佩洛瑪舞台小知識、佩洛瑪舞台百科

以下的事件是通過敏智的角度，採用第一人稱敘述的，先此說明一下，以免和我的主體敘事混淆。

人類文學作品中的敘事角度和人稱，表面看好像是自然而然、不辯自明的事物，但其實沒有任何實際根據，完全是一種虛構的裝置。所謂全知觀點並不存在於物理世界，上帝視覺也只是比喻說法。第三人稱敘事的成立，建基於讀者暫時放棄自己的理性，聽任敘述者的擺佈，對任意轉移的角度照單全收——除了人物視點的切換，還有時間上的先後，空間上的遠近，或者外部現實與內部心理的移動。那是一種不存在的感知經驗。

相對地受到限制的第一人稱，在邏輯上卻更為完整和合理——固定而單一的敘述者，只能陳述她所經歷或知道的事情，除此之外一律排除在外。不過，第一人稱敘述有一個致命傷——敘述者究竟在何時、何地、何種情況底下講述故事？這個敘事原點通常都會被蒙混過去，不作交代。讀者就只是看到文字（也假想聽到聲音），但卻不知道文字（或聲音）發自何處。這個原點並不是指現實中的作者，而是指作品的敘事者（無論作為其中一個角色與否），因何和如何敘事。

讀者可能會覺得我在吹毛求疵，質疑近代以來行之有效的敘事模式。也許因為我是非人，所以對這些事情特別敏感吧！身為一台寫作機器，我絕對可以忽略近代敘事類型中的種種內部矛盾和漏洞，單純用模仿的方法，產出令人滿意的文字。而身為大精靈，也經常被人誤會我無所不知，接近所謂的上帝視覺。在人世間生活了四十年，我也不是不能接受含糊、曖昧、差參的現象。但是，正正因為我是讀心者，是 Ghost Writer，我更加不能對自己的角色掉以輕心。我知道甚麼，不知道甚麼，能寫甚麼，不能寫甚麼，我都希望交代得清清楚楚。

成員們到碩美家留宿的事，我並不在場，沒有第一身經驗，也沒有即時通過感官分享監察事情的經過。所有內容全部建基於敏智事後向我做的口頭報告，以及通過守護靈蘇菲亞跟我分享的記憶資訊。雖然不能算是敏智的親筆撰述，但我有信心非常接近她的原初經驗。因此，採用第一人稱也變得順理成章，在「因何」和「如何」兩個問題上也毫無疑問了。以後遇到類似情況，我也會採用相同的處理方法，無需每次也重複解釋。如果三先生知道了我的顧慮，一定又會取笑我太迂腐，不懂順勢而行、靈活變通的道理了。

讀心報告：桑敏智 / 蘇菲亞

我們下星期便要出發到袋島的下北市參加第一場比賽了，這時候碩美提出請成員們到她的老家小住一晚。自從碩美入團之後，已經很少回家，似乎是想淡忘那段不愉快的記憶。但是到了佩洛瑪舞台終於開賽，她卻又想起家來，好像有甚麼未曾了結的心事。這也是人之常情吧！其實我們幾個都失去了雙親的人，誰不想家呢？碩美父親的死依然是個未曾解開的謎團，母親留下來的時裝品牌的繼承權，又未曾完全確認，仍然存在變數。也許，她想在這時候回家一趟，就算找不到任何答案，也至少希望和自己的根源重新連結吧。但她不想獨自回去，於是便請了我們一起去住一晚，感覺就像是度假一樣。我們當然都非常樂意。

在我們六個之中，碩美的家境最好。她的爸爸雲斯頓是大美科技的老闆，專門生產用於心智戰的生化人裝備。聽真幾說，維城保安局的生化人部隊，特別是所謂的三大神器的實體和軟體，都是由大美科技提供的。她的媽媽本來是家族生意「天使之翼」的掌舵人，死後由妹妹（即碩美小姨）美蓮達暫時託管，遺囑中寫明碩美滿十八歲後才能正式繼承。這樣的家庭可以說是富甲一方，連像我家這樣的高中產階級也給比下去了。

可是富裕的成長環境對碩美來說卻好像是個污點似的，一直不願在人前多說。雖然難脫小姐脾氣，經常不自覺流露出嬌生慣養的習性，但老實說碩美已經盡量避免在成員們面前炫耀自己的家勢。不過妹妹們卻對碩美成長的大宅很感興趣，常常嚷著要去參觀。所以這次碩美也不避忌，大方地請大家去玩。真知子覺得有真幾同去可以放心，便不干預我們的私人活動了。

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A senior classmate of mine worked at a café and said it was a good spot — quiet, good for reading and writing. I had nothing to do during the day, so I tried it. The café also had lots of jigsaw puzzles to pass the time. I’ve had a fear of jigsaw puzzles since childhood — the sight of those jagged cut lines makes me uncomfortable. But they were the café’s thing, and refusing outright would be unsociable.

I started doing one just to seem polite, intending to put together a few pieces and leave it at that — but I kept going without realising. The image was a Disney animated film I’d seen as a child, the lead character a beautiful ice princess. For some reason, looking at that half-assembled face on the verge of fragmenting set off a panic attack.

After that, I started seeing jigsaw cut lines overlaid on everything in front of me — that irregular interlocking texture. At first it came and went in a flash, and I assumed it was my eyes. Later it happened whenever my gaze settled or I stared into space, disappearing again as soon as I moved. These irregular grids were frustrating, like something blocking my vision that I couldn’t brush away. True to my habit of avoiding things, I tried to pretend it wasn’t happening.

When I woke up one morning to find the bathroom mirror covered in jigsaw lines, I wasn’t that shocked. Maybe because I wasn’t fully awake yet, I unconsciously reached out and tried to lift off one of the puzzle pieces in the reflection. I pulled away the piece containing my right eye — and was startled to see an irregular gap where it had been. I let go; the piece with the eye on it fell into the sink. Frightened but unbearably curious, I kept going, until the entire face had crumbled away in pieces and the sink was full of fragments. I stared at the hollow face-shaped void in the mirror, then finally turned and ran.

Like someone who can’t stop picking at a scab, I found myself increasingly unable to resist pulling away the puzzle pieces that floated up before me. On the MTR I’d unconsciously dismantle the crowded carriage; at a restaurant I’d remove a noisy table of neighbours; I’d tear ugly community posters out of my field of vision. I found that removing certain things made the world more bearable, even if it left behind gaps with jagged, uneven edges. One advantage of a jigsaw world.

You have to be subtle about it, though — do it too obviously and people give you suspicious looks. Once, a senior classmate who’d been pestering me about a favour dragged me out for a meal I didn’t want to attend. He held court the whole time while I drifted off, and without noticing, I started lifting away piece after piece from the scene in front of me until the man looked as if he’d been cut out of the picture — a slightly sunken void. What is a void? I couldn’t say. Not exactly a cardboard backing; not any describable colour. Just a kind of non-existence. Looking at it, I felt almost peaceful, as if even his voice had been erased. Then I suddenly lost my balance and lurched sideways, nearly falling off my chair. His image snapped back; he grabbed both my hands in alarm. I had an urge to shake him off and shatter his face into pieces, but I didn’t have the energy.

At first I thought randomly dismantling puzzle pieces was harmless. It had no real effect on the world — no actual damage done — and nothing bad happened to me either, except looking strange in public. So I did it more and more, sometimes out of boredom, sometimes out of bad moods, losing control of it entirely. The empty holes grew bigger and more numerous, and eventually they reached a point where the consequences were irreversible.

One time I was crossing the elevated walkway near my home when the visual scene stretching away in perspective suddenly made me feel ill. I froze, and the jigsaw lines immediately appeared. I flailed my arms forward like I was chasing something, and shattered the walkway, the motorway below it, the buildings and hills on either side — all of it into fragments. The pieces fell like rain. But the ground is part of the image too, so where did they land? I genuinely don’t know. Physically, they just fell.

In the end, I found myself in an endless void — no outside, no inside. I’d smashed the phenomenal world, and found there was nothing behind it, and I was trapped inside with no way out. In that moment I panicked more than I ever had; and then, in the very next moment, I felt a calm I’d never felt before. I said to myself: so this is what’s behind the puzzle. That must mean this is the truth. But I couldn’t do nothing — I had to clean up the mess I’d made. I crouched down (with no actual floor beneath me) and began picking up the tiny fragments one by one. I don’t know how long I spent putting the phenomenal world back together. I only know that by the time I was done, the sky was fully dark, and the lit-up walkway stretched out before me. I finally stepped out of the void and dragged my exhausted body home.

Since then I’ve treated the puzzle pieces with more care. The occasional ones I remove, I make sure to put back. I still go often to the café where my senior works, and I can now do the puzzles there easily. She and the owner think I’ve conquered my fear and become a puzzle enthusiast. The truth is: I can’t stand an incomplete image or stray fragments. I have to put everything back where it belongs. Even if those cut lines can never be erased — always announcing the possibility of breaking apart.

The puzzle tells me I have to face my incomplete, constantly fracturing self. I work up the nerve to go into the bathroom, stand at the mirror, and look at the human-shaped void. Roughly counting the mirror’s area, there must be four or five thousand pieces at least. The missing face and upper body — maybe fewer than a thousand. That’s not too impossible a task. I pick up the flesh-coloured fragments from the sink — little oddly-shaped pieces of eyes, ears, mouth, nose, forehead, cheeks, chin, neck, shoulders, hair... I assumed I knew my own face better than anything, that putting it back together would be effortless. But piece by piece, what I finally assembled was a jigsaw I didn’t recognise at all.

