Chapter 28 Epilogue Three Third Person
Samantha Martinez sits at her computer watching a short video of a woman who looks like herself reading a book on the beach.She is on her honeymoon, and the photographer is her new husband, using a video camera they both received as a wedding present.The content of the video is unremarkable—the camera zooms in on the woman for a minute, she looks up and smiles, trying to ignore the camera, and then she puts down the book in her hand and looks directly at the camera.In the background is the Santa Monica Pier, or something like it, that pops up here and there in view.
"Put that stupid guy down and go swimming with me," the woman said to the man filming.
"Someone else will take the camera," came her husband's voice-over.
"Then give them the video camera," she said, "so they only have a video of me reading a book. And you have the real me."
"That makes sense," said her husband.
The lady stood up, put down her book, straightened her bathing suit, and looked back at her husband. "Are you coming?"
"Come right on," her husband said. "I'll start with a video of you running to the ocean. If someone steals the camera, I need to let them know what they missed."
"Huh." The lady sighed, walked up to her husband and gave him a kiss, the camera looked away.The image then stabilized again, recording her trotting out to sea.When she came into the water, she turned her head and made a greeting gesture.Then the camera turns off.
Samantha Martinez watched the video three more times before standing up, grabbing her car keys and walking out the front door of the house.
"Samantha," her sister Eleanor was waving to her, "you're doing it again." "Excuse me," Samantha said, "what do you mean?" "Well," said Eleanor, "you don't pay attention to what anyone says to you, but you just keep looking out of the window." "I'm not staring out the window," Samantha said. "The point isn't that you look out the window," said Eleanor, "but that you don't listen at all." The two of them were sitting in the PF Zhang restaurant in Burbank. It was just after noon, and there was no one in the restaurant, only a young couple in the distance.Eleanor and Samantha were located by a large window, facing the parking lot of a commercial building. In fact, Samantha was not looking out the window aimlessly, she was looking at the man and woman who were talking.But even from a distance, she could tell they weren't really a couple, if ever, and she could see that at least the young man wanted to be reunited.He leaned slightly towards the woman, showing that he was happy to get back together.The young woman didn't seem to notice; Samantha wondered if she'd say yes, or simply ignore his cue. "Samantha." Eleanor raised her voice. "Ah sorry," Samantha said, turning her attention back to her sister. "I'm really sorry, eh. I've been out the last few days." Eleanor followed Samantha's line of sight and saw the couple in the distance. "Your acquaintance?" she asked. "No," Samantha replied, "I just watched their body language. He loves her more than she loves him." "Ha," Eleanor said to Samantha, looking away, "maybe you should go over and tell him not to waste his time." "He's wasting no time," Samantha said. "He just hasn't let her know how much she means to him. If I'd gone by, I'd have told him that. There shouldn't be silence. Life is too short." Eleanor stared at her sister as if she were a stranger, and asked, "Are you all right, Sarah?" "I'm fine, eh," Samantha replied. "Because what you just said is like the emotion of the protagonist of a life-themed movie after finding out that he has breast cancer." Eleanor said. Samantha smiled after hearing this. "I don't have breast cancer, eh," she said, "I swear." Eleanor also smiled: "Then what happened, sister?" "It's a long story," Samantha said. "Our waiter is very unhurried anyway," said Eleanor, "don't worry about it." "Someone sent me a package," Samantha said. "It contained some pictures and video materials, and a letter from a husband to his wife. I read them all." "Is this legal?" Eleanor asked. "I don't think I need to worry about legality," Samantha said. "Then why did this person send you these?" "I think these things make sense to me." "A love letter from an unrelated person?" "They're not irrelevant people," Samantha said carefully. "There's a reason for things to be sent to me. It's still a lot of work to sort through so many things." "I have good reason to think you've overlooked a great deal of important detail," said Eleanor. "I said it, it's a long story." "So, how does it feel to read letters from other people's couples?" "It's sad," Samantha said. "They were very happy, but their happiness was fleeting." "At least they're happy to begin with, which is a good thing." "Ah, didn't you ever think that your life might be completely different?" Samantha changed the subject lightly, "You never thought that if there were some subtle changes, you might end up with something different." Would you have a different job, marry a different person, and have different children? Do you think that would make you happier or something? If you could see the trajectory of that life, how would you feel? " "You're throwing up too many serious questions at once," said Eleanor.The waiter finally showed up and brought their salads. "To be honest, I'm not curious about other possibilities in life, Sa. I like my life now. I have a good job, Brayden is a good boy, and Lou and I get along very well most of the time. I do worry about my sister from time to time, but that's about it." "You met Lou in Pomona." Samantha mentioned Eleanor's alma mater, "but I remember when you chose a school, you relied on a quarter. Up instead of tails, you should go to Wesleyan. You won't meet Lou. You won't marry him and have