第一章 熄燈的城Chapter One · The City That Goes Dark
城市又暗了一格。
夷光站在回收塔的第十一層，看著遠處第七區的燈，像被誰用拇指按熄的菸頭，先是抖了兩下，然後就只剩一點紅，最後連那點紅都沒了。
她沒有特別的感覺。第七區暗掉，代表那裡的人這個月又交得不夠多。記憶不夠，城就不亮，這是從她出生以前就寫好的規矩，像呼吸一樣不必去想。
「夷光，妳的單子。」
調度員把一張薄薄的回收單推過檯面。紙是城裡少數還在用的東西，因為紙不耗電。她低頭看，先看到編號，再看到區域，最後才看到名字。
看到名字的時候，她的手指停在紙的邊緣，沒有再往下。
那一欄寫著她母親的名字。
調度員沒有抬頭，他從來不抬頭，抬頭要耗一點點神，神也是會被計算的。「有問題嗎？」他問，語氣裡沒有問題這個詞該有的弧度。
「沒有。」夷光把單子折起來，折成很小的一塊，小到可以握在掌心裡不被看見。「沒有問題。」
走出回收塔的時候，城市又暗了一格。這一次是離她很近的地方，近到她聽見燈滅時那聲極輕的、像有人終於把話說完的「嗯」。
她沒有回頭。回收員不回頭，這也是規矩。
但她開始走得很快。
The city dimmed by another notch.
Yiguang stood on the eleventh floor of the Reclamation Tower, watching the lights of District Seven in the distance — like a cigarette stubbed out under someone's thumb, trembling twice before fading to a single point of red, until even that red was gone.
She felt nothing in particular. District Seven going dark meant the people there had once again surrendered too little this month. Not enough memory, and the city would not shine — a rule written down long before she was born, as effortless to obey as breathing.
"Yiguang. Your slip."
The dispatcher slid a thin reclamation slip across the counter. Paper was one of the few things the city still used, because paper consumed no power. She lowered her eyes — first the serial number, then the district, and only last the name.
When she reached the name, her fingertip stopped at the edge of the paper and went no further.
That line bore her mother's name.
The dispatcher did not look up. He never looked up; looking up cost a sliver of spirit, and spirit, too, was something the city counted. "Is there a problem?" he asked, his tone lacking the curve that word ought to carry.
"No." Yiguang folded the slip, folded it into something very small, small enough to hide in the hollow of her palm. "No problem."
As she walked out of the Reclamation Tower, the city dimmed by another notch. This time it was somewhere close to her — close enough that she heard the light go out with a faint sound, like someone who had finally finished saying what they meant: a soft mm.
She did not look back. A reclaimer does not look back; that, too, was a rule.
But she began to walk very fast.