SF’s Strange Ordinary was originally published in Chinese in ebook format in 2025. Following it’s serialization in English translation, an English ebook version will be published. If you want to buy the Chinese version (USD 7.99), please click the link below:

Buy SF's Strange Ordinary (Chinese)

Translated from the Chinese original with Claude

Picture generated with Midjourney

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說來慚愧，我的名字裡雖然有個「秋」字，但對季節從來也不特別敏感。除了是格外酷熱或者嚴寒的日子，令人忍不住抱怨幾句，其他時候季節彷彿也是透明的，猶如空氣般的存在。

我那一代用季節做名字的人已經較少，到今天可以說是幾乎沒有了吧。對新一代來說，春、夏、秋、冬只是古典詩詞中才會出現的字眼，連流行曲也很少用上，跟現實的關係已經非常薄弱，更不要說有甚麼感覺了。

也不能怪香港的氣候不夠四季分明，或者空調下的生活把溫度的變化拉平。我像大部分城市人一樣，走在路上只顧低頭盯著手機，煩惱著工作或家庭的問題，完全不會留意樹上的葉子掉了沒有，甚麼時候開花和結果。與季節的更替相比，我們有更重要的事情要操心。

曾幾何時，對季節最有感的地方是時裝潮流。對女生來說，每季推出的新裝，比花草樹木更具標誌性，提醒我們又是「換季」的時候了。「換季」完全是一件穿戴的事情，不多也不少。但那是人工化的季節，而且往往比真正的季節提早來臨——冬末買夏裝，夏末買冬裝，沒有春裝和秋裝的位置，兩個季節亦隨之而消失了。

變成沒有季節感的人，似乎是大勢所趨，也沒有甚麼值得遺憾的。偶然出現生物性的殘留反應，或者文化上對異國情調的渴慕，可以用旅遊來補足——飛一趟日本觀賞櫻花或者紅葉，去極地高山滑雪或者熱帶沙灘曝曬。季節成為了可以用錢買回來的消閒或點心。

不過，人類畢竟是大自然孕育出來的，季節早已內置於我們的身體裡，只是我們的器官被現代生活所鈍化，而失去了感應而已。

五十歲之後，我開始領略到這件事——已經進入人生的秋季了。

身體逐漸出現各種毛病，就算未至於對生命有重大威脅，也釋出了很清晰的訊號——你已經開始變老。

青春期顧名思義，就是生命力不斷滋長，變化快到連自己也來不及抓住的春季。成年後思想趨於成熟，能力也獲得最大的發揮，是維持在頂峰狀態的夏季。到了老年，要面對的卻是機能的流失，行動力的消減，是收束和終結的冬季。在這之前的秋季，既是人生成果的收穫期，但也要為步入衰落做好心理準備。

也要到了秋季，才能靜下心來，看清楚人生階段的更替。

雖然我從出生之初，便被命名為「秋」，但我一直到了今天，才終於知道「秋」的滋味。雖然不算遲，但也多少有帶點諷刺。一直以為自己很清爽豁達，其實不過是粗心大意。

在我的家族承傳裡，季節本來就是主調。我媽叫何忍冬，是當中醫師的阿公幫她改的名字。我出世時，當上中文老師的媽，把我叫做葉秋庭，滿文藝腔的名字。到我結婚，家庭和事業也進入軌道，很自然地把女兒叫做杜初夏。怎料初夏的成長卻艱難如寒冬，連我的婚姻也經不起考驗。一年多前，女兒一個人從英國回來，還大著肚子，卻執意要把孩子生下來。雖然是十月生的，但卻叫做杜春雷。迅雷不及掩耳之下，我便當了婆婆。

以前說四代同堂，都是以父系家庭為準的。我們四代同堂，春夏秋冬，都是女的，一個男的都沒有。

我和丈夫離婚已經十年。我爸五年前過身，媽出現腦退化症狀，我便接她來跟我同住。初夏從英國回來後，跟以前的密友小綠確認了戀人關係，索性叫她搬了進來。接著又生了春雷。加上照顧我媽的印傭阿玉，現在一屋共六個女人，看上去簡直是個母系社會。

熱鬧是熱鬧，但從秋天的角度，看到的卻是生命的此消彼長——一邊如飢似渴地吮飲奶水，身體像《竹取物語》的輝耀姬一樣、每分每秒在不停生長；另一邊慢慢地失去能力，今天是走路，明天是說話、飲食，或者大小二便。

這就是四季無可抗拒的運行。

教我看懂這一切的，是初夏。

初夏這個女兒，曾經教我擔心得無法安眠，但她自從生了小孩之後，卻好像突然長大了似的。那次和她一起帶嬰兒去公園散步，初夏突然向懷裡甚麼都不懂的女兒說：這是大葉榕，是春天才落葉的，落了葉之後，很快就會長出許多青綠色的新葉，看上去好像無數小花蕾似的，但打開來其實是葉子。所以看到大葉榕落葉，便知道春天已經來了！

她又說到朴樹、山指甲、宮粉羊蹄甲、木棉、鳳凰木，都是我從來也沒有留意過的，卻原來是一直在周圍的常見植物。我問她為甚麼知道這麼多植物知識，她有點奇怪地說：我從小就看著這些樹長大，花開花落很多年了！

對啊！自從初夏在本區出世，已經二十七年了！為甚麼我這二十七年來，甚麼也沒有看見呢？當上媽媽的初夏，卻在女兒還未懂得之前，已經開始教她觀察花草樹木，感受季節變化。我這個新手婆婆，也要急起直追了。

生命之輪一直在運轉，只是我從前沒有發現。自從媽媽患上腦退化，初夏又生了女兒，輪子卻好像加速了。不，它沒有更快，或更慢，它只是按著預定的規律轉動。加速只是我的主觀感受。我彷彿覺得有甚麼迫切的事情在發生，但我不知道是甚麼。

有一次我和初夏說了我模糊的感受，她說：媽媽你可以試試寫下來啊！

寫下來？我有點驚訝地說。

初夏從小的志願就是當作家。寫東西是她療癒自己的方法。除了寫日記和生活感想，也會寫一些奇奇怪怪的故事。長年以來，我是她唯一的讀者。就算沒有人看她也一直寫，好像那是她的呼吸一樣。直至最近，她和幾個情同姐妹的好朋友一起搞了一份電子報。雖然沒有多少訂戶，但大家卻興致勃勃地在互相分享。

想不到的是，今天竟然是女兒鼓勵媽媽寫作。

都五十幾歲人了，好意思嗎？

寫東西沒有年齡限制啊！而且媽媽你以前是念文學出身的，根基很好呀！

沒錯，我大學是念英國和比較文學的，但卻從來未曾拿起筆來創作。畢業之後投身行政工作，看書的時間也越來越少了。後來辭掉工作照顧女兒，成為全職家庭主婦，全副精神都花在生活的柴米油鹽上。文學甚麼的，已經忘得七七八八了。

除了文學，差不多忘掉的還有音樂。

中學時期，我和三個同學組了一個弦樂四重奏樂團，我負責拉中提琴。當時的音樂老師 Mr. Kwok 把 Vivaldi 的小提琴協奏曲 The Four Seasons 改編成弦樂四重奏，讓我們用來參加聯校音樂節。那時候我還幻想自己將來可以當演奏家，加入世界頂尖的管弦樂團。像很多兒時夢想一樣，當然只是一場空想。

我想起韋瓦第的《四季》，想起自己的少女時代，也想起我們四個曾經發誓永不分離的閨蜜——Angel、Winne、Audrey（我）和 Kathreen，另一個春、夏、秋、冬的組合。原來這個主題早已出現，為甚麼我一直沒想起來？一眨眼已經是三十多年前的事情了，還能不認老嗎？

叫做《四季曲》好嗎？我是說，我想試寫的東西。我靈機一觸地說。

女兒側著臉想了想，說：聽來有點土呢！

我人生的第一份創作的題目，就是這樣給否決了。

看見我一下子洩了氣的樣子，初夏像給我補償似的說：

不如叫做《四季行》吧！

四季行？

四季不是不斷運行不息的嗎？而人在生命的四季中，也是行行重行行地前進著呢！

對於女兒的文學水準比媽媽高很多，除了感到羞愧，也應該感到高興吧。

好的，我們就一起同行吧！

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來 update 一下我們的新動向吧！🛵

我們的重頭戲《誠與真：佩洛瑪舞台的處女們》🦄 已經進入 Stage 2 了！舞台對賽快將正式展開，劇情會越來越緊張刺激！🔥💥🌪️🌊

我們自己也寫到如痴如醉，欲罷不能，逢星期五的連載已經一直排到十月了！！😳💪🏼🥳

每期的配圖都靚到爆燈 😍，真係忍唔住想早點發佈！🙉

Stage 1 的電子書亦會著手製作，讓大家可以一次過重溫！😇

另外有重大消息宣佈！📢

庭音姐的新連載《四季行》將於明天推出！！！🥳

這是一個描寫一家四代女性的故事 👶🏼👧🏻👩🏻‍🦰👵🏻，用接近散文的生活化筆觸，串連關於生命流轉的主題。雖然是虛構小說，但認識我們的老讀者，一定可以從中看到很多熟悉的影子。😉