Braden. One coin pulls your life all the way up This one track and not the other." "Maybe," said Eleanor, forking a piece of lettuce. "Maybe you are a different way now," Samantha said. "As long as the coin lands on the other side, you will go the other way. If you were asked to see your life on the other branch, what would you do?" How do you feel?" Eleanor swallowed a mouthful of vegetables, pointed at her sister with a fork, and said, "About the coin-determining thing," she said, "I played a trick. My mother wanted me to go to Wesleyan, but I wasn't old enough." interest. She is passionate about creating a scholarly atmosphere where two generations of the family have attended that college. I’ve always wanted to go to Pomona, but my mom kept begging me to think about going to Wesleyan. Finally I told her I’d use It's a coin flip. Whichever way the coin comes up, I'm going to pick Pomona. I'm just doing it to satisfy her." "There are other things that can change your life," Samantha said, "and cause you to live a different life." "But no," said Eleanor, "and I'm not going to let it happen. I live my own life, and that's the only way I live. There's no other person in this universe who lives my parallel life, Even if I did, I wouldn't worry because I'm in the moment, I'm here. In this trajectory of my life, I have Lou, I have Braden, and I'm happy. I don't worry about things that didn't happen things. Maybe I'm unimaginative, but in another way, it saves me from worrying." Samantha laughed again: "I'm not worrying too much." "No, you have," Eleanor said, "or, to use a more acceptable term, sentimentality. Like when you were watching that couple's home video and wondering whether they were happier than you. It’s called being sentimental.” "They were unhappy," Samantha said, "and she died."
A letter from Margaret Jenkins to her husband Adam Jenkins. The more Eleanor recalled the conversation between her and her sister in PF Zhang's restaurant, the more worried she became.To reassure Eleanor, Samantha follows her sister's arrangement and goes on a series of blind dates. Things were not going well. The first date was with an investment banker who babbled to justify the behavior of investment bankers during the 2008 recession, pausing only when he needed to respond to some "urgent" emails he claimed were from him Partners in Sydney and Tokyo.Once he went to the bathroom without his phone, Samantha opened the back of his phone and removed the battery.Her date, annoyed by the phone's unprovoked strike, left, only to stop abruptly before looking for a cell phone dealership and ask Samantha if she didn't mind AA paying the bill. The second date was with a middle school English teacher in Glendale who wanted to be a TV writer.Eleanor suggested to him that Samantha had starred in "The Chronicles of the Intrepid" and might still be in touch with the crew, so he agreed to the meeting.When Samantha explained that she was just an extra, several years ago, and that she was cast because she was scouted and not personally connected, the teacher was silent for a few minutes, then begged Samantha How to read his script, give him a feedback.At dinner, Samantha went over the script silently.Out of sympathy, she had to tell a lie. The third blind date was very boring. When she got the car to go home, she couldn't clearly recall any details about him. The fourth was bisexual, and she was a colleague of Eleanor's.Eleanor referred to her by the ambiguous name of "Chris".While Samantha explained her situation, Chris was very excited, and the two of them enjoyed dinner together.After dinner, Samantha called her sister and asked her what the hell was going on. "Honey, it's been a long time since your last relationship, and I wonder if you're hiding something from me," said Eleanor. The fifth meeting was a nightmare, and Samantha left before getting to the point. The sixth blind date was named Brian, who was polite, caring, charming, and well-mannered, and Samantha was pretty sure he wasn't interested in her.He smiled when she told him the truth. "I'm sorry," he said, "I wish I hadn't been so obvious." "That's fine," Samantha said, "but why did you agree to this meeting?" "You know who your sister is," Brian said, "and after five minutes I figured it would be easier to just say yes than to find an excuse to say no. And then she said you were really, really nice. By the way , she was right." "Thank you," Samantha said, looking at him quietly for a while. "You had an ex-wife who passed away," she finally said. "Ah," Brian said, "Eleanor already told you?" He took a sip of his drink. "No," Samantha said, "I guess." "Eleanor should have told you," Brian said. "She didn't tell you that first, and I apologize." "It's not your fault," Samantha said, "she even arranged for a woman to meet me two weeks ago and she didn't tell me the truth. So it's only natural that she would ignore the fact that you are a widower. " They both laughed. "I think you should fire your sister and stop making her a matchmaker," Brian said. "How long has it been?" Samantha asked. "I mean, since your ex-wife died." Brian nodded, showing that he understood what she meant. "A year and a half," he said. "It was a stroke. She was running a half marathon, fell, died in the hospital. Doctors said her blood clot had always been a threat to her life, and at that time It just happened. She was thirty-four." "I'm sorry," Samantha said. "Me too," Brian said, taking another sip of his drink. "A year after Jen passed away, friends started asking me if I was interested in remarrying. I had no reason to say no. Then I started seeing some people, but I realized I didn't want a long-term relationship with any of them. .No offense intended,” he said quickly, “this isn’t your problem, it’s just mine.” "Never