同章对照

When Vulcan said she had a second spot in her cockpit, Ryan thought he would have his own baby seat at the back. But as it turned out, the Genius was more fond of motorcycle designs than cars.

“People are gonna talk,” Ryan said, holding Vulcan by the waist with his chest against her back as the mech accelerated. The crazy woman had designed her cockpit like a motorbike, with screens and computer interfaces at the front. The bench seat did allow for two people inside, but Ryan had to lean on the pilot due to a lack of space.

If outsiders could watch them, they would probably find their current positions suspicious.

“Let them,” Vulcan replied. Due to the oceanic pressure, the mech had entered some sort of alternate mode to protect its weaker parts, contracting its joints, shielding the cameras, and using only sonars and thermal sensors for navigation. From outside, the armor must have looked like a bulky lump of metal. “I don’t give a shit.”

“Interesting choice of design though,” Ryan said, hearing the faint noise of the fusion reaction powering the suit. “Was that a personal preference or—”

“Dynamis’ elite soldiers are trained to target the center of mass,” Vulcan cut him off. Ryan had noticed that she was very fond of lording over her knowledge whenever the occasion presented itself. “Since most armor cockpits are located there, this means enemies usually shoot straight at your vitals in a fight. I used to overcompensate for that with thicker shielding, but that’s pretty limited when you fight someone who can bench press tanks.”

“Ah, I get it,” Ryan realized, as he felt the mech slow down. “With your current design, the cockpit is actually located between the shoulders, thus away from the area where most soldiers shoot at. This improves the chances of successful ejection in a pinch, but you must also cut down cockpit space to avoid making the frame unwieldy.”

“I use a neural interface to control most of the systems,” she replied, briefly putting a hand in her hair; Ryan noticed some kind of black cranial implant hidden below her bun. “This removes the need for systems in the cockpit, except emergency ones.”

Oh, so that explained how she could command her suit from afar. Ryan wondered about her range. “I suppose it’s an even trade in exchange for the close, uncomfortable physical proximity.”

“If you use your hands to feel me up, I’ll castrate you,” she warned him. “I can already feel your cock in my back. Gee, when you said you were easy, you weren’t kidding.”

“You don’t want me to upgrade the difficulty to hard mode right now.”

Vulcan chuckled at the dirty wordplay. Ryan couldn’t believe it, but the violent Genius was quite lovely when nobody threatened her fragile ego. “You’re fucking shameless,” she said. “And here I thought you loved that girl though.”

“I loved her once, yes,” Ryan admitted. “But that was a long, long time ago.”

Well, his devotion to Len had never wavered through the years, but Ryan no longer desired her romantically; he had been in romantic relationships in the past, all erased by time. At this point, the courier could settle for a friend, even an acquaintance who could recognize him. Someone with whom he could have a connection that would survive his endless travels across time, no matter how fragile.

All Ryan wanted was someone who could alleviate his loneliness. No more, no less.

The courier sighed. Moving kilometers below the sea gave him the blues. “Are we there yet?”

“Are you going to ask this every minute?”

“Yes, until we are there.”

“If you ask it again, you can say goodbye to another A-place,” she replied.

“Are you coming on to me?”

The Genius ignored him, the mech shaking. Ryan guessed that they must have landed somewhere. “Are we,” he started, Vulcan glaring at him over her shoulder, “friends yet?”

“You must have a death wish,” the Genius said, the cockpit’s ceiling shifting. “And as a matter of fact… we’re here.”

About time.

A hatch opened above the courier, alongside a mini-ladder. Ryan could see a red lamp outside the metal suit, enshrined inside a rusted ceiling, but little else.

“I’ll be waiting here, working on other stuff,” Vulcan said, as Ryan started climbing out of the cockpit. “Since you guys need some time alone. Just don’t take too long, or I’ll leave without you.”

“You would leave a major investment stranded miles below the sea?” Ryan mused, before nodding at the Genius. “Thanks.”

“You did your job, I did mine. I ain’t a fink, Ryan.”