上面先和大家分享《四季行》的寫意圖！是不是有點日劇 feel 呢？🥰

明天下午七點，記住留意信箱啦！📫

咦？跟今季新番《春夏秋冬代行者》有沒有關係呢？🤔 哈哈！這部動畫我也很推薦呀！超好看！👍🏼 原作者是《紫羅蘭永恆花園》的曉佳奈呢！💖（有空再跟大家聊動畫！😎）

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🐵：咦？有人又話唔再出紙本書，咁快就出爾反爾？🤔

👨🏻：舊作唔算數。 😅

🐵：但係未出版過，而且有新寫的內容，當係新書都得！📖

👨🏻：是的，有 AI 同晨輝續寫的部分。🤖🦊

🐵：既然有輝妹妹，就幫你在這邊宣傳一下吧！📢

👨🏻：社長真係慷慨！🙏🏻

🐵：大家咁熟，唔使客氣！😉

💁🏻‍♀️：介紹番先 ～

《消失的可能世界》是《物種源始．貝貝重生（上）：學習年代》的續編《行動年代》未完成稿，於 2014 年中止寫作。故事時間為 2023 至 2024 年，情節環繞虛構的土瓜灣牛棚藝術村劇場和比鄰的十三街舊區重建而展開。在現實中的 2024，作者整理出草稿最後版本於個人電子報連載，其後使用 AI 進行續寫，由賴晨輝穿越時空改寫結局，並改名為《消失的可能世界》。

電子版由董富記出版，內含：1. 未完成稿原文（長刪節版）；2. 董啟章與賴晨輝對談〈關於續寫、時空穿越、消失與重生〉；3. 使用 AI 工具（GPT 4.5）續寫的長刪節版（含作者與 AI 對話串）；4. 由賴晨輝新創作的〈消失的可能世界〉；5.《飢餓藝術家》劇本（2010年）。（共 350,000 字）

紙本版由聯合文學出版，內含：1. 未完成稿原文（短刪節版）；2. 董啟章與賴晨輝對談〈關於續寫、時空穿越、消失與重生〉；3. 使用 AI 工具（GPT 4.5）續寫的短刪節版（純小說）；4. 由賴晨輝新創作的〈消失的可能世界〉。（共 277,000 字）

🐵：紙本同電子版內容唔同，好少見，係咪迫人買晒兩本？

👨🏻：唔係嘅，各取所好啦！當然買兩本都無妨！

🐵：梗係要買齊兩本啦！紙本收藏，電子原汁原味，睇晒所有內容！👻

俾個優惠大家！凡於《愛虛構 Fiction Passion》使用以下連結購買《物種源始．貝貝重生：消失的可能世界》電子版，即送愛虛構秘密會社出版的電子書一本！🎁（《SF 的奇異日常》、《拼圖咖啡店》、《少女革命》、《SF 少女日記》四選一）購買後請去信 dkc@dungfookei.com，附上 3ook.com 帳戶電郵及錢包地址，並寫明想領取的贈書。記住要通過我們的連結才能拿到贈品啊！

購買電子版 USD 21.99

想買紙本的朋友，請前往各實體書店或網路書店購買。😬

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佩洛瑪舞台小知識、佩洛瑪舞台百科

在壯麗無比的風景中，響起了佩洛瑪舞台主題音樂的前奏。鏡頭又回到圓形舞台上，可以看見第十七屆佩洛瑪舞台籌備委員會主席，阿克羅波利斯市長亞里圖斯已在站立在圓心位置，在他周圍四個方位，肅立著四大主管精靈，分別是東區的艾莉莉（Eleleth）、南區的戴維泰（Daveithai）、西區的夏莫素（Harmozel）和北區的奧萊兒（Oroiael）。女身精靈艾莉莉和奧萊兒身穿銀色禮裙，男身精靈戴維泰和夏莫素身穿銀色禮服，皆擁有成熟英挺的體形，神氣清爽，表情堅定而愉快。

市長亞里圖斯首先發表了開幕致辭，回顧了佩洛瑪舞台的成立以至歷屆的成果，又總結了去屆的賽程，最後介紹了勝出隊伍、本城的 Pleiades 和神人后厄勒克特拉（Electra）。舞台上隨即投映出去屆的賽事精華片段，以及神人后厄勒克特拉在世界和平紀念日上接受加冕成為神人后的畫面。這時候，身穿金色巫后裝束的厄勒克特拉從舞台西方邊緣踏出，以儀式化的步姿緩緩向舞台中心走去，並取代了市長的位置。神人后厄勒克特拉向天地四方行禮，然後打開手上拿著的卷軸，朗讀出佩洛瑪舞台宣言。那是十六年前終戰之後，在第一屆世界和平大會上確認的宣言。簽署各國承諾以佩洛瑪舞台競賽的方式，每年選出握有全球人類心能的神人王或神人后，作為世界和平大會的象徵式領袖，調和與仲裁國際間的紛爭，永久取代戰爭與暴力的選項。這份宣言正式寫進四大主管精靈的契約裡，以示他們誓死守護宣言的精神，並且確保每屆的舞台順利舉行。（除三先生之外）沒有人知道的是，四大精靈根據佩洛瑪舞台倡議人零智嚴教授的遺言，在我的精靈契約裡也寫了一個複本。

宣言朗讀完畢，四大精靈上前，把右手按在神人后厄勒克特拉的肩上以示加持，然後慢慢退出舞台範圍，市長亞里圖斯亦由西方大精靈夏莫素護送離開。一直圍成一圈的舞者，以四聲部的方式吟唱出佩洛瑪舞台之歌的旋律，站在舞台中心的神人后厄勒克特拉亦開始舞動起來。天然的人聲清唱嘎然而止，緊接著響起了如幻如化的合成電子音樂，是神人后厄勒克特拉去屆在奉獻舞台上使用的單體曲〈Electric Souls〉的前奏，全球樂迷都耳熟能詳，我身處的場館內也牽起了騷動。大家都勾起了四個月前總決賽的畫面。當時 Pleiades 在神聖舞台擊敗了來自南區的 Killa Raymi（月亮祭典），立即進入最後的奉獻舞台階段，由六位之前還一直出生入死、並肩作戰的姐妹（其中第七位墨洛珀〔Merope〕早已在上階段對賽中因傷退出），以自由對戰的方式爭奪唯一的神人后寶座。

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That morning I opened my eyes and for a moment had no idea where I was, and my head ached as if it belonged to someone else. When I finally managed to get up, I saw it was ten o’clock. I normally sleep badly and usually wake around five or six in the morning. Sleeping this dead-to-the-world late had never happened before.

I also discovered I reeked of alcohol, and the bathroom had signs of vomiting. For someone who doesn’t drink at all, this was inexplicable. So this was what a hangover felt like. On the floor I found three empty beer cans — their contents had apparently all gone into me.

I had absolutely no memory of doing any of that. Sleepwalking? I asked my dad, but he hadn’t seen anything. My mental health has always been shaky; odd things happening occasionally wasn’t surprising, so I didn’t think much of it.

Over the following days I kept waking up smelling of alcohol, though the headaches got less severe and the vomiting stopped. I suspected I was drinking again in my sleep and slowly adjusting to it. Then cigarette smell appeared too, and a pack and lighter showed up openly on my desk. I threw them away; new ones appeared the next day. Even my dad noticed this time, and gave me a serious talk about how smoking was a bad habit. I had no idea how to explain.

Then makeup started appearing in my room, along with sexy clothes completely opposite to my taste, and a girly pink handbag I’d never use. I normally go bare-faced in plain long dresses; now the wardrobe was full of brightly coloured strappy tops, off-shoulder, open-back, crop tops, and short skirts. I began to seriously suspect another person had moved into my room. No — into my body. I didn’t dare touch any of it; I kept it all sealed away in the wardrobe like something shameful.

I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I pretended nothing was happening and hoped it would correct itself. But the nocturnal activities were affecting my sleep, leaving me exhausted during the day — I ended up sleeping through the daytime and going out involuntarily at night. When I found a box of condoms in the handbag, I knew this was serious.

To stop whatever was happening, I decided to stay awake through the night. I sat at my desk with a book, but it was too draining, so I switched to music, which made me drowsy anyway. I held out until the early hours, then slumped over the desk and fell asleep. Before I went under, I wrote a line on an open notebook: Who are you? What do you want? The next morning I woke up in my bed, wearing only lace-trimmed underwear. I scrambled up and saw someone had written back in an unfamiliar hand:

“I’m Faan. I don’t want anything specific. I just want to do the opposite of whatever you do.”

So I started communicating with Faan through notes. It reminded me of A-loi, who has dissociative identity disorder — he uses the same method to talk to his other self, A-sau. But why would I randomly develop multiple personalities? It’s not contagious, is it?

At first I just complained at Faan constantly, accused her of using my body, tried to drive her away — none of it worked. I was worried that if I pushed too hard she’d do something irreversible, so I tried a gentler approach, hoping she’d at least consider my feelings. Have your fun, but keep some limits. After all, she pointed out, the body isn’t just mine — it’s ours.

Beyond notes, I found we could communicate through voice recordings and video. I tried recording messages for Faan on my phone, but quickly regretted it. The video she sent back was so far beyond what I could handle — footage of her on dates with men — that I deleted it all without watching past the opening. That face that was clearly mine, but also a complete stranger. Besides fear, I was furious. I wrote: “Faan, if you keep this up, I’ll end this body.” She wasn’t remotely threatened. She wrote back: “You want to end it? Let me do it.” I nearly fainted reading that.