mind," Samantha said. "You must love her." "It's a funny thing to say," Brian said, suddenly excited, for the first time all night, Samantha thought, and maybe for the first time in a long time, too. "It wasn't love. At least not at first. Or, not to me. Jen always said that when she first saw me, she thought I was her destiny, but I didn't know That. I didn't even like her that much when we first met." "Why?" Samantha asked. "She's so proactive," Brian said with a smile. "She doesn't mind telling you what she really thinks, whether you ask her opinion or not. To be honest, I don't find her attractive either. She's totally Not my type at all." "But you're with her," Samantha said. "I don't know why," Brian admitted honestly. "Well, it's not like that. I know. Jane thought I was worth the long-term investment, so she invested her time. The next thing I ended up standing in a kosher wedding Under the canopy, thinking how I got here. But it’s been love since then. That’s all I can say. Like I said, I don’t know why.” "Sounds great," Samantha said. "Indeed." Brian said, draining the wine in his glass. "Do you think that can be explained?" Samantha asked. "You can only love this one person?" "I don't know," Brian said, "but is everyone in the world like that? I don't think so. People have all kinds of definitions of love. Some people can fall in love with others, I suppose, but when Loved ones die and they are able to transfer the love to the next person. A friend of mine in college, five years after his wife died, he married someone else. I was his best man. Both weddings he Crying out of joy. So, no, I don't think that's the case for everyone. But I think it can be explained that way for me." "I'm glad to hear that," Samantha said. "Me too. It doesn't matter forever, as long as you have it once." Brian said, putting away the wine glass that he had been playing with all the time. "Samantha, I'm sorry," he said. "I've always talked to them about how much I love my wife. I've had enough. I didn't mean to make that gesture at you." "It's okay," Samantha said, "I understand that."
"I can't believe you still have that video camera," Margaret says to her husband.They were making their way down the Dreadnought's walkway.They were transferred to this ship together not long ago. "It was our wedding present," said his husband, "from Uncle Will. If I throw it away he won't forgive me." "I didn't tell you to throw it away," said Margaret. "I could make an accident and make it disappear." "I know what you're up to," said her husband. Margaret stopped. "Here we are," she said. "This is our home base. We will live a happy married life together on this ship." "Don't be so eloquent next time you talk," said her husband. "Don't snore when you sleep at night." Margaret said, opened the door, stretched out her hand and said in a welcoming gesture, "You go ahead, Mr. Documentary." Her husband walked in the door and walked quickly around the room. "It's bigger than our room on the Viking," he said. "Even the utility room is bigger than the rooms on the Viking," said Margaret. "Yes, but it's about the size of two utility rooms," said her husband. Margaret closed the door, looked directly at her husband and said, "When are you reporting to the Alien Biology Lab?" "I should go at once," said her husband. "That's not what I asked." "Then what do you want to say?" "Something you can't photograph," Margaret said.
"Do you have anything to confess?" Father Neil asked. Samantha couldn't help but burst out laughing. "I can't confess to your serious face," she said. "Confessing to a priest you dated in high school is a real problem," Father Neil said. "You weren't a priest back then," Samantha said. The two of them were sitting on a pew in the back of St. Finbar's Church. "Well, if you need to confess anything, please tell me." Neil said, "I will keep it a secret for you. In fact, this is also a duty that needs to be abided by." "I understand," Samantha said. "Then why did you come to me?" Neil asked, "Of course I didn't mean I didn't want to see you." "Is it possible we have different lives?" Samantha asked. "You mean, reincarnation?" Neil asked. "Are you asking about Catholicism? Or something else?" "I don't know how to describe it," Samantha said, "but I don't think it's a kind of reincarnation." She frowned, "I don't know if I can describe it accurately without making people feel ridiculous way." "Don't forget, theologians can talk about how many angels can stand on the tip of a needle." Neil said, "I don't think your question can be more absurd than this." "Then have they come to a conclusion, how many angels can stand on the tip of a needle?" Samantha asked. "This question has never been seriously thought about," Neil said, "It's more like a myth. Even if it is true, the answer is probably the same-see how many angels God needs to stand. Yours What's the problem, Sarah?" "Imagine, there is a woman, like a fictional character, but she is real." Neil gestured to ask questions, but Samantha raised her hand to stop him, "Don't ask why this happened, I don't know either. Just know she's just like I said she was. Then assume she's based off of someone in our real world - looks the same, sounds the same, looks exactly like A person. The first woman would not have existed without this person in the real world as a model. Are they the same person? Do they have the same soul?" Neal's brows were furrowed, and Samantha couldn't help laughing, remembering what he looked like when he was sixteen.Neal said, "The first woman was based on the second woman, but wasn't it a clone? I mean, wasn't the second man created from genes taken from one?" "I don't think so," Samantha said. "But is it true that the first woman was created from the second man through some high-end