In order to survive
(Originally published in the 10th issue of "Science Fiction World" in 1998, author: Han Nan)
This is an old Japanese fable-a lazy snake is extremely hungry, but can't find food, so it ate it Own tail. Later, when it felt hungry again, it quickly made a decision to eat the lower half of itself. When he was hungry again, he ate his upper body... just like that, he ate himself whole.
I used to think that this fable was just talking about laziness, and it was as untrue as a fairy tale.
Everything was due to an unfortunate accident. Now, I can only guard the radio station on this red planet alone, waiting for rescue in four months.
In fact, I should be thankful for my good luck, at least there is no bad weather here, and sufficient oxygen will not let me suffocate. But there was a dead silence around me, and I knew at a glance that I couldn't find any food here. My current mission is simple and clear: find food and live until the rescue ship arrives.
I only have a pitiful little bit of dry food, an old favorite revolver-if I can't use it to hunt, at least I can use it to kill myself, a cloning machine and some high-energy fuel. Although high-energy fuel can't be eaten as a meal, at least it can be used to build a fire for heating, or to grill food-although I don't have food. A cloneable machine, although it is intact, if you give it high-energy fuel and put a little bit of my skin on it, it will jump out of thin air, but I am not in a hurry to copy a "me" to talk to me and share it. I have so little dry food. The most annoying thing is that dry food cannot be cloned!
I need energy to sustain my life. Here, I only need to find food for four months. But what an unreachable wish this is...
A few days later, I sat on the ground stupidly and consumed as little energy as possible. I had eaten the dry food. Well, when there is no food, a man can support for seven days. I grabbed that gorgeous pistol and used half of my mind to think about suicide or starvation. The other half of my mind continued to consider the source of food, even though I had been thinking about it for a few days and I had no idea. , But still like a drowning person trying to grab a straw. Now, the feeling of hunger is devouring me, and I am already thinking about eating my own arm.
High-energy fuel is also broken down into light and heat in the furnace. Looking at the warm flame in despair, I couldn't help thinking about it. A thought flashed like a flash of light: The clone is my hope. I was so excited that I turned the feeling of hunger into motivation, acted immediately, and worked hard to survive... It was
not until the meat in the cloning machine took shape that I realized that the piece of meat that made me salivate was a fetus. Actually , He is me!
Of course, what I subconsciously put in is my epidermis. But he is me. In a few hours, he will be as big as me, with the same way of thinking and face as me, as well as my memories. He will come out of the cloning machine and serve as my food for many days to come. I'm scared. I can't face such a cruel reality, but I don't have the courage to stop cloning. He is my hope of survival. I know that if it is to last for four months, this process will not only take place once, and it is impossible for me to eat for four months with one copy. I am at a loss between hope and fear.
Time slipped away quietly as I struggled with my self-blame and desire. During these few hours, I played with pistols, thinking about my choice of "survival or death". I gave myself many reasons to live: He is just a form of energy. Since energy becomes a chicken or pig, I will eat it without hesitation, so why can’t I eat people who are also energy products?
Finally, I had to face him, and then I realized that all my reasons were so weak in front of him. What can I do, first reason with him and convince him to be my lunch? No. I was ready to shoot him without saying a word. I thought I would feel more at ease.
However, he spoke first.
He seemed like I was still eating all day long, with a malicious smile on his face, he walked leisurely over: "I know what you want to do. Do you want me not to hate you? Of course, I know you have no choice." I'm really moved. "Of course, I was cloned. I was born after you. You have a gun in your hand, so I made lunch instead of you. By the way, don’t forget to fill my intestines with meat to make sausages. It’s not easy. Deterioration." He said gleefully, as if everything had nothing to do with him. This bastard, he knows the weakness of my soul best. He knows that his words will always be engraved in my heart and become the nightmare of my life.
There was a vicious smile in his eyes. I start to hate him, he should be the victim, and I will be the murderer. He has determined to use the last chance to deepen my pain, which is my usual style. I hope he can taste the pain, even at the cost of my life. So I decided.
I try to keep my emotions stable: "You see, we are really exactly the same, so we should have the same chance." He was silent. "We should all have a chance to live." I knew he couldn't refuse, "Come on, let's bet on it." I grabbed the pistol, stuffed a bullet, and dialed the wheel. This is an ancient and cruel gambling. Within six shots at most, a bullet will penetrate the head of one of us, turning one of us into a corpse, a piece of meat, and a pile of food. The one who survives will suffer pain under the conscience and human nature, gnawing on the bones of "own", and drinking the blood of "own". In fact, I don't know which one has a better ending.
He smiled bitterly: "Well, you know I can't refuse." He walked over and picked up the gun. We looked at each other, and our hearts seemed to have experienced a lot of vicissitudes in an instant. "I'll come first, after all I am a clone." He held his pistol against his temple. Really, none of us know when the first shot will happen or whose head it will fall on; but we all know that one of us must die. Death may be the first shot...
He suddenly remembered that there is no last word, and said: "If I die, don't be afraid, I won't blame you. Eat it, everything is to survive." I replied: " If it's me, don't waste it!" We all laughed, but tears also shed...
Perhaps, a good story does not necessarily need an ending, but I hope the story is complete.
When four months have passed, I can't remember how many times I gambled like this, and I don't know if I am the original me. All I know is that there are many "me" remains buried in a few simple mounds outside. I only know that at first I had a small chance of surviving in "gambling", because I escaped once and waited for the second time. I only know that everything in order to survive is the faith that I engraved in my heart.
In the distance, there was the roar of the rescue spacecraft.
A nightmare is finally over, but I know that another eternal nightmare has just begun...
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