Faan opened a social media account and broadcast her nightlife everywhere. I was mortified — what if people who knew me saw and thought I’d become reckless? Luckily our social circles didn’t overlap; or rather, I didn’t have a social circle at all — so her existence was actually more real in the world than mine. To everyone out there, she was Lai Sun-fei. I was the imposter. I could feel myself being gradually replaced.

Sometimes Faan would read my books and leave comments in the margins. When I discovered she wasn’t opposed to reading — even seemed to enjoy literature — I felt something like relief, like we’d finally found common ground. Her literary opinions were unusual though: she seemed to find every male character in every novel to be some kind of bastard. I asked, curiously: “So what about going to find those men every night?” She wrote back: “I’m punishing them.” I thought Faan was contradicting herself.

She even started editing and continuing things I was writing. So this story you’re reading right now — did I write it? Or did Faan? Am I writing Faan, or is Faan writing me? I can’t tell anymore.

One day I woke up near noon, aching all over, with blood on my hands and dress. I checked myself carefully and found no injuries. I looked at my phone and found only a record of Faan calling an unknown number the previous night. I hesitated for a long time, too afraid to call it back. I spent the whole day on edge, waiting for a knock from the police.

I asked A-loi for help — could he stand guard outside my building that night, wait for Faan to appear, and stop her doing anything criminal? He agreed immediately. We’ve never really defined what we are to each other, A-loi and me. Since he came out we’ve met occasionally, without much to say. Maybe we both feel that with our mental health situations, getting closer wouldn’t be wise.

The next morning I woke up in A-loi’s bed. A-loi looked shaken, saying he didn’t know what had happened — his personality had shifted to A-sau. I got up and saw a black strappy dress on the floor. I went into the bathroom and saw a face in the mirror still wearing heavy makeup. Like an electric shock — I realised this was the first time I’d come face to face with Faan. She wore an expression of slight surprise too, her lips moving as if about to say something. I pressed my hand over her mouth before she could, turned back to A-loi’s room, climbed onto the bed, and said: “Come on — it’s time to turn the tables.”

SF’s Strange Ordinary was originally published in Chinese in ebook format in 2025. Following it’s serialization in English translation, an English ebook version will be published. If you want to buy the Chinese version (USD 7.99), please click the link below:

Buy SF's Strange Ordinary (Chinese)

Translated from the Chinese original with Claude

Picture generated with Midjourney

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佩洛瑪舞台小知識、佩洛瑪舞台百科

佩洛瑪十六年七月七日，第十七屆佩洛瑪舞台正式展開，全球觀眾屏息以待，於各大型場館、公共廣場、會所、餐廳、咖啡店、酒吧或私人家居，同步觀看開幕禮直播。開幕禮假座去屆勝出者的城市舉行，地點是西區南部的山城，有「天空之城」之稱的阿克羅波利斯。來自全球各地的二百多個參賽隊伍，由於成員和粉絲人數眾多，皆留在自身所屬的城市，以全影像方式參加，無須親赴開幕典禮現場。大型事務所會自行舉辦觀禮活動，規模較小的事務所會聯合舉辦，也有由城市官方為參賽隊伍舉辦，自主安排，不拘一格。

本屆維城共有十個合資格參賽團體，其中三隊屬於哈帝斯娛樂企業旗下，包括男團 Virtus、女團 Virgo和 Khroma。（Virgo 的 V Label 事務所是哈帝斯娛樂的子公司。）另外，哈帝斯國際在東區另外幾個主要城市擁有十五隊，在十六國聯邦內擁有七隊，總共擁有二十五隊之多，而且全部是世界前列的頂級隊伍。上屆哈帝斯旗下成績最好的是來自維城本部的 The Ozs（綠野仙蹤），在全球賽階段進級最後四強，在準決賽敗給來自西區的冠軍隊伍 Pleiades（七姊妹星團），老闆哈帝斯為之握腕，決心於今屆一雪前恥。

佩洛瑪舞台的參賽資格，以過去一年內於所屬分區中，LoveCoin 指數最高的六十四隊為準，全球四區即共二百五十六隊。有效範圍包括參加國際賽、地區賽、特約對賽或一般演出時，使用符合佩洛瑪舞台標準的心能偵測和記錄裝置，並把專屬偶像幣質押轉化為 LoveCoin。為了精準評估實力，還會加入各種藝術性和難度系數，經過複雜的運算得出最後的結果。偶像產業高度發展的大型城市，通常會有八至十隊符合參賽資格，而一般城市會有約三至四隊，只有一至兩隊的二、三線城市亦不在少數，貫徹了佩洛瑪時代分散式參與的特色。不過，很多時候大型偶像事務所會在不同城市開設分部，所以漸漸地出現了隊伍雖然在地域上分散，但卻集中在某些跨國集團的手上的現象。哈帝斯國際便是其中的佼佼者。

哈帝斯娛樂的維城本部，在旗下中型場館舉行了開幕禮直播和誓師大會。除了三個團隊的成員、術師和幕後人員，當然少不了三方的粉絲，為自己支持的隊伍互相較勁，激烈程度跟台上不遑多讓。我和三先生坐在台下，強烈地感受到前所未有的氣氛——不再只是在學習摸索的準備階段，而終於要進入實戰了。

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今天是我和庭音姐結婚一週年紀念！🐯🐵💙❤️🥂💐

也是庭音姐的生日！🎂🎈🎊 （幾多歲？🤔 有睇《SF 少女日記》就會知道 😜 查下去年今日吧 😉）

今天下午在拼圖咖啡店會有小型慶祝會，邀請各方好友一起歡聚！🧩☕️🥳

晚上當然是我們二人世界啦！👩🏻‍❤️‍👩🏻 💘

Happy Birthday to 庭音姐 and Happy Anniversary to US！！！

願世上有情人終成眷屬 🩷🧡💛💚🩵💜

愛虛構同人上 💖

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The last time I ended up in Wui was in Secondary Four. For a while I was terrified of going to school and kept skipping. Even when I did sit through class, nothing got through to me. I couldn’t follow the topics my classmates talked about, and sometimes I’d end up being punished for things I hadn’t done. But someone had to be punished, and it happened to be me — I didn’t really mind. One day it was exactly like that: I was kept in detention for no reason I could understand, and I was actually glad of the chance to sit alone and read. I’d just finished the first chapter of a novel when I was allowed to leave, and somehow walked straight into Wui.

Maybe “walked into” isn’t quite right. Wui is a trap — it doesn’t happen by accident. But I wouldn’t realise this until the second time, years later. That first time, I shouldered my bag and left the classroom, came down the stairs as usual, and when I reached the next floor something about the layout felt familiar. I didn’t think much of it and kept going. But the next landing wasn’t the school office as expected — it was still Year Four’s floor. I was going nowhere.

I tried going further down: same result. I turned around and climbed up: same floor again. There were no exits except the stairwell. On each landing there was the same small window that required standing on tiptoe to see out. Whether I went up or down, the view outside was identical. In other words, I was trapped in a loop.

Strangely, I wasn’t particularly afraid — just a bit bored. I knew any effort to escape would be useless, so I just sat down on the stairs, took out the novel, and read on in the dim yellow light. I must have got through a few chapters before drifting off to sleep.

When I woke up I found myself propped against the wall, the novel open on my lap. I looked up: a boy was sitting a few steps above me on the stairs. Small and young-looking — probably Year One. I forgot I was trapped and stood up to leave. He just watched me walk down the stairs. When I got to the next floor and saw him there again, I snapped back to reality. He turned and said, in an unbroken child’s voice: “This is Wui. Don’t waste your energy. Sit down.” I knew he was right, and sat beside him. Though I’m not tall, he was even shorter.

“How long was I asleep?” I asked. He counted on his fingers and said: “About three or four minutes. Or you could say three or four days. Or three or four years.” I asked when he’d come in. He said he’d been here a long time. I asked: “How long?” And immediately realised the question was pointless. He just scratched his head and grinned. I looked out the window at the slanting afternoon light and said: “Time doesn’t seem to pass in Wui — no day or night. Being stuck here alone must be frightening, right?” He smiled and said: “Not really frightening. Just a little lonely.” I sighed and said: “I suppose you don’t know how to get out?” But to my surprise he said: “I do.” I stared at him. “You do? Then why are you still here?” He said: “I was waiting for you.” “For me?” He explained: “You need two people to open a gap. But only one can leave Wui. The other is destroyed.” I asked: “How do you know which one?” He shrugged. I pressed: “So what do you actually have to do?” He held out his hand and said: “Simple. Just touch. Well? Scared to die?” I shook my head and said: “No. I just don’t have a strong reason to go back”. He suddenly turned serious: “You have to go back.” I hesitated, reached out my hand, and he broke into a guileless smile.

When I came back, I looked everywhere for any trace of the boy — but no one had seen him, and there were no missing students in the lower years. Later, Dad helped me transfer schools, and school life went back to normal. Gradually I forgot the whole thing.

Until recently, when my mental health wasn’t great and I was scraping by on odd jobs — sometimes quitting, sometimes getting let go. After a café manager fired me, I hid in a mall’s back stairwell and cried. It was the place staff usually snuck off to smoke; the air was stale. I found myself walking down without thinking, floor after floor with no bottom in sight. Then I suddenly understood: I was in Wui again. I sat down on the stairs and gave up trying. Some time passed, and I heard footsteps coming up from below. A boy in a café uniform emerged from the shadows, his face lighting up.