unknown means?" Neil asked. "Yes." Samantha said. "I'm not going to go into the details of how things went," Neil said. "I'll take your word for it." "Thank you." "My point of view cannot represent the entire Catholic Church, but personally, the answer should be no. They are not the same person, and they have different souls." Neil said, "It is really general, but the teaching tells We, all things in the world, have our own soul as long as we have the desire to be human. Even if you clone yourself, she is not you, just like identical twins are different people. Each individual has his own thoughts and personalities Experiences, not just a string of genes. They're completely separate people with souls of their own." "Do you think it's the same for her?" Samantha asked. Neil looked at Samantha strangely, but still answered her question: "I think so. The other person has their own memories and experiences, right?" Samantha nodded.Neil continued: "If she has a life of her own, she has a soul of her own. The situation you're talking about is a bit like a child and his or her identical sibling. Another person as a mold, but only a mold. , not blindly copying." "What if they were separated in time?" Samantha asked. "Can that be called reincarnation?" "Not if you're Catholic," Neil said. "Our teaching doesn't allow that. I don't know how other faiths say it, but from what you've described, it's not very It can only be made clear by involving reincarnation and the like. This person is herself, no matter how you want to define her." "Okay, I see," Samantha said. "Don't forget, this is just my one-sided opinion." Neil said, "If you need an official statement, I have to seek the opinion of the Bishop. It will probably take some time." Samantha smiled. "Don't bother," she said. "I'm very enlightened by what you've said. Thank you, Neil." "You're welcome," Neil said, "would you mind telling me something specific?" "It's complicated," Samantha said. "Obviously," Neal said, "sounds like you're working on a science fiction novel." "That's pretty much it," Samantha said.
Samantha went to buy a printer and several hundred dollars in ink, and then printed out all the letters and photos that came in a package she had received a month earlier.The original projector had miraculously disappeared as the man had said, disintegrated into a cloud of powder, and disappeared without a trace within an hour.Until then, Samantha has photographed every document and recorded every video clip with her digital camera.Those things have a digital backup on her camera's memory card and on her computer's hard drive; so she prints them out for another use. After the printing was over, a thick stack of paper was piled up in front of her, each of which was a letter or photo of Margaret Jenkins.These do not represent her entire life, but they are the embodiment and record of her life, recording every day of her and her husband, every day of love. Samantha picked up the stack of papers, walked to the small portable shredder she had bought earlier, and put each paper in it, one by one.She picked up the pile of scraps of paper again, went to her small backyard, and put the scraps of paper in the small metal trash can she bought earlier, without falling a single bit.She pressed the papers down, but keeping them loose, she lit a kitchen match and threw it in the trash, making sure the shreds were ignited.Afterwards, Samantha puts the lid back on, staggering it a little to allow air in without letting burning embers fly around. All the paper was burned to ashes.Samantha opened the lid and poured a bucket of beach sand into the bucket, covering up any remaining sparks.Then she went back into the room, took a wooden spoon from the kitchen, and stirred the sand and ash together.After a while, Samantha carefully turned the trash can upside down, poured the sand and ash mixture into a bucket, put the lid on, put it in her car, and drove in the direction of Santa Monica .
Samantha Martinez is standing in ankle-deep water, with the Santa Monica pier not far behind her, and she is throwing the last things left by Margaret Jenkins into the sea, and here Will be the location of her own honeymoon.She was not in a hurry to complete the task, but held up each handful of sand and ashes, silently recited what Margaret said, her life, her love, and deeply engraved these marks in her mind, no matter it was the first time. Or again. Then she turned and walked towards the beach and saw a man standing there looking at her.She smiled and walked over. "You were just throwing ashes," he said, more like a statement than a question. "yes." "Whose?" "My sister's," Samantha said, "in a sense." "In a sense?" the man asked. "It's complicated to explain." "Thank you for your condolences." "Thank you," Samantha said. "She's had a great life. I'm happy to be a part of her life." "While I'm telling you this at the worst possible time," the man said, "I swear you look familiar." "You look familiar too," Samantha replied. "I swear it's not a pickup, but can you tell me if you're an actor?" "It used to be." "Have you been in The Chronicle of the Intrepid?" "once." "You may not believe it," said the man, "that I played your husband in the play." "I know." "You remember me?" "No," Samantha said, "but I know what her husband looks like." The man holds out his hand. "I'm Nick Weinstein," he said. "Hi, Nick." Samantha took his hand. "I'm Samantha." "Nice to meet you," Nick said, "I mean, again." "Me too," Samantha said, "Nick, I'm going to dinner right now, would you like to come with me?" This time it was Nick's turn to smile. "Yes, I'd love to." The two of them walked towards the shore together.After a while, Nick said: "It's like fate, we met here like this." Samantha smiled and took Nick's arm as she walked.
