceremony.