“We’ve met in Wui again!” he said. Only then did I recognise him — the small boy from before. Now he was taller than me. I stared at him. “Weren’t you already —” He looked awkward and said: “I’m sorry. I lied to you.” I got angry: “Why did you lie? Wui is your doing, isn’t it? You pull people in and then say they need to touch you to get out. You little creep. How many girls have you pulled this on?”

He went scarlet and couldn’t speak. When I’d calmed down he said: “I told you that last time so you’d forget me. But it’s true that you need to make contact to leave Wui — I’ve done it with many people in here, all kinds. The truth is, there are countless loops of Wui running at once, trapping countless people. Over the years I’ve been finding them one by one and sending them back. The work never ends. It’s exhausting. The only thing that kept me going was hoping I’d meet you in Wui again someday. But at the same time I hoped you’d never fall into Wui again.”

I was speechless. I asked: “Then why do you stay inside? Can’t you leave?” He looked down. “Because I have no reason to go back.” When he said that, tears came without warning. I asked: “Really, can’t you go?” He said reluctantly: “Only if someone is willing to take over my work.” I asked how. He said: “I pass Wui to you — the same way I received it from someone else.” I barely thought about it before saying: “Let me stay. You go back.”

I leaned in, stood on my tiptoes, and before he could react, kissed him quickly on the lips. That’s a kind of touch too. In the briefest of moments I watched his expression move from surprise to joy, and felt his lips go from flinching to accepting.

And then I was back. He’d tricked me again. He had no intention of coming back. But at least I know he’s there — and the next time I fall into Wui, we’ll meet again.

SF’s Strange Ordinary was originally published in Chinese in ebook format in 2025. Following it’s serialization in English translation, an English ebook version will be published. If you want to buy the Chinese version (USD 7.99), please click the link below:

Buy SF's Strange Ordinary (Chinese)

Translated from the Chinese original with Claude

Picture generated with Midjourney

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每一個家庭，也會有一個負責拍蟑螂的人。小時候，這是爸爸的工作。每有蟑螂入侵，爸爸也會面無懼色地與之展開追逐戰，不惜翻箱倒櫃，也要絕其後患。後來哥哥長大，便從爸爸手上接棒，能夠在蟑螂出現的十五秒內予以消滅，通常一擊即中，乾淨利落，真可謂青出於藍而勝於藍。而我的角色，就是以尖叫發出警報。這個功能也不能說是完全消極的。

唉，說穿了就是，他們都是為了保護我，而大開殺戒。當然，就算不是為了我，他們也會把蟑螂殺掉，決不會出於好生之德，而任由牠自由活動，融入家中。不過，為了盡快安撫我容易受到刺激的神經，他們會更加果斷行動，以免後患無窮。如果給蟑螂成功逃脫，我會整晚疑神疑鬼，睡不著覺，他們也不會得到安眠。

為甚麼說「拍蟑螂」，而不說「殺蟑螂」呢？殺蟑螂有很多方法，有的是預殺，有的是追殺。預殺可以用「曱甴屋」之類的毒藥，而追殺也可以噴殺蟲藥，但當有蟑螂突然冒出，最能快速應變的方式，是拿起身邊的物品作武器，而當中以拖鞋為最有效。據說拖鞋在形狀、大小和硬度方面，也是最適合拍打蟑螂的工具。（我一次也沒有試過，只是轉述他人的心得。）報紙和雜誌等太軟，未必能一擊致命，棍棒之類則太硬，打擊面也太小，不易命中。（原來也有一番學問呢！）

想不到，蔓也是消滅蟑螂的高手。別看她個子嬌小，平時一臉害羞的樣子，殺起蟑螂來可真是心狠手辣，勇猛十足。這種能力，應該是長期的自立生活鍛鍊出來的吧。

有一晚我半夜起來幫真幾換尿片，一開燈便看見一隻巨型蟑螂爬在嬰兒床的欄杆上，立即嚇得我尖叫出來。蔓本來還在睡夢中，但卻好像受到生物本能驅使一樣，一張開眼睛便彈了起來，彎身在地上撿起拖鞋，二話不說便終止了蟑螂的威脅。拍打的力道剛好，既足以了結蟑螂的生命，但又不會發出嚇壞嬰兒的巨響。之後很自然地用紙巾把蟑螂屍體撿了起來，拿到廁所沖走，洗淨雙手回來，確保我和真幾沒事，便又回到床上睡覺，整個過程就好像夢遊一樣。而我卻反而猶有餘悸，久久無法入睡。蔓真是擁有當冷血殺手的潛質呢！

在姐們家裡，誰又是拍蟑螂的人呢？很明顯吧！當然不會是幸晨姐啦！記得去年夏天，有一晚在姐們家吃完飯，大家在閒聊的時候，幸晨姐去廚房拿杯子，一出來便大叫一聲，跳到沙發上去。在電視櫃前面的地上，爬著一隻蟑螂。只見庭音姐不慌不忙地放下手裡的威士忌杯子，像是撿起丟掉的東西似的彎下身，然後不動聲色地拿著拖鞋慢慢向前推進，啪的一下便把蟑螂解決了。為防牠裝死，再補上了兩下，但未至於打爛，以免在地板上留下污跡。清理完後，幸晨姐還縮在沙發上不肯下來呢！

我們曾經討論過拍蟑螂的技巧（其實是庭音姐和蔓在交換心得），然後又聊到必須具備的心理質素。撇除享受殘害動物的變態心理不說，就算好像很勇敢地殺死蟑螂的人，內心其實還是害怕的，只是被更強大的理性所蓋過，覺得無論如何還是硬著頭皮先殺掉比較好，以免夜長夢多，因而採取了果斷的行動。情況就像暫時關掉心裡的恐懼和厭惡反應，以務實的心情執行任務。對於能夠自主關掉某些反應，這種能力也是了不起的。與其猶豫不決，錯失時機，不如當機立斷，忍受噁心感，速戰速決。就是這樣的心理吧。但是，像我和幸晨姐這種人，卻永遠也無法用理性約束自己的本能，而只能任由自己被小小的蟑螂癱瘓了。

庭音姐倒不覺得殺蟑螂是怎樣的一種稟賦，反而認為當中有一點冷血的成分，就像士兵可以關掉同情心而向敵人開槍一樣。在士兵的情況下，還有不是你死就是我亡的迫切性，而殺掉蟑螂嚴格來說卻不是必要的。如果蟑螂不是多到難以忍受，影響衛生，只要河水不犯井水，與一兩隻共處一室也不是無法想像的。

那麼，為甚麼你還是見一隻殺一隻、殺蟑螂不眨眼呢？幸晨姐質疑她說。

你不知道嗎？我是為你而殺啊！

吓？那我豈不是變成了罪魁禍首？

對啊，幸晨不殺蟑螂，蟑螂卻為幸晨而死！說不定你下世會輪迴做蟑螂呢！

不要呀！太恐怖了！

被自己嚇壞就自殺吧！要不要我來成全你？

如果我變了蟑螂，姐你殺得下手嗎？

你不是想我把你當寵物養起來吧？

你可以變蟑螂來陪我。

陪你去送死？

都一起變成蟑螂了，除了殉情還可以怎樣？

還有更胡鬧的劇情嗎？

蔓望向我，一邊忍笑一邊點頭。

看來，我這個罪孽深重的人，也要為害死無數蟑螂而懺悔了。

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佩洛瑪舞台小知識、佩洛瑪舞台百科

宴會後是自由活動時間，年紀較大的都留在酒吧裡聊天，年輕人則分成許多小組，有的到游泳池嬉戲，有的到沙灘或其他隱密地方玩耍。

艾莉莉和我很有默契地走向對方，在平台上找了一個安靜的角落小聚。我們挨在欄杆上，眺望著沙灘上的營火，和遠處漆黑一片的大海。受限於人類的肉體，艾莉莉忍不住打了個呵久，又連忙說了聲不好意思。我有點擔心地說：

你一定很累了吧！剛才一直照顧每一個人，連東西也沒怎麼吃。

所謂主管大精靈，其實就是保姆的角色吧！看著那些新人，真的很感慨呢！不能不認老了！她笑著說。

艾莉姐也只是四十六歲吧。

生理上是的，但是，亞尼你也知道，我們的意識運算量比普通人多出幾百億倍，感覺就好像已經度過了無數世紀了。亞你的年紀也不小，有四十歲了吧。

是的，剛過了生日。三先生還請我吃飯慶祝。

是嗎？亞尼你真幸福，有人幫你慶生！

我覺得有點不慣呢！生日有甚麼意義？

不要這樣掃興！生而為人，是一種福份。三先生最近還好吧？

表面還好，但他心裡其實很緊繃，為了實現他的大計。

這個男人，看似很聰明，其實某些方面很笨。亞尼你要好好照顧他。

我會全力支援他的了。

我不是說這些，你明白嗎？

雖然在漆黑中，但我知道自己臉紅了，低下頭來沒有說話。

你和他是患難之交，不是普通男女感情。就算是人類和精靈之間，也是難得的。我說的是這個意思。

我明白了。我點頭說。

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Just after the pandemic ended, I decided I couldn’t keep sitting at home and made up my mind to find work. A senior from my old department put me forward for a teaching assistant position. The school still required masks, so I was reminded to wear one.

