第二章 很輕的人Chapter Two · The Weightless Ones
母親住在第九區的低層，那裡的天花板低到夷光要側著頭才走得進去。低層省電，省電的代價是空間會慢慢被城收回去，住越久，房間越小。
母親坐在唯一的那扇窗前。窗外沒有風景，只有另一棟樓的牆，但她還是看著，像牆上有什麼別人看不到的東西。
「妳來了。」母親說。她的聲音很輕，輕得不太像聲音，比較像聲音的回聲。
夷光把回收單放在桌上，沒有打開。「她們派我來。」
「我知道。」母親笑了一下。交得太多的人都會這樣笑，嘴角會抬起來，但抬得很慢，像那裡也快沒電了。「我自己排的。」
夷光花了一點時間才聽懂這句話。「妳排的？妳把自己排給我？」
「總要有人來。」母親伸出手，碰了碰女兒的手腕，那觸感輕到夷光幾乎要懷疑是不是自己想像出來的。「我寧願是妳。至少妳會記得，是妳把我送走的。別人不會記得，他們交一交就忘了，忘了就什麼都沒發生過。」
「那不是更好嗎。」夷光聽見自己的聲音在抖。「忘了就不痛了。」
母親搖頭，動作小到像沒搖。
「不痛，可是也不曾擁有過。」她說，「妳要選哪一種？」
窗外那面牆，這時也暗了下去。原來連牆都是要靠記憶才看得見的。
Her mother lived in the lower levels of District Nine, where the ceilings hung so low that Yiguang had to tilt her head to step inside. The lower levels saved power, and the price of saving power was that the city slowly took the space back: the longer you lived there, the smaller your room became.
Her mother sat before the room's only window. There was no view beyond it, only the wall of another building, yet she watched it all the same, as if there were something on that wall no one else could see.
"You've come," her mother said. Her voice was very faint—too faint to be quite a voice, more like the echo of one.
Yiguang set the reclamation slip on the table without opening it. "They sent me."
"I know." Her mother smiled a little. Everyone who had surrendered too much smiled that way: the corners of the mouth lifting, but lifting slowly, as if the power there were nearly gone too. "I scheduled it myself."
It took Yiguang a moment to understand. "You scheduled it? You scheduled yourself to me?"
"Someone has to come." Her mother reached out and touched her daughter's wrist, the touch so light that Yiguang almost wondered if she had imagined it. "I would rather it were you. At least you'll remember that it was you who sent me away. The others wouldn't remember—they take what they take and forget, and once they forget, it's as though nothing ever happened."
"Isn't that better?" Yiguang heard her own voice tremble. "If you forget, it stops hurting."
Her mother shook her head, the motion so small it was almost no motion at all.
"It doesn't hurt," she said, "but then you never had it either. Which would you choose?"
Beyond the window, the wall dimmed as well. So even the wall, it seemed, could only be seen by the grace of memory.