Chapter 20 Chapter 19 The Birth of Ms. Zero

"A person's ability to act with conscience depends on the extent to which she transcends the confines of her own society and becomes a citizen of the world...the most important quality is having the courage to say 'no', the courage to say no Obedience to the orders of might, and disobedience to the orders of public opinion..." In the early autumn of 1990, my mother "died" quietly in one night's sleep due to acute heart failure induced by left ventricular insufficiency. The "dead", I put quotation marks because it was just the doctor and the people around her saying that she died.

But I don't think so. The mother's sleeping appearance is very peaceful, as if she is dreaming a beautiful dream, maybe she is dreaming that she is accidentally walking on a wide asphalt road in P City. I know that since my mother fell ill, due to the feeling of suffocation, she especially likes open views, lush trees and lush weeds. The grandeur of the streets of P City fits her ideal street appearance.I imagine that perhaps in her sleep at night, she is looking at the city she has lived in for more than 50 years with eyes that are no longer young, and looking eagerly at every old tree and old-style building on the roadside. The door opening even fell on a stone that was washed and polished very smooth by the side of the road; she carefully looked at every wall she passed, looking for the marks and patterns washed out by rainwater and wind and sand. Lurks the secret of her youth that never returns.Her eyes are like a pair of arms, caressing the passing street scenery caressingly, as if time has flown back, and her deep-set eye sockets radiate a gratifying light.

Her final sleeping state has made me deny to this day that she is dead. At the same time, I also began to secretly have a secret in my heart: my mother did not leave me, but because of suffocation, her internal organs gradually lost their vitality, maybe like airtight parts, worms grew, and she took her His body was thrown away and transformed into an invisible man.She was just joking with the world. However, the doctor and the people around me had no sense of humor and agreed that she was really dead, and even the professors in my college stupidly believed it, and said that I had something wrong with my brain and sent me to the hospital for treatment (I It was at this time that I met Qi Luo, the psychiatrist mentioned at the beginning).The college used this as an excuse to order me to suspend my studies.

I secretly analyzed the reasons for this repeatedly in my heart. I knew where the problem was. The key is that I have not been able to tell the color of the bullet that pierced my left calf. Is it red or black?The two colors of the bullet signify two different properties.This relates to my other question. But I couldn't find that bullet.I hit that shot quite by accident. How can I answer that? I remember that at that time, I secretly told Dr. Qi Luo about this conjecture, and I saw him write on my medical record: logical disorder of thinking, symbolic thinking, and split association process.

I regard him as a friend, but I find that he is not on my side. Afterwards, I stopped telling him the truth.However, he was still keen to help me.I often tell lies to him and hide my true thoughts, but this does not prevent him from being my friend.He often lent me books on psychiatry.The knowledge in this area really helped me to understand and adjust myself step by step. In the beginning, I insisted on saying to everyone around me, "My mother is not dead, she is kidding us all." However, everyone (except Qi Luo) looked at me suspiciously after hearing my words, and then began to avoid me, as if they were very afraid of seeing me.

Later I learned my lesson and didn't say anything anymore.But I know very well that what they see is a false reality. I went home and looked in the mirror, looking for reasons why people were avoiding me.I found nothing terrible about my appearance, not even my eyes were swollen, because I never cried. Why are you crying?I firmly believe that my mother is not dead as they say. After the mother's body disappeared, all the flowing sounds in her room, such as the ticking of the wall clock and the sound of running water in the pipes, seemed to have died. However, her clothes are still alive, I firmly believe that.

I often knock on the door of her room, then use the key to open the door by myself, say "Mom, are you asleep?", and walk in.Then I had a long conversation with her clothes.They were indeed alive, for I literally heard her clothes speak to me. One day, when I was walking on the street in the evening, I met a girl who looked like He. She was watching the shadows of leaves dancing under the street lamps under the shade of a locust tree.She looked at those shadows flowing like dark clouds for a long time, and I watched her for a long time. Finally, I couldn't restrain my curiosity, and walked over to her and asked, "What are you looking at?"