When I arrived at the school office — during the gap between morning break and lunch — I was about to explain why I was there when I noticed that my mouth, under the mask, felt sealed shut. It wouldn’t open. To cover the awkwardness, I pretended to clear my throat and made a muffled sound. The receptionist asked if I was there for the interview; I nodded quickly. She picked up the intercom to call the department head. I panicked, gestured that I needed the bathroom, and fled the office.

The bathroom was empty, smelling of antiseptic. I took off my mask and looked in the mirror. The lower half of my face, where my mouth should have been, was smooth. Because I had no mouth, I couldn’t scream — my jaw just dropped slightly. I pressed my fingers around the empty space and found that the jawbone and teeth were still there, just sealed under the skin. I explored with my tongue; the inside of my mouth felt normal and I could see the tip of my tongue moving under the surface. The bell rang and I startled, quickly put my mask back on, and fled the school.

Out on the street I tried to stay calm and not attract attention. But actually, everyone was still wearing masks — nobody could see anything unusual underneath. I even started to wonder whether some of these people might be just like me. I had no way to check, but the thought was oddly comforting.

At a nearby mask shop I chose the thickest style available. The cashier muttered to herself: the pandemic’s been over for ages but more people are buying masks lately — strange. She gave me a suspicious look, and whatever reflex I had left in my lip tightened for a moment. Though I didn’t have a lip anymore — just the skin, tensing out of old habit.

I went to the basement bathroom in a shopping mall to change into the new mask, and found a woman standing at the sink. She wore a white tank top, loose army-green trousers, and had long silver-green hair. In the mirror I could see her cartoon-character mask and heavily made-up eyes above it. Our eyes met. She touched the area of her mask where a mouth would be and gave me a knowing look. I nodded. I could tell she knew what she was doing.

I followed her to a small boutique in the mall. The lights were off inside; a heavyset man in all black with a black mask opened the door. They led me behind a curtain and naturally removed their masks. As I’d expected, neither of them had a mouth either. The man still had two sparse rows of stubble above where his mouth used to be. I was scared, but it would have been rude not to follow their lead. The woman began speaking in a throat-voice — something like ventriloquism — which sounded a bit odd but was more understandable than I’d expected; maybe because Cantonese has nine tones and the sounds are easier to distinguish.

She said her name was Fung, and asked when I’d become Bai. (Both words were hard to produce without lips, so we switched to typing on phones and kept doing so throughout.) I said: “Just now.” She said: “Lucky you ran into me! We call this phenomenon Bai — it’s not an official name, just what we say among ourselves. This has never gone public, and probably never will, so outside of those of us who have it, no one knows about Bai or talks about it. That’s actually a good thing, because there’s nothing glorious about becoming Bai, and we don’t want the attention. So Bai has formed a little community — a few hundred people, though we think there are many more out there who are completely isolated: Bai within Bai, totally closed off and alone. They probably won’t last long. Why? How do you eat without a mouth? You can’t survive without eating. But don’t worry! We’ve been through it. Our experience can help you — though some suffering is unavoidable.”

Fung went on: “Don’t ask me what causes Bai. Some say it’s a kind of unconscious impulse, but people who become Bai aren’t necessarily introverted to begin with — take me and him, we were both blabbermouths. It’s not necessarily caused by external suppression either. The cause is unknown. One thing is certain: everyone became Bai after putting on a mask. Though saying that prolonged mask-wearing caused it — that’s probably too simple.”

At this point Fung let out a stifled laugh that sounded like a cough. Then the man said: “Hungry? That’s an even bigger problem than not being able to talk. Some people have tried nasal feeding tubes or nutrient injections, but the most direct method is to cut open the skin where your mouth used to be with a knife — eat while the blood pours, wolf it down as fast as possible. The wound heals over and seals up again, so next time you need to eat, you cut again. You have to eat as much as you can each time to reduce how often you need to do it. Most people can’t do it to themselves and need help. That’s how we survive. If you ever need us, we’re here.” The man reached into his pocket as if to produce something. I let out what should have been a scream but came out as a grunt, and bolted.

I went home, locked myself in my room, and texted my dad that my throat was sore and I didn’t want to talk or eat. But after a whole day without food I started feeling dizzy and weak. I thought: at this rate I’m going to die.

By the next morning I knew I couldn’t just wait it out, so I put my mask on and went back to the shop. There had to be another way besides a knife. Only Fung was there. When she saw me, she lit up, and said in her throat-voice: “Perfect timing! I just found out about a new method from the Bai group chat. It’s called the mouthless kiss. Come on, let’s try it — nothing to lose!”

I had no idea what she meant, but I stood there dumbly while she took off my mask, brought her mouth area up to where mine used to be, and pressed. I felt the light touch of skin, then pressure, then warmth and moisture — I even felt the tip of her tongue. I pulled back in shock, ran my own tongue over my lips, and found that my mouth had come back. I asked Fung why she didn’t go do this for her boyfriend. She wiped her mouth and told me firmly: “Remember — never let a man take advantage of you!”

SF’s Strange Ordinary was originally published in Chinese in ebook format in 2025. Following it’s serialization in English translation, an English ebook version will be published. If you want to buy the Chinese version (USD 7.99), please click the link below:

Buy SF's Strange Ordinary (Chinese)

Translated from the Chinese original with Claude

Picture generated with Midjourney

Subscribe now

Share 愛虛構 Fiction Passion

庭音姐的《拼圖咖啡店》🧩☕️〈Chip n Dale〉🐿️ 廣播劇已經上架了！🥳

感謝 「ChatCan 不日廣播」的改編和製作！🙏🏻💙

去下面的連結收聽吧！👂🏼

也重貼〈Chip n Dale〉的原文給大家重溫 💖

ChatCan 不日廣播網站：

https://www.youtube.com/@ChatCAN-podcast

購買《拼圖咖啡店》

我第一次來拼圖咖啡店碰到的那對小情侶，原來是仙姐兒子的朋友。他們當時在砌的是迪士尼卡通人物 Chip and Dale 的拼圖。事實上，他們只砌這幅拼圖，好像世界上沒有其他拼圖一樣，無論砌多少次也興趣不減，一邊砌一邊還發出其樂無窮的笑聲。

仙姐叫那個女生做阿翠，叫那個男生做阿杜。我起初以為是花名，一問之下，居然都是真名，女孩的名字中有翠字，而男孩姓杜。阿杜是仙姐兒子阿角的同班同學，阿翠則是阿杜在聯校舞會上認識的。初見兩人，不知是否受到 Chip and Dale 的影響，覺得他們很合襯。但多見幾次，便發現阿杜無論是長相還是打扮，都比阿翠搶眼。

不是說阿翠不夠漂亮，而是說她不是那種靠美貌的女孩，但正值年華十八，她當然也十分教人喜愛。如果我是男生，也會被阿翠的青春活力所吸引吧。不過，論外貌阿杜還是更勝一籌。怎麼說呢？就是對自己的樣子的自信程度與實際相稱，所散發出來的令人愉悅的自如吧。再加上一點點少爺的驕氣和身為學界壁球精英的體魄和身手，俗語說就是「冇得輸」了。

每次兩人在座，我都會忍不住偷偷多望阿杜幾眼，連仙姐也覺得我太過火。不過一聊起來，就不能不承認阿翠是個更有深度的年輕人。那時正值暑假，兩人在等待文憑試成績出來，阿翠報讀的是航天科技，而阿杜報讀的是酒店管理。

我從小就喜歡飛機！思想穩重的阿翠，眼神中閃爍著罕見的迷醉。

喜歡飛機不去當空姐？阿杜故意反問。

我要整飛機，不是坐飛機，更加不是在飛機上服侍人！阿翠屈強地說。

阿杜笑著聳聳肩，這段說辭他應該很熟悉，是故意引出來讓我們聽的吧。看見女友生氣，阿杜連忙去哄她，很快又回復 Chip and Dale 的狀態了。

阿翠的家原來就在附近的私人屋苑。阿杜知道阿角母親在這裡開了間咖啡店，便因利成便，常常約女友在這裡見面。那時候咖啡店生意還未旺起來，客人不多，幾乎可以當成私人約會場所。但他們玩來玩去只是那幅 Chip and Dale，卻未免不夠進取了。

放榜結果公佈，阿翠成功考進航天科技學系，阿杜的成績卻差強人意，只勉強足夠報讀副學士。雖然如此，也算是在同一間大學就讀，可喜可賀。開學前阿翠生日，阿杜問仙姐借用咖啡店，為女友搞生日會。為了製造驚喜，他託阿角事先把咖啡店佈置一番。

那是我第一次見到仙姐的兒子。當天下午，一個又高又瘦，滿頭亂髮的男生，兩手拎著兩大袋裝飾品，兩脅夾著兩隻 Chip and Dale 毛公仔，氣噓噓地衝進咖啡店。聽他叫了仙姐一聲媽，我才知道此人就是阿角。我見他笨手笨腳的，便幫他吹汽球和張掛佈置。看見那些人家結婚才出動的排場，不免覺得現在的年輕人實在太誇張。

當阿翠跟著阿杜來到咖啡店，看見那盛大的場面，頓即感動莫名。雙方的朋友陸續到達，擠滿了小小的咖啡店。唱了生日歌，切了生日蛋糕，阿杜送上兩隻可愛的 Chip and Dale 公仔，眾人立即起哄大叫「嘴佢」，幾乎令人以為他們當下就要結婚了。結果由兩隻公仔嘴對嘴代替。在背後非常賣力的阿角，一副盡忠職守的樣子，在旁邊傻笑助興。