“Well, I certainly appreciate a woman of her word.” It saddened Ryan a little since he might bypass all these fetch quests in the future, depending on how things turned out now. He would have to find a way to balance the scales.

The courier climbed out of the mech, standing atop the suit.

The room looked like an airlock, albeit one big enough to house something as large as Vulcan’s suit; walls of steel surrounded Ryan, thick enough to withstand the undersea pressure outside. Vulcan’s machine stood with its boots in a puddle of water, enormous closed gates at the back, a smaller human-sized door at the front. While a lamp provided a dim crimson light, Ryan didn’t notice any camera.

“Shortie?” he asked, before leaping off the mech and onto the puddle. When he received no answer, he moved towards the smaller door. No sooner did he approach it, that he heard a sound coming from behind. The gate opened on its own, spurred on by an automatic mechanism.

Carefully, Ryan stepped out of the undersea airlock, and into an apartment.

Well, it looked like an apartment, albeit one sparsely furnished. It was around fifty meters square, including a main resting room, a small kitchen, and doors leading to what Ryan assumed to be a bedroom and bathroom. The walls were painted blue and red, her favorite colors.

The whole place smelled of her presence.

“Where’s that Jamaican crab to sing a song when you need him?” Ryan whistled to himself, finding this place too silent for his liking. Yet he didn’t see any stereo nearby.

The courier moved towards the kitchen, noticing a fridge. When he opened it, Ryan found an assortment of tasty dishes straight from the sea: crabs, fishes, algae… a tube seemed to provide the food from another part of the complex. The courier tested the sink next; it worked perfectly, but clearly hadn’t been used much lately.

“Shortie, where are you?” Ryan then wandered towards the main resting room, made of a sofa and a plastic table. Instead of a TV, the main room’s sofa faced a massive porthole allowing sitters to see the world outside; namely, an undersea abyss as dark as the blackest night. Strange fish looked on the other side of the reinforced glass, perhaps curious or attracted by the strange house’s warmth.

The courier noticed a pile of books on the table, including Vingt Mille Lieues sous les mers—the exact same book Len found in Venezia all those years before—alongside Karl Marx’s compiled Das Kapital, and Hegel’s Elements of the Philosophy of Right.

Some things never changed.

However, much to his alarm, the courier also noticed a large amount of medications next to that mini-library. Ryan quickly analyzed them, identifying the products as Dynamis-made antidepressants and anxiolytics. Powerful ones too.

Ryan didn’t know Len's self-medication treatment details, but it was clearly unhealthy.

As the courier walked in front of the porthole and peeked through, he noticed other sources of light in the darkness. On a closer look, they came from other portholes in sphere-shaped structures, an egg nest at the very bottom of the abyss. A complex set of corridors linked the structures together, forming a vast community.

Did Len build that? Certainly not in six months, even with Vulcan’s help and funding. She must have spent at least a year slowly building this place, going to New Rome when she needed specific technology she couldn’t manufacture herself. If each habitat was a self-sufficient apartment, then there was enough space to house hundreds of people.

Silly Len, she was building her own undersea Khrushchyovka!

But still, this place felt like it lacked a soul.

There was no personal touch, no warmth to it. All the accommodations were utilitarian, meant to cover a human being’s basic needs without any aestheticism whatsoever. Besides the books, Ryan didn’t notice any source of entertainment or even a photo. This place was a brightly colored undersea tomb, nothing more.

He heard another door open behind him, perhaps the bedroom’s one.

She didn’t make a sound at first, yet he could sense her eyes peering at his back. She didn’t dare say anything, so Ryan broke the ice.

“Hi Shortie,” the courier said, looking over his shoulder. “It’s been way too long.”

It was her.

She was… she was both so familiar, and yet so different. But it was her, unmistakably her. She wore a brown diving suit, albeit not the towering armor as in the last loop, alongside some kind of water rifle.

Len had had a growth spurt since the four years they last met, although she was still small enough for him to tease her. Her teenage cuteness had blossomed into a true beauty, albeit one lessened by exhaustion and the pale complexion of her skin. She clearly didn’t go out often enough.

They both needed to take a vacation.