"Samantha," her sister Eleanor was waving to her, "you're doing it again." "Excuse me," Samantha said, "what do you mean?" "Well," said Eleanor, "you don't pay attention to what anyone says to you, but you just keep looking out of the window." "I'm not staring out the window," Samantha said. "The point isn't that you look out the window," said Eleanor, "but that you don't listen at all." The two of them were sitting in the PF Zhang restaurant in Burbank. It was just after noon, and there was no one in the restaurant, only a young couple in the distance.Eleanor and Samantha were located by a large window, facing the parking lot of a commercial building. In fact, Samantha was not looking out the window aimlessly, she was looking at the man and woman who were talking.But even from a distance, she could tell they weren't really a couple, if ever, and she could see that at least the young man wanted to be reunited.He leaned slightly towards the woman, showing that he was happy to get back together.The young woman didn't seem to notice; Samantha wondered if she'd say yes, or simply ignore his cue. "Samantha." Eleanor raised her voice. "Ah sorry," Samantha said, turning her attention back to her sister. "I'm really sorry, eh. I've been out the last few days." Eleanor followed Samantha's line of sight and saw the couple in the distance. "Your acquaintance?" she asked. "No," Samantha replied, "I just watched their body language. He loves her more than she loves him." "Ha," Eleanor said to Samantha, looking away, "maybe you should go over and tell him not to waste his time." "He's wasting no time," Samantha said. "He just hasn't let her know how much she means to him. If I'd gone by, I'd have told him that. There shouldn't be silence. Life is too short." Eleanor stared at her sister as if she were a stranger, and asked, "Are you all right, Sarah?" "I'm fine, eh," Samantha replied. "Because what you just said is like the emotion of the protagonist of a life-themed movie after finding out that he has breast cancer." Eleanor said. Samantha smiled after hearing this. "I don't have breast cancer, eh," she said, "I swear." Eleanor also smiled: "Then what happened, sister?" "It's a long story," Samantha said. "Our waiter is very unhurried anyway," said Eleanor, "don't worry about it." "Someone sent me a package," Samantha said. "It contained some pictures and video materials, and a letter from a husband to his wife. I read them all." "Is this legal?" Eleanor asked. "I don't think I need to worry about legality," Samantha said. "Then why did this person send you these?" "I think these things make sense to me." "A love letter from an unrelated person?" "They're not irrelevant people," Samantha said carefully. "There's a reason for things to be sent to me. It's still a lot of work to sort through so many things." "I have good reason to think you've overlooked a great deal of important detail," said Eleanor. "I said it, it's a long story." "So, how does it feel to read letters from other people's couples?" "It's sad," Samantha said. "They were very happy, but their happiness was fleeting." "At least they're happy to begin with, which is a good thing." "Ah, didn't you ever think that your life might be completely different?" Samantha changed the subject lightly, "You never thought that if there were some subtle changes, you might end up with something different." Would you have a different job, marry a different person, and have different children? Do you think that would make you happier or something? If you could see the trajectory of that life, how would you feel? " "You're throwing up too many serious questions at once," said Eleanor.The waiter finally showed up and brought their salads. "To be honest, I'm not curious about other possibilities in life, Sa. I like my life now. I have a good job, Brayden is a good boy, and Lou and I get along very well most of the time. I do worry about my sister from time to time, but that's about it." "You met Lou in Pomona." Samantha mentioned Eleanor's alma mater, "but I remember when you chose a school, you relied on a quarter. Up instead of tails, you should go to Wesleyan. You won't meet Lou. You won't marry him and have Braden. One coin pulls your life all the way up This one track and not the other." "Maybe," said Eleanor, forking a piece of lettuce. "Maybe you are a different way now," Samantha said. "As long as the coin lands on the other side, you will go the other way. If you were asked to see your life on the other branch, what would you do?" How do you feel?" Eleanor swallowed a mouthful of vegetables, pointed at her sister with a fork, and said, "About the coin-determining thing," she said, "I played a trick. My mother wanted me to go to Wesleyan, but I wasn't old enough." interest. She is passionate about creating a scholarly atmosphere where two generations of the family have attended that college. I’ve always wanted to go to Pomona, but my mom kept begging me to think about going to Wesleyan. Finally I told her I’d use It's a coin flip. Whichever way the coin comes up, I'm going to pick Pomona. I'm just doing it to satisfy her." "There are other things that can change your life," Samantha said, "and cause you to live a different life." "But no," said Eleanor, "and I'm not going to let it happen. I live my own life, and that's the only way I live. There's no other person in this universe who lives my parallel life, Even if I did, I wouldn't worry because I'm in the moment, I'm here. In this trajectory of my life, I have Lou, I have Braden, and I'm happy. I don't worry about things that didn't happen things. Maybe I'm unimaginative, but in another way, it saves me from worrying." Samantha laughed again: "I'm not worrying too much." "No, you have," Eleanor said, "or, to use a more acceptable term, sentimentality. Like when you were watching that couple's home video and wondering whether they were happier than you. It’s called being sentimental.” "They were unhappy," Samantha said, "and she died."
