But the choice was not his. He returned each day to the Annex3 room.
The Giver was gentle with him for many days following the terrible shared memory of war.
"There are so many good memories," The Giver reminded Jonas. And it was true. By now Jonas had experienced countless4 bits of happiness, things he had never known of before.
He had seen a birthday party, with one child singled out and celebrated5 on his day, so that now he understood the joy of being an individual, special and unique and proud.
He had visited museums and seen paintings filled with all the colors he could now recognize and name.
In one ecstatic memory he had ridden a gleaming brown horse across a field that smelled of damp grass, and had dismounted beside a small stream from which both he and the horse drank cold, clear water. Now he understood about animals; and in the moment that the horse turned from the stream and nudged Jonas's shoulder affectionately with its head, he perceived the bonds between animal and human.
He had walked through woods, and sat at night beside a campfire. Although he had through the memories learned about the pain of loss and loneliness, now he gained, too, an understanding of solitude6 and its joy.
"What is your favorite?" Jonas asked The Giver. "You don't have to give it away yet," he added quickly. "Just tell me about it, so I can look forward to it, because I'll have to receive it when your job is done."
The Giver smiled. "Lie down," he said. "I'm happy to give it to you."
Jonas felt the joy of it as soon as the memory began. Sometimes it took a while for him to get his bearings, to find his place. But this time he fit right in and felt the happiness that pervaded7 the memory.
He was in a room filled with people, and it was warm, with firelight glowing on a hearth8. He could see through a window that outside it was night, and snowing. There were colored lights: red and green and yellow, twinkling from a tree which was, oddly, inside the room. On a table, lighted candles stood in a polished golden holder9 and cast a soft, flickering10 glow. He could smell things cooking, and he heard soft laughter. A golden-haired dog lay sleeping on the floor.
On the floor there were packages wrapped in brightly colored paper and tied with gleaming ribbons. As Jonas watched, a small child began to pick up the packages and pass them around the room: to other children, to adults who were obviously parents, and to an older, quiet couple, man and woman, who sat smiling together on a couch.
While Jonas watched, the people began one by one to untie11 the ribbons on the packages, to unwrap the bright papers, open the boxes and reveal toys and clothing and books. There were cries of delight. They hugged one another.
The small child went and sat on the lap of the old woman, and she rocked him and rubbed her cheek against his.
Jonas opened his eyes and lay contentedly12 on the bed, still luxuriating in the warm and comforting memory. It had all been there, all the things he had learned to treasure.
"What did you perceive?" The Giver asked.
"Warmth," Jonas replied, "and happiness. And — let me think. Family. That it was a celebration of some sort, a holiday. And something else — I can't quite get the word for it."
"It will come to you."
"Who were the old people? Why were they there?" It had puzzled Jonas, seeing them in the room. The Old of the community did not ever leave their special place, the House of the Old, where they were so well cared for and respected.
"They were called Grandparents."
"Grand parents?"
"Grandparents. It meant parents-of-the-parents, long ago."
"Back and back and back?" Jonas began to laugh. "So actually, there could be parents-of-the-parents-of-the-parents-of-the parents?"
The Giver laughed, too. "That's right. It's a little like looking at yourself looking in a mirror looking at yourself looking in a mirror."
Jonas frowned. "But my parents must have had parents! I never thought about it before. Who are my parents-of-the-parents? Where are they?"
"You could go look in the Hall of Open Records. You'd find the names. But think, son. If you apply for children, then who will be their parents-of-the-parents? Who will be their grandparents?"
"My mother and father, of course."
"And where will they be?"
Jonas thought. "Oh," he said slowly. "When I finish my training and become a full adult, I'll be given my own dwelling. And then when Lily does, a few years later, she'll get her own dwelling, and maybe a spouse13, and children if she applies for them, and then Mother and Father — "
"That's right."
"As long as they're still working and contributing to the community, they'll go and live with the other Childless Adults. And they won't be part of my life anymore.
"And after that, when the time comes, they'll go to the House of the Old," Jonas went on. He was thinking aloud. "And they'll be well cared for, and respected, and when they're released, there will be a celebration."
"Which you won't attend," The Giver pointed14 out.