“Riri,” Len smiled, but it was more sadness than joy. Her voice was music to Ryan’s ears, yet she sounded so weak and anxious.

It had been so long since he had heard that nickname, that the courier had almost forgotten it. It awakened old emotions he had long since buried through decades of time-looping. Happiness, and sadness too; she looked so terrible, her eyes blackened by tiredness and antidepressants, that it made Ryan feel guilty not to have found her before. It was his job to make her happy, and she clearly wasn’t.

Ryan fully turned around to hug his oldest friend, but she took a step back when she saw him move from his spot. He froze in place, confused, while the sofa stood between them like an insurmountable barrier.

“Don’t… don’t come closer,” Len pleaded, a hand on her water rifle. She wasn’t pointing it at him, but she didn’t set it aside either. "Please."

“Shortie, what’s wrong?” Ryan asked. This wasn’t the reception he had hoped for, let alone expected. “It’s me. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I know,” she replied. “I know.”

Ryan tensed up at these words. “For how long?”

His best friend looked away, before finally confessing, “Two years.”

Ryan froze, as his reality came crashing down.

He had always refused to entertain the thought, even if… even if deep down, he knew it was the only logical explanation. Ryan had made so many waves across Italy, he thought that if Len was alive, then she would have contacted him. If she didn’t, he believed it meant that she was dead, captured, or in a terrible position.

Ryan never wanted to accept the most likely scenario.

Namely, that she avoided him on purpose.

“Why?” Ryan asked, feeling as if he had been shot in the gut. “Why? Why did you avoid me?”

She didn’t answer immediately, not with her voice; but her body spoke for her. Her trembling hands, her unease in Ryan’s presence...

“You’re…” The courier couldn’t believe it. “You’re afraid of me?”

“No,” she said. “It’s just… your presence.”

“You have PTSD,” Ryan recognized the symptoms, glancing at the pile of medications. Suddenly, it all started to make sense. “I remind you of the bad days. I remind you of Bloodstream. I’m… I’m an open wound.”

“Riri, your power,” Len shook her head, “it’s done something to your mind. I can see it. You’re not… you’re not stable. Your behavior, it’s… it’s not that of a sane person.”

“Len, I’m not insane,” Ryan protested. “I just get the joke.”

“You don’t get anything,” she accused the courier. “You never did.”

“I—”

“You killed him.”

The words echoed across the undersea habitat, an awkward silence settling in.

“You led the Carnival to us,” Len accused him. “You didn’t pull the trigger, but you brought the gun.”

“I did,” Ryan admitted. He had an eternity to ponder his choice. “And it had to be done. My only regret is that it separated us for years.”

More silence. Len had never been good at articulating her feelings, but all these years had only worsened her social skills. He wondered if she had any people to talk to.

“Len,” the courier said. “Your father was never going to get better, and one day, he would have killed you. He almost did. I spent years studying the nature of Genomes, trying to find a solution to the Psycho condition; see if I could have made it right. But there is no cure. Or at least none I could design with the means at hand.”

Even Ryan, for all his power over time and causality, hadn’t dared take two Elixirs; for powers worked on a level far greater than mere gene manipulation. Another Elixir would cause his original power to mutate, maybe create another save point or permanently leave him mad. If Ryan ever became a Psycho like Bloodstream... with his save point, no one would be able to stop him. It would be an unending nightmare, for himself and countless others.

“I know,” Len admitted. “I know. But he was still my dad. That wasn’t your choice to make.”

Ryan put his hands behind his back, studying her for a moment. Then, he removed his hat and mask, so she could see his true face. The gnawing unhappiness beneath the smile.

“I apologize,” Ryan said, and he meant it. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Len looked into his eyes, and then glanced away, unable to hold his gaze.

The sight hurt way worse than Acid Rain’s knives.

He bore witness to the end of his main quest, and it wasn’t a happy ending.

“Why did you make this place?” Ryan asked, glancing at the habitat. Perhaps there was something he had overlooked, a detail that could let him salvage their friendship.

“For me,” she said. “Then for others.”

“The orphans above,” Ryan guessed. “That’s what this place is for.”