A letter from Margaret Jenkins to her husband Adam Jenkins. The more Eleanor recalled the conversation between her and her sister in PF Zhang's restaurant, the more worried she became.To reassure Eleanor, Samantha follows her sister's arrangement and goes on a series of blind dates. Things were not going well. The first date was with an investment banker who babbled to justify the behavior of investment bankers during the 2008 recession, pausing only when he needed to respond to some "urgent" emails he claimed were from him Partners in Sydney and Tokyo.Once he went to the bathroom without his phone, Samantha opened the back of his phone and removed the battery.Her date, annoyed by the phone's unprovoked strike, left, only to stop abruptly before looking for a cell phone dealership and ask Samantha if she didn't mind AA paying the bill. The second date was with a middle school English teacher in Glendale who wanted to be a TV writer.Eleanor suggested to him that Samantha had starred in "The Chronicles of the Intrepid" and might still be in touch with the crew, so he agreed to the meeting.When Samantha explained that she was just an extra, several years ago, and that she was cast because she was scouted and not personally connected, the teacher was silent for a few minutes, then begged Samantha How to read his script, give him a feedback.At dinner, Samantha went over the script silently.Out of sympathy, she had to tell a lie. The third blind date was very boring. When she got the car to go home, she couldn't clearly recall any details about him. The fourth was bisexual, and she was a colleague of Eleanor's.Eleanor referred to her by the ambiguous name of "Chris".While Samantha explained her situation, Chris was very excited, and the two of them enjoyed dinner together.After dinner, Samantha called her sister and asked her what the hell was going on. "Honey, it's been a long time since your last relationship, and I wonder if you're hiding something from me," said Eleanor. The fifth meeting was a nightmare, and Samantha left before getting to the point. The sixth blind date was named Brian, who was polite, caring, charming, and well-mannered, and Samantha was pretty sure he wasn't interested in her.He smiled when she told him the truth. "I'm sorry," he said, "I wish I hadn't been so obvious." "That's fine," Samantha said, "but why did you agree to this meeting?" "You know who your sister is," Brian said, "and after five minutes I figured it would be easier to just say yes than to find an excuse to say no. And then she said you were really, really nice. By the way , she was right." "Thank you," Samantha said, looking at him quietly for a while. "You had an ex-wife who passed away," she finally said. "Ah," Brian said, "Eleanor already told you?" He took a sip of his drink. "No," Samantha said, "I guess." "Eleanor should have told you," Brian said. "She didn't tell you that first, and I apologize." "It's not your fault," Samantha said, "she even arranged for a woman to meet me two weeks ago and she didn't tell me the truth. So it's only natural that she would ignore the fact that you are a widower. " They both laughed. "I think you should fire your sister and stop making her a matchmaker," Brian said. "How long has it been?" Samantha asked. "I mean, since your ex-wife died." Brian nodded, showing that he understood what she meant. "A year and a half," he said. "It was a stroke. She was running a half marathon, fell, died in the hospital. Doctors said her blood clot had always been a threat to her life, and at that time It just happened. She was thirty-four." "I'm sorry," Samantha said. "Me too," Brian said, taking another sip of his drink. "A year after Jen passed away, friends started asking me if I was interested in remarrying. I had no reason to say no. Then I started seeing some people, but I realized I didn't want a long-term relationship with any of them. .No offense intended,” he said quickly, “this isn’t your problem, it’s just mine.” "Never mind," Samantha said. "You must love her." "It's a funny thing to say," Brian said, suddenly excited, for the first time all night, Samantha thought, and maybe for the first time in a long time, too. "It wasn't love. At least not at first. Or, not to me. Jen always said that when she first saw me, she thought I was her destiny, but I didn't know That. I didn't even like her that much when we first met." "Why?" Samantha asked. "She's so proactive," Brian said with a smile. "She doesn't mind telling you what she really thinks, whether you ask her opinion or not. To be honest, I don't find her attractive either. She's totally Not my type at all." "But you're with her," Samantha said. "I don't know why," Brian admitted honestly. "Well, it's not like that. I know. Jane thought I was worth the long-term investment, so she invested her time. The next thing I ended up standing in a kosher wedding Under the canopy, thinking how I got here. But it’s been love since then. That’s all I can say. Like I said, I don’t know why.” "Sounds great," Samantha said. "Indeed." Brian said, draining the wine in his glass. "Do you think that can be explained?" Samantha asked. "You can only love this one person?" "I