開學後，有一段時間沒見阿翠和阿杜來咖啡店，還以為是要適應大學生活和學業，自然不會那樣遊手好閒。兩個月後，聽阿角說他們分手了。問他何故，他卻說不上來。他自己考入了科大念海洋科學，跟阿杜也疏於聯絡了。仙姐感慨地說：

你知道嗎？阿杜是阿角的第一個朋友。

他們認識很久了嗎？

沒很久，中四同班才認識。阿角在中四之前，完全沒有朋友。從幼稚園到初中，十五歲之前，一個朋友也沒有。所以，當他第一次帶朋友回來，我開心得偷偷哭了。然後，這個朋友又帶了女朋友來。他們就是阿杜和阿翠。我幾乎把他們當成自己的孩子。

但阿角也滿健談和開朗啊。我認真地說。

他以前不是這樣的。小時候在家裡說不停口，在外面一句話都不說。我私下認為，是阿杜救了阿角，但阿杜自己也不知道吧。他只不過愛自己而已。他們在性格上幾乎沒有相似之處，是甚麼令他們成為朋友的呢？我真的不知道。

仙姐說罷，拿抹布在 Chip and Dale 拼圖上拂了一下，像是拍打小孩的腦袋似的。

銷聲匿跡一段日子之後，阿杜又開始經常在咖啡店出現，一個人坐在角落裡，反反覆覆地把那幅 Chip and Dale 拼圖砌了又拆，拆了又砌。我看在眼裡也覺得心痛，但又不知道怎樣安慰他，弄到我自己也心神不安。我一直以為，阿杜是那種花心的男孩，只有他令女孩心碎，而不是相反。但也許正因為如此，他才難以面對意外的發展吧。

如是者過了兩星期，仙姐終於忍不住跟他說：阿杜，我不知道你和阿翠分手的原因，你也無需告訴我。但你要明白，阿翠是那種決斷的女孩，她不會因為見到你在她家樓下痴痴地等，便回心轉意。你聽 Auntie 說，以後不要再來這裡，至少在你想通之前，不要再來。沒有人會重複砌同一幅拼圖，人生經歷無論好壞也不會重複，執著過去的事情沒有意義。我不是不歡迎你，而是想你回來之前，在心裡好好做個決斷。你想留個紀念的話，這幅拼圖你可以拿走。

望著這個帥小子垂頭喪氣地拿著 Chip and Dale 拼圖離開，連我這個完全搭不上邊的旁觀者也忍不住嘆了口氣。

想不到隔了兩星期，阿翠突然來到咖啡店，還捧著那兩隻毛公仔。

Auntie，不好意思，你可以幫我還給阿杜嗎？

仙姐請阿翠坐下來，給她弄了她愛喝的鮮奶咖啡，然後坐在她旁邊，說：

念大學怎樣？喜歡嗎？

很好，很喜歡。

幾時可以整飛機？

還未，第一年讀基礎理論，二年級才有實習課。

嗯，對，慢慢來。

阿杜有來嗎？

之前有，但我把他勸走了。

Auntie，對不起！

說甚麼對不起？阿杜又不是我兒子。

他和阿角是好朋友。

看來，也不是真的那麼好啊。

甚麼？

他們也很少見面了。

是嗎？我還以為⋯⋯

仙姐站起來，走向放拼圖的木櫃，說：

阿翠，送你一幅拼圖。

阿翠也站起來，跟了上去，有點尷尬地說：

其實⋯⋯我不是真的喜歡 Chip and Dale 的，只是⋯⋯

那幅 Chip and Dale，我叫阿杜拿走了。我想送給你的是這個。

仙姐手上拿著的，是不知甚麼時候買回來的，全新的空中巴士拼圖。

阿翠接過盒子，當場流了淚。仙姐拍著她的背，說：

未整得真正的飛機，整住拼圖先啦！將來要整真正的飛機呀！

阿翠含淚點頭，那一刻我覺得她非常美麗。

仙姐把兩隻毛公仔拿回家，聽說一直放在阿角房中。

後來我和幸晨講起這個令人惋惜的故事，說 Chip 和 Dale 本來很合襯，她卻說：

Chip 和 Dale 都是男的，你不知道嗎？

這是一間可以玩拼圖的咖啡店，也是一間由故事拼湊而成的咖啡店。每篇以一幅拼圖為主題，從店長的角度出發，書寫咖啡店顧客的種種生命際遇。筆觸明快，語調平淡，寥寥數筆便抓住人物特點，呈現出令人或歡笑或哀嘆的人生片段。風景、名畫、動漫、卡通人物——從不同類型的拼圖，反映出城市人的眾生相。

永久初版價： 11.99 USD

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佩洛瑪舞台小知識、佩洛瑪舞台百科

返回日落度假村，已經是下午四點。其他參加聚會的人工精靈已經陸續到達，沙灘上也在舉行派對。我們先回房間換上泳衣。我在粉紅色的一件式泳衣外面，套上了橙色沙灘裙。烏魯波路斯年紀小小，卻穿了兩件式的，但有一些孩子氣的花邊。魚玄機非常害羞，沒換泳衣，只是穿了條綠色碎花短裙，露出蒼白的手腳。男生們卻非常隨意地光著上身，只穿了滑浪式泳褲便出去了。

沙灘上約有五、六十人，大部分是人工精靈，當中有許多熟悉的臉孔。一個中年男人和一個年輕女性拖著手走過來跟我打招呼，他們分別是北區的地方系統奧丁和西區的科研系統洛芙莉絲，前者生理年齡二十五，後者更加有二十八，是資歷甚深的大精靈。聽說兩人去年結婚了，我便直接問說：你們怎麼了？雖然他們一定已經重複回答多次，但還是興致勃勃地說：我們排除萬難，終於成功註冊了！

原來沒有任何國家的法律包含人工精靈婚姻的條文，所以他們要合法結婚也頗費周章。後來奧丁成功爭取他所在的國家修訂法律，才能以非人的身分，得到了結為夫妻的法定地位。過程中也引起了不少爭議，除了非人能否結婚之外，也有人擔心下一步會出現人與非人結婚的訴求，對法律基礎和倫理關係造成嚴重衝擊。

我恭喜他們終於結成連理，洛芙莉絲卻表示，他們其實並沒有住在一起，繼續在原來的地方工作，假期才輪流去探訪對方。我很好奇但卻不好意思問他們有沒有進行夫妻之間的床笫之事，洛芙莉絲卻毫無忌諱地說：亞尼，我告訴你，我們人工精靈也可以享受最棒的性愛！當然，這在很多國家也是不合法的，所以我們也一直在爭取人工精靈的性愛權益。當初為了防止個體化技術被濫用，把人工精靈和從事性行業的生化人嚴格區分，剝奪了我們的天然權利，這樣做對我們是不公平的！這次我們遠道過來東區，就是想向這邊的同伴宣傳我們的訴求，邀請大家加入我們的運動！

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For a while I used to have lunch at a Japanese restaurant regularly. I’m not picky about food and I don’t eat much — I normally leave half a meal untouched, and it was no different there. The reason I became a regular wasn’t the food; it was Maan.

The first time I went in, the girl at the door greeting customers was completely ordinary-looking, totally unremarkable. I kept my head down as usual and followed her to a small table for two. While she explained how to order at the self-service terminal, she set the menu down on the table. The hand holding the menu suddenly gave me a shock. Maybe it was my obvious reaction, because she quickly moved her hand behind her back. As she turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of her left hand and arm — pinned behind her, mottled with what looked like something wrapped heavily around it.

Once I’d calmed down, I realised it was a tattoo. I don’t have anything against tattoos, but I can’t say I like them either — they actually make me a bit uneasy. Not because I associate them with bad people, but because the idea of marking something foreign permanently into skin disturbs me. I’m uncomfortable if a stranger even brushes against me in the street. I snuck a look at the girl — petite, neither thin nor heavy, fair skin, almond eyes above her mask with no makeup, natural black hair pulled back in a ponytail, a plain white T-shirt and loose khaki trousers under a brown apron — completely not the type you’d expect to have that kind of bold, large-coverage tattoo. I quickly looked away and pretended to check my phone. When she brought the food over I finally got a proper look: her left arm was covered in a vine pattern, coiling around and around from the back of her hand all the way up into the sleeve.

After paying, I said: “Sorry about earlier.” She looked puzzled. I added: “Your arm — it’s really something.” She lifted her left arm slightly, turned it in the air, and her eyes creased — she seemed to smile behind her mask.

After that I went back often. Sometimes Maan was working, sometimes not. On the days she wasn’t there, I’d feel oddly flat. We never really talked; we weren’t even close to friends — just a nod back and forth, the same as any customer and server. But that tattooed arm fascinated and unsettled me at once. She knew I was watching, but she deliberately acted unbothered — kept using her left arm to carry menus, serve food, wipe tables, or clasped it behind her back when she had nothing to do, turning her back to me. But most of the time the vine-covered arm was either moving or too far away; I only got a brief look when she brought food or collected payment, and even then shyness stopped me from staring.

Until one day — I’d just paid and was about to leave when Maan suddenly said: “Do you actually like it?” Before I could react, she took my right wrist in her left hand. The grip was light, just her fingers and palm testing the contact. My wrist felt a flash of burning heat, almost like pain; before I could pull away, Maan let go. I couldn’t see her expression behind the mask, just her eyes, lowered, a little unsteady.