“Yes,” she said, looking at the distant lights through the porthole. “I want to bring them here when it’s finished. Give them a place where they can belong, begin again. Make it right.”

“Len, you can’t retreat from the world, even if it’s harsh and absurd,” Ryan said. “Or else you will lose part of yourself too. Look at you, you’re… you’re miserable, Len. You're not happy living like this.”

“Riri, there’s nothing above for them, or for me,” Len argued. “There’s just violence and Psychos and powerful bastards kicking down the little guy. I thought the bombs had wiped the slate clean, but more than a decade afterward… it’s more of the same.”

“If that’s how you feel, then let’s make it better,” Ryan said. “I can help. I’ve got all the time in the universe to fix it. I can make everything right.”

“I am already… I’m already fixing it. I’m making a new, better place. A place where everyone is equal.”

“No, you’re running away from your problems, just as I did,” Ryan argued. “The medications are dulling the pain, but they won’t make it go away. No matter how many times you repeat the same process, the outcome won’t change. Neither will this place help you. It’s sunken. You’re literally sinking, Len.”

He extended a hand.

“Let me help you,” the courier asked her, begged her. “Once, you wanted to explore the world. We can do it. Travel together, and look beyond the horizon. There’s still so much to do, so much to learn. I’ve seen things you can’t even imagine. I can show them to you. We can start over.”

Len looked at his fingers, and for long, agonizing seconds, she looked tempted to take his hand. If only she would… then their days of loneliness would finally end.

But she didn’t take it, held back by her own fears.

Crushed at the sight, Ryan realized it wouldn’t do. She was too hurt, too wounded, to take the risk. Their friendship was an old wound she feared might fester again, and sink her deeper below the sea.

He…

He was just making things worse.

“The world is absurd,” Ryan declared. “But it’s not hopeless.”

She frowned at him, confused.

“I’ve faced the same situation over ten thousand iterations, and made a different choice each time,” he explained. “If it was all hopeless, then nothing should have changed. A single man can’t make any difference, right? That’s fatalism for you. Well, fatalists are cowardly crybabies. Every choice I made led to a different outcome. Sometimes it changed little; other times, it changed everything. Sometimes, I killed people, and other times, I saved them.”

“Where… I don’t understand, where are you getting at?”

“That in the end, my decisions changed things,” Ryan said. “Even if I was the only one who could see it. It doesn’t matter if the change is big or small. The change exists. Yes, bad things often happen for no reason... and sometimes good things too. While not guaranteed, justice is attainable. Nobody is in control of anything, but that doesn’t mean your actions have no impact. So please, Len, don’t ever say it’s hopeless. If time-travel has taught me anything, it’s that everything can change, and the perfect ending is always within reach.”

“Time… time-travel?”

Instead of burdening her with his own issues, Ryan put the Quicksave mask and hat back on, then walked towards the hatch’s door. She didn’t make a move to stop him. Even if she seemed to hesitate.

“No matter how bad it gets, Len, I won’t give up on finding happiness,” he said, looking over his shoulder at his old friend. “I hope you don’t either.”

Ryan walked away, his silent steps echoing below the sea.

伏尔甘说驾驶舱里还有个位置时，瑞恩以为后面会有一张专属他的婴儿座椅。结果这位天才比起汽车，显然更偏爱摩托车的设计。

“这会招人闲话的。”机甲加速时，瑞恩搂着伏尔甘的腰，胸口紧贴她的后背。这个疯女人把驾驶舱设计成了摩托车的样式，屏幕和电脑操作界面都在前方。长条座椅确实容得下两个人，但地方太挤，瑞恩不得不贴在驾驶员身上。

要是外人能看见，多半会觉得他们此刻的姿势很可疑。

“让他们说去。”伏尔甘答道。为了承受海水的压力，机甲已经切换到某种替代模式，保护较为脆弱的部位：关节收拢，摄像头遮蔽，仅靠声呐和热传感器导航。从外面看，这副装甲一定像个笨重的金属疙瘩。“老娘才不在乎。”

“不过，这种设计倒挺有意思。”瑞恩说，耳边传来驱动装甲的聚变反应发出的轻微声响。“是个人偏好，还是——”