don't know," Brian said, "but is everyone in the world like that? I don't think so. People have all kinds of definitions of love. Some people can fall in love with others, I suppose, but when Loved ones die and they are able to transfer the love to the next person. A friend of mine in college, five years after his wife died, he married someone else. I was his best man. Both weddings he Crying out of joy. So, no, I don't think that's the case for everyone. But I think it can be explained that way for me." "I'm glad to hear that," Samantha said. "Me too. It doesn't matter forever, as long as you have it once." Brian said, putting away the wine glass that he had been playing with all the time. "Samantha, I'm sorry," he said. "I've always talked to them about how much I love my wife. I've had enough. I didn't mean to make that gesture at you." "It's okay," Samantha said, "I understand that."
"I can't believe you still have that video camera," Margaret says to her husband.They were making their way down the Dreadnought's walkway.They were transferred to this ship together not long ago. "It was our wedding present," said his husband, "from Uncle Will. If I throw it away he won't forgive me." "I didn't tell you to throw it away," said Margaret. "I could make an accident and make it disappear." "I know what you're up to," said her husband. Margaret stopped. "Here we are," she said. "This is our home base. We will live a happy married life together on this ship." "Don't be so eloquent next time you talk," said her husband. "Don't snore when you sleep at night." Margaret said, opened the door, stretched out her hand and said in a welcoming gesture, "You go ahead, Mr. Documentary." Her husband walked in the door and walked quickly around the room. "It's bigger than our room on the Viking," he said. "Even the utility room is bigger than the rooms on the Viking," said Margaret. "Yes, but it's about the size of two utility rooms," said her husband. Margaret closed the door, looked directly at her husband and said, "When are you reporting to the Alien Biology Lab?" "I should go at once," said her husband. "That's not what I asked." "Then what do you want to say?" "Something you can't photograph," Margaret said.
"Do you have anything to confess?" Father Neil asked. Samantha couldn't help but burst out laughing. "I can't confess to your serious face," she said. "Confessing to a priest you dated in high school is a real problem," Father Neil said. "You weren't a priest back then," Samantha said. The two of them were sitting on a pew in the back of St. Finbar's Church. "Well, if you need to confess anything, please tell me." Neil said, "I will keep it a secret for you. In fact, this is also a duty that needs to be abided by." "I understand," Samantha said. "Then why did you come to me?" Neil asked, "Of course I didn't mean I didn't want to see you." "Is it possible we have different lives?" Samantha asked. "You mean, reincarnation?" Neil asked. "Are you asking about Catholicism? Or something else?" "I don't know how to describe it," Samantha said, "but I don't think it's a kind of reincarnation." She frowned, "I don't know if I can describe it accurately without making people feel ridiculous way." "Don't forget, theologians can talk about how many angels can stand on the tip of a needle." Neil said, "I don't think your question can be more absurd than this." "Then have they come to a conclusion, how many angels can stand on the tip of a needle?" Samantha asked. "This question has never been seriously thought about," Neil said, "It's more like a myth. Even if it is true, the answer is probably the same-see how many angels God needs to stand. Yours What's the problem, Sarah?" "Imagine, there is a woman, like a fictional character, but she is real." Neil gestured to ask questions, but Samantha raised her hand to stop him, "Don't ask why this happened, I don't know either. Just know she's just like I said she was. Then assume she's based off of someone in our real world - looks the same, sounds the same, looks exactly like A person. The first woman would not have existed without this person in the real world as a model. Are they the same person? Do they have the same soul?" Neal's brows were furrowed, and Samantha couldn't help laughing, remembering what he looked like when he was sixteen.Neal said, "The first woman was based on the second woman, but wasn't it a clone? I mean, wasn't the second man created from genes taken from one?" "I don't think so," Samantha said. "But is it true that the first woman was created from the second man through some high-end unknown means?" Neil asked. "Yes." Samantha said. "I'm not going to go into the details of how things went," Neil said. "I'll take your word for it." "Thank you." "My point of view cannot represent the entire Catholic Church, but personally, the answer should be no. They are not the same person, and they have different souls." Neil said, "It is really general, but the teaching tells We, all things in the world, have our own soul as long as we have the desire to be human. Even if you clone yourself, she is not you, just like identical twins are different people. Each individual has his own thoughts