Of course I didn't care what she was looking at, I just wanted to be closer to her, to see her face. She pointed to the mottled leaves on the side of the asphalt road under the street lamp and said, "Look, these leaves are shaking. Are they shaking?" I said, "No, or you'd be shaking and shaking too. That's the wind." The girl said, "Look, the trunk is shaking too." I avoided the shadow of the tree and looked up at the tree trunk. Sure enough, it was shaking slightly, quietly.I held out a hand to confirm it was true.Those tree shadows seemed to be a huge long hair, dancing in the breeze, and the roots tied it like a button.

I'm really a little fuzzy. However, I am not interested in the question of whether there is an earthquake. What is an earthquake compared to the vibrations in my heart in recent times? I said, "How can you be interested in observing the shadows of trees under street lamps for so long? It's so boring." The girl said, "What else is there to talk about?" I said, "I don't know." After my mother disappeared, I have observed for a long time at dusk how the sunlight receded from the wall little by little, and I also scouted the hidden whereabouts of a mouse in a day; I observed how the footsteps of winter first came to me fingertips before spreading to my whole body.This habit of observation started after all my close friends left me.

So at the moment, I understand her very well. The swaying tree shadows on the ground suddenly gave me an unreal sense of alienation between my body and the surrounding environment, as if there was some kind of gap between me and the world, as if a glass screen was placed, through which everything was nothingness Get ethereal. For a moment, my mind was not my own, and it wasn't really me standing there, but someone called "Ms. Zero". This strange feeling lasted for about a few minutes before disappearing. Then, I gradually saw the girl's face clearly.She doesn't look very much like He, but she looks a bit like him in the distance.