“迪纳米斯的精锐士兵受过训练，专打目标的质心。”伏尔甘打断了他。瑞恩早就发现，只要一有机会，她就很喜欢拿自己的学识压人一头。“装甲的驾驶舱大多设在那里，所以交战时，敌人通常都是直奔你的要害开枪。以前我会把防护装甲额外加厚，想靠这个来弥补，可要是对手能拿坦克做卧推，这招就很有限了。”

“啊，我懂了。”感觉到机甲减速，瑞恩恍然大悟。“按你现在的设计，驾驶舱其实位于两肩之间，避开了大多数士兵瞄准的区域。这样一来，危急时成功弹射逃生的概率就提高了，但也必须压缩驾驶舱的空间，免得机身太过笨重。”

“大部分系统我都用神经接口控制。”她答道，抬手在头发上摸了一下；瑞恩注意到，她的发髻下藏着某种黑色的颅部植入物。“这样除了应急系统，驾驶舱里就不需要其他系统了。”

哦，难怪她能远程操控装甲。瑞恩有点好奇她的控制范围。“这么说，代价是两个人贴得太近，挤得不舒服，倒也算公平。”

“你要是敢动手乱摸，我就阉了你。”她警告道，“我都能感觉到你的鸡巴顶着我的背了。啧，你说自己很随便，还真没开玩笑。”

“你不会想让我现在把难度升级成硬核模式的。”

伏尔甘被这个荤段子逗笑了。瑞恩简直不敢相信，只要没人威胁到她那脆弱的自尊，这位暴力天才还挺可爱的。“你他妈真不要脸。”她说，“亏我还以为你爱着那个姑娘。”

“我确实爱过她。”瑞恩承认，“不过，那已经是很久很久以前的事了。”

这些年来，他对蕾恩的那份心意从未动摇，但瑞恩早已不再渴望与她成为恋人。他也曾谈过恋爱，只是那些感情全被时间抹去了。到了如今，能有一个朋友，甚至只是一个认得他的熟人，信使就满足了。他想要的，是有那么一个人，与他之间的联系能在这无休无止的时间之旅中留存下来，哪怕再脆弱也好。

瑞恩只想有个人能让自己不再那么孤独。仅此而已。

信使叹了口气。在海面下数千米深的地方前行，实在让他心情低落。“到了没有？”

“你打算每分钟问一遍吗？”

“对，问到我们抵达为止。”

“你要是再问，就等着跟另一个A字头的部位说再见吧。”她答道。

“你这是在勾引我吗？”

天才没理他，机甲晃动起来。瑞恩猜他们应该是落在了什么地方。“我们是不是……”他刚开口，伏尔甘就回头瞪了过来，“已经算朋友了？”

“你真是活腻了。”天才说，驾驶舱的顶部开始移动。“另外，告诉你……我们到了。”

可算到了。

信使头顶的一道舱盖打开了，旁边还带着一架小梯子。瑞恩能看见金属装甲外有一盏红灯，嵌在锈迹斑斑的天花板上，除此之外看不清什么。

瑞恩开始往驾驶舱外爬，伏尔甘说道：“我就在这儿等，忙点别的。你们俩总得单独待一会儿。不过别太久，不然我可不等你了。”

“你舍得把一项重大投资丢在几英里深的海底？”瑞恩打趣道，随后向天才点了点头。“谢谢。”

“你干了你的活，我干我的。我不是言而无信的小人，瑞恩。”

“嗯，我当然欣赏说话算话的女人。”瑞恩有些难过，因为往后视这次的结果而定，他也许会跳过所有这些跑腿任务。他得想个办法，把欠下的人情还上。

信使爬出机甲，站在装甲顶部。

这个房间看起来像一间气闸舱，只不过大得足以容纳伏尔甘装甲这种庞然大物。瑞恩四周都是钢铁墙壁，厚得足以抵御外面的深海水压。伏尔甘的机器双脚踩在一摊积水里，后方是紧闭的巨大闸门，前方则有一道供人通行的小门。一盏灯投下昏暗的深红光芒，瑞恩却没发现任何摄像头。