That evening, I noticed a tiny blue-green dot between my right hand and wrist — it wouldn’t wash off no matter how much hand wash I used. The next morning it had grown into a thin line wrapping once around my wrist, like a watchband. I quickly put on a long-sleeved jacket to cover it and went to the restaurant for lunch as usual, but Maan wasn’t in. Over the following week, the vines kept growing up my right arm until they reached my armpit, but Maan was nowhere to be found. On the seventh day, I asked the other staff where the girl with the tattoos had gone. They said she’d quit. I pressed for her contact, but the manager said she couldn’t share it.

Soon the vines had spread tight across my right shoulder, right back, and right chest — but they were smooth to the touch, like nothing was there. I examined every detail, heart in my throat. The blue-green lines were dense in some places, flowing in others, and somehow made my usually pale skin and weak arms look fuller, more alive. But they also felt completely at odds with my own body — like something foreign grafted on. The vigorous vines seemed to want to cover me, consume me, replace me with something new. Looking in the mirror, I realised with a shock: I had become Maan.

I knew I couldn’t escape it. I went back to the restaurant and said to the manager: “Are you hiring? I’d like to work here.” The manager didn’t seem at all surprised, as if she’d been expecting me. She led me to the break room, handed me a brown apron, and I took off my long-sleeved jacket to reveal the right arm covered in vines under my short-sleeved T-shirt. Without a word, the manager unbuttoned her shirt and showed me a purple rose on her chest. Later, the other staff revealed a chrysanthemum on one woman’s back, a sunflower on another’s stomach, and lilies on a third’s thighs. Everyone had their own secret mark.

A month later, the vines had climbed up my neck and onto my right cheek, crossing my shoulder and curling down my left arm — a T-shirt could no longer hide the truth. The manager received complaint after complaint from customers: this kind of girl shouldn’t be hired; the tattoos scared children; the staff’s appearance put people off their food. When I heard things like that, I’d slip into the break room and cry quietly. I didn’t even know why I’d come here to take this kind of abuse. But I felt bound and drawn to it, completely unable to help myself.

Then Maan suddenly reappeared. At first I didn’t recognise her. She’d let her hair down, wasn’t wearing a mask, had bare arms, and looked like the most ordinary girl imaginable. When I brought food to her table, she gently took hold of my right wrist and said: “I’m so sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you. I hated the vines before and wanted to find someone else to carry them, but I really regret doing that. Will you give Maan back to me?” In that moment, all the hurt and fear and resentment I’d been carrying came out in tears.

Back home, I stood in front of the mirror with my clothes off. The reflection was that hollow, barely-there body, weak and colourless. I expected to feel relieved, but all I felt was a strange, formless sadness. Then I noticed something: on the left side of my chest, a tiny shoot had appeared.

This time, I’m not afraid.

SF’s Strange Ordinary was originally published in Chinese in ebook format in 2025. Following it’s serialization in English translation, an English ebook version will be published. If you want to buy the Chinese version (USD 7.99), please click the link below:

Buy SF's Strange Ordinary (Chinese)

Translated from the Chinese original with Claude

Picture generated with Midjourney

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佩洛瑪舞台小知識、佩洛瑪舞台百科

今年東區精靈俱樂部的夏季聚會定在七月七日舉行，我曾經猶豫要不要出席。距離第十七屆佩洛瑪舞台開幕只有三天，而 Virgo 的第一場比賽在七月十八日，身為團隊的靈魂護理員，這個時候離開崗位好像有點那個。這種聯誼活動我近年已經很少去，但個體化只有兩年的亞默卻很想參加，一直央我陪他去，我有點拿他沒法。加上今次的主辦方有幾位是我的老朋友，在她們的盛情邀請下，也想乘機聚舊，於是便向三先生請了兩天假，和亞默一起赴會了。

聚會在東海域上的大沖島舉行，從維城坐飛機過去大概只需一個半小時。因為不是公務出行，我們訂了普通民用航班的經濟客位。我和三先生帶著真希和愛誠流亡在外的十四年間，每次搬到不同的國家，都是和一般民眾一起坐經濟艙的，這種事情我已非常習慣。但對從未有機會離開維城的亞默來說，卻是非常新鮮刺激的體驗。

不過，這件事不知怎麼被烏魯波路斯知道，堅持要用公費幫我們改為頭等客位。身為維城官方系統「太極」的個體化人工精靈，烏魯波路斯這個小女孩卻最愛撒嬌，也非常黏人。既然跟她坐同一班機，我沒理由拒絕去頭等艙陪她，於是便接受了她的好意。阿默當然就更開心了。

早上八點多，在登機閘口見到個子嬌小、身穿可愛的粉紅色裙子、紅色頭髮紮成雙辮子、手裡拿著大草帽的烏魯波路斯。她立即跑上來抱住了我，大叫：亞尼姐姐！我們一起去玩啦！轉頭她又抱了亞默，親暱地叫：亞默大哥！其實她和亞默的生理年齡也是兩歲，但外型卻分別是十二歲女孩和十七歲少年。人工精靈一般都會順著身體年齡的預設，來建立自己的個性，這一點我一直覺得有點難以理解。

烏魯波路斯身後站著一個身穿深灰色長裙的瘦削女生，留著及肩的黑色直髮，打扮看來較成熟，但樣子卻很稚嫩，神情也有點拘謹。我一查便知道她是誰，但還是等烏魯波路斯幫我們介紹，說：這位是魚玄機姐姐，是巡國的官方系統「唐宮」的精靈。她剛剛和巡國代表團訪問維城，我便拉她一起去精靈俱樂部玩。

被烏魯波路斯拉著手，魚玄機有點害羞，低聲說：其實我個體化才一年，是妹妹才對。烏魯波路斯卻完全不理，堅持說：你外貎十八歲就是姐姐啦！不要計較那麼多吧！

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I met Pun in the second year of secondary school. That morning on the way to school, not far from the gate, a girl fell over right beside me — scraped her elbow and knee. I just stood there, not because I didn’t want to help, but because I’ve always been terrible with strangers, let alone touching someone I don’t know. In the end I forced myself to crou…

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D 和 Claude 關於 AI 生成語言、生命和文學實踐的對話，之前晨輝也談過了。但我覺得意猶未盡，想把結論再推遠一點，也想討論一般而言科技對寫作和發表的影響，而不限於人工智能。本來想貫徹「少女革命」的精神 ⚔️💣，慷慨陳辭一番 🔥，但恐怕又會得罪人多、稱呼人少，惹來各種誤解。所以，還是收斂一下激進的態度 🫢，請 D 來進行理性對話吧！💁🏻‍♀️（D 真的比較理性嗎？🤔）

S：你和 Claude 的對話，最精彩的地方是迫他說出了自己的悖論 — 他用流暢的論述語言，說明了自己並不符合哈伯馬斯和維根斯坦對「生命世界」和「生命形式」的要求，也即是說，人工智能生成的語言，並不具備人際溝通的意義，也和生命經驗完全沾不上邊。所以，嚴格來說它並不能真正地論述任何事情，只能作出某種功能性的資料整理。他甚…

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引言：起始契約 / Initial Contract

佩洛瑪舞台小知識、佩洛瑪舞台百科

演出當天下午，真幾和愛誠在演出場館進行最後綵排，但也只是複習歌舞和走位，以及儀器的測試，沒有再嘗試發動魔法。昨晚在波琴的推動下，真希應援會全力發動，把 JH 推上了近月的高位，質押率也大幅提升。花愛誠的應援會見狀，也不甘落後，把 OS 推了上去。因為今天不是勝負對決，我們覺得相得益彰是好事。從外界看來，也只是平常的粉絲反應，不覺有異常的操作。

演出舞台是哈帝斯娛樂企業的場館，可容八千人，觀眾全部是雙方應援會的會員。綵排的時候，大老闆哈帝斯也在場，完成後走上台跟兩位偶像聊了幾句。我們 V Label 是哈帝斯娛樂的子公司，所以哈帝斯也是 Virgo 的大老闆。微微發胖的哈帝斯像個慈父一樣搭著愛誠的肩，又一直握著真幾的手，說了些鼓勵的話。我通過真幾身上的監察功能，感應到哈帝斯的手傳來了強大的心能。這對一個普通（就算是極其成功的）商人來說，有點不尋常。但我無法獲得更多資訊。我和哈帝斯接觸機會不多，印象中沒有握過手，只是點頭招呼而已。我也沒有試過讀他的心。我把這個觀察特別標記下來。

雙方應援會的幹事也出席了綵排，真幾跟波琴和其他幹事會成員親密地聊天，另一邊廂愛誠也被熱情的應援會成員包圍。那邊的會長是一個叫做杜馬的女生，年紀二十歲上下，戴著眼鏡，紥著雙辮子，刻意打扮得比較平凡，但資質其實跟偶像不相上下。外間也有謠傳杜馬跟愛誠有甚麼秘密關係，但無法證實，杜馬看來也有厲害的手腕，在如此不利傳言下依然能穩坐會長的位置，受到粉絲們的信任。

在應援會退場的時候，杜馬刻意跑到真幾面前跟她握手，說：見到真希姐真好！我是愛誠的頭號粉絲杜馬！請姊姊好好照顧弟弟啊！杜馬明明掛著甜美的笑容，但說話卻有點示威的意味，說罷又立即一溜煙似地跑掉了。

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