I turned and left. "Goodbye." I said. At night, when I was in my mother's room, I opened her closet and told about the clothes. Mother's clothes said: "The girl must be very lonely." It is very strange that the voice is exactly the same as the mother's voice. Another time, also at dusk, I was walking casually on the side of the street, a ray of bleak sunset red shot through the gradually thinning branches and leaves, and slanted onto the faces of the bustling crowd, and there was a fragrance of autumn floating in the air .The shops on the side of the road are closed, as if all the souls are wandering on the street.A shuttle of cars passing by in front of my eyes like lightning. I suddenly had an urge to jump under the tires of a fast-moving car in the middle of the road. I couldn't help feeling that this was a kind of "reincarnation" that could regenerate. At this moment, a handsome man came over.interrupted my association. He said, "Two tickets for you." I froze for a while, then realized.Say, "What ticket?" "It's a disco ticket," he said. I said, "Why did you send me?" He didn't say anything, just smiled, then turned and left. How strange! At night, I came to my mother's room, and I heard her voice in the air saying, "Don't go to that disco to dance, it may be a conspiracy, or it may be a conspiracy." I am afraid, why would someone harm me? Later, someone helped me sell my mother's house in order to stop me talking about my mother's clothes-this "improper behavior" (they called it improper behavior), and for my life. I live off this money. However, that didn't stop our conversation from continuing.Not only that, but I can also hear my thoughts silently, and there are often voices talking in my head, which are exactly what I think but have not yet said. One afternoon, I was sitting on the sofa and was about to read a book. The room was empty, and there was a little spider on the roof. I observed it for a while, but I couldn't figure out what it was doing hiding there all day.The thin rain and mist outside the window blew on the gauze curtain, and I noticed that the raindrops slowly condensed and formed raindrops, like wet birds perched on my gauze curtain. At this time, I heard a voice, as if it was just an invisible tongue in the air saying, "Read a book, read a book" so I buried my head in the book. I remember I was watching Kafka.I've read this novel before, and it's about a person turning into a big worm.But for some reason, I have never reached such a deep resonance with the author at this moment.I was very excited and restless. Looking at it, I don’t know if the contents of the book infected me, or what happened, I suddenly felt a certain pulling, tearing, flowing, swimming or crawling feeling inside my body, but I couldn’t figure it out. What exactly is this feeling, and where is the specific part.I am very irritable.Later, I finally figured out that it might be a lot of worm-like black words crawling and shuttling in my blood. So, I took out the paper and pen, and planned to write the black characters like little bugs in the blood. From then on, I started a life of non-stop writing.Moreover, this kind of life is unstoppable. At the time, I wrote a different story than Kafka's: "How a Man Becomes a Book." Let me start with the theory of evolution: It is said that we humans evolved from animals, so we believe that humans cannot eat pigs, beef, and mutton; and animals evolved from plants, so humans cannot eat vegetables; vegetables come from the ground. It grows out, so we humans cannot stand on the ground... According to this theory of evolution, our feet must always be on our shoulders, and human beings cannot survive.so.I think this is a fallacy. I think that the evolution of human beings is formed by constantly walking forward. Every time 10,000 kilometers are walked forward, there will be a step of evolution; every time the life of a clock is completed, human history will evolve to a new level. stage. Then, I drew a map of the earth molecules. Since culture entered human history, the air-like language has swallowed us like a vast ocean, permeating our breath every day, and crawling all over our bones like ants.About how "ants" use the spirit of "gnawing bones" to turn a person into a book, and look at a complicated and long-standing evolution process... Thoughts are gathering in my mind, and a large number of unsystematic content is forced to emerge, from east to west, from Zhang San to Li Si, messy and changeable.I just thought about one thing, and then turned to another thing, which was beyond my expectation. Before I knew it, a dozen more lines of writing had been left on the page: Last name?My surname is Ni, and it seems like one person is actually several people.old place.Running with one foot in different directions.The other ear seeks in the garden, knocking.my only love.Latent memory fiction.various places.Good guy, Allright. wily.machine gun.eat more.Ah, yes, rumbling... Crackling My fingers may have been too hard, so stiff that they were sore, I had to stop and shake my wrist. When I went back to read these lines of handwriting again, I suddenly realized that I didn't understand at all. After writing for a while, I felt tired, and my peripheral vision fell on a glass on the desk. The aroma of bright red wild strawberries on the grass was emitting from the glass.I was very thirsty, so I stood up and made a cup of tea.Then I sat back on the sofa, and suddenly I felt that someone was sitting opposite me, staring at me. I was just about to drink tea.Then I heard a voice whispering in my ear, "Drink water, drink water." How strange. It started to rain, and I jumped up from the sofa to close the window, and saw that the air outside was filled with thick silver-gray rain and fog.The dense rain feet compressed the water vapor tightly, and the whole city looked like a hollow wreck.The gradually darkening sky is full of my thoughts, which lie behind every drop of raindrops, and my gaze of gazing at the rain and mist collides with those thoughts, as if revisiting the past.I drew the curtains tightly, refusing to recall all the past. Then, I ran to the bathroom to use the toilet, and when I pulled the cistern, there was a strange voice in the rumbling running water, "Thus