“小矮个？”他唤了一声，随后从机甲上跳下，落进积水里。没有回应，他便朝那道小门走去。他刚一靠近，就听见后面传来响动。舱门在自动机构的驱动下自行打开了。

瑞恩小心地走出海底气闸舱，踏进了一间公寓。

至少看起来像公寓，只是陈设稀少。面积大约五十平方米，包括一间起居室、一间小厨房，还有几道门，瑞恩猜测通往卧室和浴室。墙壁刷成了蓝色和红色，她最喜欢的两种颜色。

整个地方都透着她的气息。

“需要那只牙买加螃蟹来唱首歌的时候，它跑哪儿去了？”瑞恩自言自语，又吹了声口哨。这地方安静过头了，他不喜欢。可附近也没看到什么音响。

信使走向厨房，发现了一台冰箱。打开后，瑞恩看到里面装着各式直接取自海里的美味：螃蟹、鱼、藻类……似乎有一根管道从这片建筑群的其他区域输送食物。接着，信使试了试水槽；一切运转正常，只是显然最近没怎么用过。

“小矮个，你在哪儿？”瑞恩又踱向起居室，那里只有一张沙发和一张塑料桌。沙发对面没有电视，而是一扇巨大的舷窗，坐在上面的人可以看见外面的世界——也就是一片暗如深沉黑夜的海底深渊。强化玻璃的另一侧，奇形怪状的鱼正往里张望，也许是出于好奇，也许是被这座古怪房屋散发的暖意吸引了。

信使注意到桌上堆着一些书，其中就有《海底两万里》——正是多年前蕾恩在威尼斯找到的那一本——旁边还有卡尔·马克思的《资本论》合订本，以及黑格尔的《法哲学原理》。

有些事永远不会变。

然而，让信使心头一紧的是，这座迷你图书馆旁边还放着大量药物。瑞恩迅速辨认了一番，认出那是迪纳米斯生产的抗抑郁药和抗焦虑药，而且都是强效的。

瑞恩不知道蕾恩自行用药的具体方案，但显然，这并不健康。

信使走到舷窗前向外看去，发现黑暗里还有其他光源。仔细一瞧，光来自其他球形建筑上的舷窗，那些建筑宛如一窝蛋，坐落在深渊的最底部。错综复杂的廊道将它们彼此连通，构成了一个庞大的社区。

这些都是蕾恩建的？就算有伏尔甘出力出钱，也绝不可能在六个月内完成。她一定花了至少一年的时间，才一点点建成这里，需要某种自己造不出的技术时，就去新罗马寻找。如果每一座居住舱都是一间能够自给自足的公寓，这里就足以容纳数百人。

傻蕾恩，她竟然在海底建起了自己的赫鲁晓夫楼！

可即便如此，这地方还是像缺了灵魂。

这里没有个人色彩，也没有温暖。所有设施都只讲求实用，满足一个人最基本的生活需求，毫无美感可言。除了书，瑞恩没看到任何娱乐用品，连一张照片都没有。这地方不过是一座色彩鲜亮的海底坟墓。

他听见身后又有一道门打开了，也许是卧室的门。

起初，她没出声，他却能感觉到她的目光正落在自己背上。她不敢说话，于是瑞恩先打破了沉默。

“嗨，小矮个。”信使回头看去，“真的太久不见了。”

是她。

她……她既如此熟悉，又如此不同。但那就是她，绝不会认错。她穿着一身棕色潜水服，却不是上一轮那副高大的装甲，身上还带着一把水流步枪似的武器。

距他们上次见面已经过了四年，蕾恩长高了不少，虽然依旧矮得足够让他拿来打趣。昔日可爱的少女如今已出落成了真正的美人，只是疲惫与苍白的肤色让这份美丽打了些折扣。她显然太少出门了。