and personalities Experiences, not just a string of genes. They're completely separate people with souls of their own." "Do you think it's the same for her?" Samantha asked. Neil looked at Samantha strangely, but still answered her question: "I think so. The other person has their own memories and experiences, right?" Samantha nodded.Neil continued: "If she has a life of her own, she has a soul of her own. The situation you're talking about is a bit like a child and his or her identical sibling. Another person as a mold, but only a mold. , not blindly copying." "What if they were separated in time?" Samantha asked. "Can that be called reincarnation?" "Not if you're Catholic," Neil said. "Our teaching doesn't allow that. I don't know how other faiths say it, but from what you've described, it's not very It can only be made clear by involving reincarnation and the like. This person is herself, no matter how you want to define her." "Okay, I see," Samantha said. "Don't forget, this is just my one-sided opinion." Neil said, "If you need an official statement, I have to seek the opinion of the Bishop. It will probably take some time." Samantha smiled. "Don't bother," she said. "I'm very enlightened by what you've said. Thank you, Neil." "You're welcome," Neil said, "would you mind telling me something specific?" "It's complicated," Samantha said. "Obviously," Neal said, "sounds like you're working on a science fiction novel." "That's pretty much it," Samantha said.
Samantha went to buy a printer and several hundred dollars in ink, and then printed out all the letters and photos that came in a package she had received a month earlier.The original projector had miraculously disappeared as the man had said, disintegrated into a cloud of powder, and disappeared without a trace within an hour.Until then, Samantha has photographed every document and recorded every video clip with her digital camera.Those things have a digital backup on her camera's memory card and on her computer's hard drive; so she prints them out for another use. After the printing was over, a thick stack of paper was piled up in front of her, each of which was a letter or photo of Margaret Jenkins.These do not represent her entire life, but they are the embodiment and record of her life, recording every day of her and her husband, every day of love. Samantha picked up the stack of papers, walked to the small portable shredder she had bought earlier, and put each paper in it, one by one.She picked up the pile of scraps of paper again, went to her small backyard, and put the scraps of paper in the small metal trash can she bought earlier, without falling a single bit.She pressed the papers down, but keeping them loose, she lit a kitchen match and threw it in the trash, making sure the shreds were ignited.Afterwards, Samantha puts the lid back on, staggering it a little to allow air in without letting burning embers fly around. All the paper was burned to ashes.Samantha opened the lid and poured a bucket of beach sand into the bucket, covering up any remaining sparks.Then she went back into the room, took a wooden spoon from the kitchen, and stirred the sand and ash together.After a while, Samantha carefully turned the trash can upside down, poured the sand and ash mixture into a bucket, put the lid on, put it in her car, and drove in the direction of Santa Monica .
Samantha Martinez is standing in ankle-deep water, with the Santa Monica pier not far behind her, and she is throwing the last things left by Margaret Jenkins into the sea, and here Will be the location of her own honeymoon.She was not in a hurry to complete the task, but held up each handful of sand and ashes, silently recited what Margaret said, her life, her love, and deeply engraved these marks in her mind, no matter it was the first time. Or again. Then she turned and walked towards the beach and saw a man standing there looking at her.She smiled and walked over. "You were just throwing ashes," he said, more like a statement than a question. "yes." "Whose?" "My sister's," Samantha said, "in a sense." "In a sense?" the man asked. "It's complicated to explain." "Thank you for your condolences." "Thank you," Samantha said. "She's had a great life. I'm happy to be a part of her life." "While I'm telling you this at the worst possible time," the man said, "I swear you look familiar." "You look familiar too," Samantha replied. "I swear it's not a pickup, but can you tell me if you're an actor?" "It used to be." "Have you been in The Chronicle of the Intrepid?" "once." "You may not believe it," said the man, "that I played your husband in the play." "I know." "You remember me?" "No," Samantha said, "but I know what her husband looks like." The man holds out his hand. "I'm Nick Weinstein," he said. "Hi, Nick." Samantha took his hand. "I'm Samantha." "Nice to meet you," Nick said, "I mean, again." "Me too," Samantha said, "Nick, I'm going to dinner right now, would you like to come with me?" This time it was Nick's turn to smile. "Yes, I'd love to." The two of them walked towards the shore together.After a while, Nick said: "It's like fate, we met here like this." Samantha smiled and took Nick's arm as she walked.