spoke Zarathusra! Thus spoke Zarathusra!" I freaked out and ran out of the bathroom. However, in the sound of my heavy footsteps, there was another cry of "stand up, hold on!"The sound chased my feet, and entered my room before my steps, spinning and expanding with a loud echo, like a brick falling to the ground, which I couldn't bear. It's over!I was scared out of my wits by myself and collapsed on the sofa. In order to escape the fear, I started to scribble on the paper during the following chaotic days, spraying "beads" and "jade" like pouring out a lot of space codes, and I didn't eat or drink , just writing crazily, and the words pile up more and more: Lost Lamb: The Bible says that God is the "Shepherd" and the crowd are "lost lambs".Not knowing where to go is the tragedy of human beings.I think it is a naive and ridiculous idea for people to desire to sit on an equal footing with God and pursue equal communication.Because they are not equal, communication is impossible. Otherwise, why don't aliens talk to us humans? Why don't we humans talk to ants?Because they are not on the same level.In terms of master-slave relationship, although this kind of communication is also two-way in form, the content is completely different in essence.At this time, the "shepherd"'s concern for the "lamb" is completely different from the expectation of the "lamb" for the "shepherd". environment and so on.What the "lamb" expects is what kind of feed it can get, whether the sheepfold can keep out the cold, whether it will be whipped and so on.If the "sheep" raised by the "shepherd" do not stay obediently in the pen or shed where they should stay, but run into the magnificent room of the "shepherd" without authorization, trying to exchange ideas, then it is a violation of the rules of heaven , was dealt with... About Ms. Zero: It means "without me".You want me to clarify what "without me" is.A cold wind blew into my brain from my forehead, my hair was divided into three pieces, loose, straight, sparkling satin.These three petals represent my three strands of thinking, the strand on the left is what I don't want, it goes against my will; the strand in the middle is ambiguous and specious; the strand on the right is my wish.Standing in front of the mirror, I saw black wings fluttering above my head, the color of June in summer. The wings broke off suddenly, but the bird flew over my head, leaving only a pile of feathers densely piled on top of my head. One day Darker and colder than the day, as if rotting. I woke up and found my head was empty.Uneasiness permeated throughout his body.Scared scared.I want to go home, go back to the old place.The door of the room was closed tightly, and the abandoned garden surrounded by glass.She was gone, packed in an oval wooden box, her two legs were dangling on the wooden box, she stood expressionlessly, she had the face of a dead person.The coffin walked by itself and came to me, and I was overwhelmed.The wreath is made of fake flowers, with hidden secrets. Strangers always come up to hold my hand, give me some secret hint, and use light radiation to remind me of the existence of the "bacteria factory".I heard the hiss of "Nuclear Reactor".Something circled around me on purpose, and I realized that this city was not my home. The square was gone, and even the windows with rusty railings were gone.The sloping narrow alley that kissed my feet was covered with weeds and moss, and there was no response. All acquaintances are disguises, not real... I'm gone... I'm gone... My name is Ms. Zero. Marginal Notes for "The New Emperor's New Clothes" comic: Ask: "Hey, why is there only a blank sheet of paper in this cartoon?" Answer: "Can't you see?" Ask: "Where are the new clothes?" Answer: "The emperor is already wearing it." Q: "So, where is the Emperor?" Answer: "The emperor put on new clothes and went out." Q: "Oh, that's right. I'm so stupid!" Answer: "So, I'm the best painter ever." One of the ways of being a master: You're a woman, pretty sexy XX chromosomes, young and sexy, head-turning.You saw the seal on the desk with the gender belonging to the XY chromosome, and the person sitting behind the seal, the strategist, planner, big shit ("shit" is a typo, it should be a big "teacher"), his The palm is the power of the big red.You ring the rusty doorbell and get no answer.Inside, he was deliberately busy with trivial and boring things, and there were many codes piled up in his hands. Every code signal that fell on the page was all XY chromosomes, and XX chromosomes were a kind of bacteria and a devil to him.The yearning for the XX chromosome is just a private secret.It cannot be put on paper in a fair manner. The XX chromosome makes him avoid it.You step closer to the inside, and he immediately backs up and curls up in the corner, clutching his hat tremblingly, hat hat...hat!he cried, as if your approach must take his hat off... Source of money: He has to pee constantly, going to the bathroom every minute.Non-stop back and forth between the entry and discharge of water.Each time is a solemn expectation and struggle.He couldn't urinate, so he tried his best to urinate even a drop, but the water was still in the blood without any concentration.He imagined the sperm swimming in his bladder, making noise like little fish.If you keep going to pee, there will be continuous discharge of sperm, sparkling in the toilet.Sperm is gold...so he has to keep peeing... Artificial "you and me relationship" in the human garden: "I treat you like this" is for "you treat me like this" in the future, which is not the "you and me" relationship that "I" expects.Although one person's situation is often made up of another person's situation, "I" cannot be completely autonomous. The happiness of "I" in life is often a gift from "you", and the existence of "I" comes from "you".However, I still insist that "I" and "you" are real relationships only in a relationship that excludes all purposes.The diverse world has obliterated the simple positioning of "you" and "I", and "you" and "I" have lost the direction of life.Let me tell you a secret, "I" is not me and "you" is not you, no one knows who they are. "You" is disguised. "I" is a pretended me.A Masquerade Ball is blooming in the Garden of Man...