他们俩都需要放个假。

“瑞瑞。”蕾恩笑了，可那笑容里的悲伤比喜悦更多。她的声音在瑞恩耳中宛如天籁，却又听起来那么虚弱，那么不安。

太久没听到这个昵称，信使都快把它忘了。它唤醒了那些早已被数十年的时间循环深深埋藏的旧日情感。有幸福，也有悲伤；她看起来实在太憔悴，疲惫和抗抑郁药让她的眼圈发黑，瑞恩不禁为没能更早找到她而内疚。让她幸福本是他的责任，可她显然并不幸福。

瑞恩彻底转过身，想拥抱这位相识最久的朋友。可她一见他挪步，就向后退了一步。他困惑地僵在原地，沙发横在两人之间，像一道无法逾越的屏障。

“别……别过来。”蕾恩恳求道，一只手按着水流步枪。她没有拿枪指着他，却也没有把枪放到一边。“求你了。”

“小矮个，怎么了？”瑞恩问。这不是他盼望中的重逢，更不在他的预料之内。“是我啊。我一直在到处找你。”

“我知道。”她答道，“我知道。”

这句话让瑞恩浑身绷紧。“你知道多久了？”

他最好的朋友移开目光，最后终于坦白：“两年。”

瑞恩僵住了，他所相信的一切轰然坍塌。

他始终不肯去想这种可能，哪怕……哪怕心底早就知道，这是唯一说得通的解释。瑞恩在意大利各地闹出了那么多动静，他一直以为，只要蕾恩还活着，就会联系他。如果没有，那一定是因为她已经死了、被人抓住了，或是处境糟糕透顶。

瑞恩从来都不愿接受最有可能的那个答案。

她在有意躲着他。

“为什么？”瑞恩问，感觉像是肚子上挨了一枪。“为什么？你为什么要躲我？”

她没有立刻开口回答，可身体已经替她作了答。颤抖的双手，面对瑞恩时的不安……

“你……”信使难以置信。“你怕我？”

“不是。”她说，“只是……你在这里……”

“你有创伤后应激障碍。”瑞恩认出了症状，瞥了一眼那堆药物。突然，一切都有了解释。“我让你想起那些不好的日子。我让你想起血流。我……我是一道没愈合的伤口。”

“瑞瑞，你的能力，”蕾恩摇了摇头，“它影响了你的神志。我看得出来。你不……你的精神不稳定。你的所作所为，那……那不是一个心智健全的人会做的事。”

“蕾恩，我没疯。”瑞恩反驳道，“我只是看懂了这个笑话。”

“你什么也没看懂。”她指责信使，“你从来就没懂过。”

“我——”

“你杀了他。”

这句话在海底居住舱里回荡，令人难堪的沉默随之降临。

“是你把嘉年华引到我们这里来的。”蕾恩指责道，“你没扣扳机，可枪是你带来的。”

“是我。”瑞恩承认。他早已有近乎无尽的时间去反思那个选择。“而且那件事非做不可。我唯一的遗憾，就是它让我们分开了这么多年。”

又是一阵沉默。蕾恩向来不善于表达感受，而这些年过去，她与人交流的能力反倒更差了。他不知道她身边有没有能说说话的人。

“蕾恩，”信使说，“你父亲永远不可能好起来，总有一天，他会杀了你。他差一点就那么做了。我花了多年时间研究基因者的本质，试着找出解决疯魔状态的办法，想看看能不能挽回这一切。可根本没有治愈的方法。至少，凭手头的条件，我找不出办法。”

哪怕瑞恩对时间和因果有如此强大的掌控力，他也不敢服用两剂灵药；因为超能力运作的层次，远远超出了单纯的基因操纵。再喝一剂灵药，会让他原有的能力发生变异，也许会生成另一个存档点，也许会让他永远陷入疯狂。要是瑞恩变成了血流那样的疯魔……有存档点在，就没有人能阻止他。对他自己，对无数其他人，那都将是一场永无止境的噩梦。

“我知道。”蕾恩承认，“我知道。可他仍然是我爸爸。那不是你该替我做的决定。”

瑞恩把双手背在身后，凝视了她片刻。然后，他摘下帽子和面具，让她看见自己真正的脸。看见笑容之下，那不断啃噬着他的痛苦。

“我向你道歉。”瑞恩说，他是真心的。“对不起，我伤害了你。”

蕾恩望进他的眼睛，随即又移开目光，无法继续与他对视。

这一幕带来的痛，远胜于酸雨的刀。

他亲眼见证了自己主线任务的终结，而那并不是一个幸福的结局。

“你为什么建了这个地方？”瑞恩环顾居住舱，问道。也许还有什么是他忽略的，也许某个细节能让他挽救他们的友谊。

“为了我自己。”她说，“后来，是为了别人。”

“上面的那些孤儿。”瑞恩猜道，“这地方就是为他们准备的。”

“是的。”她望着舷窗外远处的灯光，“等这里完工，我想把他们接来。给他们一个归宿，让他们重新开始。把一切变好。”

“蕾恩，你不能躲开这个世界，哪怕它残酷又荒诞。”瑞恩说，“否则，你也会失去一部分自己。看看你，你……你很痛苦，蕾恩。这样活着，你并不快乐。”

“瑞瑞，上面没有什么留给他们，也没有什么留给我。”蕾恩反驳，“那里只有暴力、疯魔，还有仗势欺人的混蛋，专门把小人物踩在脚下。我以为那些炸弹已经把一切清空，可以重新来过，可十多年过去……还是老样子。”

“如果你是这么想的，那我们就把它变好。”瑞恩说，“我能帮忙。我有全宇宙的时间来解决这些问题。我能让一切都好起来。”

“我已经……我已经在解决了。我在创造一个全新的、更好的地方。一个人人平等的地方。”

“不，你是在逃避自己的问题，就像我曾经做的那样。”瑞恩反驳道，“药物能减轻痛苦，却不能让痛苦消失。同样的过程，无论重复多少次，结果也不会改变。这个地方也帮不了你。它沉在水底。你真的是在往下沉，蕾恩。”

他伸出一只手。

“让我帮你吧。”信使请求她，恳求她。“从前，你想去探索世界。我们可以去。一起旅行，去看看地平线以外的天地。还有那么多事可以做，那么多东西可以学。我见过一些你根本无法想象的事物。我可以带你去看。我们可以重新开始。”

蕾恩望着他的手指。在那漫长而煎熬的几秒钟里，她似乎很想握住他的手。只要她愿意……他们孤独的日子就终于可以结束了。

可她没有伸手，自身的恐惧拦住了她。

瑞恩心如死灰，明白这样行不通。她受的伤太深，太重，已经不敢冒险。他们的友谊是一道旧伤，她害怕它再次溃烂，将自己拖向更深的海底。

他……

他只是在让事情变得更糟。

“世界是荒诞的。”瑞恩说道，“但并非毫无希望。”

她困惑地皱眉看着他。

“我在一万多次循环里，面对过同一种局面，每一次都做出了不同的选择。”他解释道，“如果真的毫无希望，那就什么都不该改变。一个人根本改变不了任何事，对吧？这就是宿命论。可宿命论者都是些胆小的爱哭鬼。我做出的每一个选择，都带来了不同的结果。有时候变化很小，有时候，一切都变了。有时候我杀了人，另一些时候，我救了他们。”

“你……我不明白，你到底想说什么？”

“我想说，归根结底，我的决定改变了事情。”瑞恩说，“哪怕只有我自己看得见。改变是大是小并不重要。重要的是，改变确实存在。没错，坏事经常无缘无故地发生……可有时候，好事也一样。正义未必一定到来，但它是可以实现的。谁也掌控不了什么，可这不代表你的所作所为毫无影响。所以，求你了，蕾恩，永远别说没有希望。如果说时间旅行教会了我什么，那就是一切都可以改变，完美的结局永远触手可及。”

“时间……时间旅行？”

瑞恩没有拿自己的问题再给她添负担，而是重新戴上快存的面具和帽子，朝舱门走去。她没有上前阻拦。尽管她似乎犹豫了一下。

“不管事情变得多糟，蕾恩，我都不会放弃寻找幸福。”他回头望着老朋友，说道，“希望你也一样。”

瑞恩离开了，无声的脚步在海底回响。