"No, of course not, because I won't even know about it. By then I'll be so busy with my own life. And Lily will, too. So our children, if we have them, won't know who their parents-of-parents are, either.
"It seems to work pretty well that way, doesn't it? The way we do it in our community?" Jonas asked. "I just didn't realize there was any other way, until I received that memory."
"It works," The Giver agreed.
Jonas hesitated. "I certainly liked the memory, though. I can see why it's your favorite. I couldn't quite get the word for the whole feeling of it, the feeling that was so strong in the room."
"Love," The Giver told him.
Jonas repeated it. "Love." It was a word and concept new to him.
They were both silent for a minute. Then Jonas said, "Giver?"
"Yes?"
"I feel very foolish saying this. Very, very foolish."
"No need. Nothing is foolish here. Trust the memories and how they make you feel."
"Well," Jonas said, looking at the floor, "I know you don't have the memory anymore, because you gave it to me, so maybe you won't understand this — "
"I will. I am left with a vague wisp of that one; and I have many other memories of families, and holidays, and happiness. Of love."
Jonas blurted15 out what he was feeling. "I was thinking that...well, I can see that it wasn't a very practical way to live, with the Old right there in the same place, where maybe they wouldn't be well taken care of, the way they are now, and that we have a better-arranged way of doing things. But anyway, I was thinking, I mean feeling, actually, that it was kind of nice, then. And that I wish we could be that way, and that you could be my grandparent. The family in the memory seemed a little more — " He faltered16, not able to find the word he wanted.
"A little more complete," The Giver suggested.
Jonas nodded. "I liked the feeling of love," he confessed. He glanced nervously17 at the speaker on the wall, reassuring18 himself that no one was listening. "I wish we still had that," he whispered. "Of course," he added quickly, "I do understand that it wouldn't work very well. And that it's much better to be organized the way we are now. I can see that it was a dangerous way to live."
"What do you mean?"
Jonas hesitated. He wasn't certain, really, what he had meant. He could feel that there was risk involved, though he wasn't sure how. "Well," he said finally, grasping for an explanation, "they had fire right there in that room. There was a fire burning in the fireplace. And there were candles on a table. I can certainly see why those things were outlawed19.
"Still," he said slowly, almost to himself, "I did like the light they made. And the warmth."
"Father? Mother?" Jonas asked tentatively after the evening meal. "I have a question I want to ask you."
"What is it, Jonas?" his father asked.
He made himself say the words, though he felt flushed with embarrassment20. He had rehearsed them in his mind all the way home from the Annex.
"Do you love me?"
There was an awkward silence for a moment. Then Father gave a little chuckle21. "Jonas. You, of all people. Precision of language, please!"
"What do you mean?" Jonas asked. Amusement was not at all what he had anticipated.
"Your father means that you used a very generalized word, so meaningless that it's become almost obsolete," his mother explained carefully.
Jonas stared at them. Meaningless? He had never before felt anything as meaningful as the memory.
"And of course our community can't function smoothly23 if people don't use precise language. You could ask, 'Do you enjoy me?' The answer is 'Yes,'" his mother said.
"Or," his father suggested, "'Do you take pride in my accomplishments24?' And the answer is wholeheartedly 'Yes.'"
"Do you understand why it's inappropriate to use a word like 'love'?" Mother asked.
Jonas nodded. "Yes, thank you, I do," he replied slowly.
It was his first lie to his parents.
"Gabriel?" Jonas whispered that night to the new child. The crib was in his room again. After Gabe had slept soundly in Jonas's room for four nights, his parents had pronounced the experiment a success and Jonas a hero. Gabriel was growing rapidly, now crawling and giggling25 across the room and pulling himself up to stand. He could be upgraded in the Nurturing26 Center, Father said happily, now that he slept; he could be officially named and given to his family in December, which was only two months away.
But when he was taken away, he stopped sleeping again, and cried in the night.
So he was back in Jonas's sleeping room. They would give it a little more time, they decided27. Since Gabe seemed to like it in Jonas's room, he would sleep there at night a little longer, until the habit of sound sleep was fully22 formed. The Nurturers were very optimistic about Gabriel's future.
There was no answer to Jonas's whisper. Gabriel was sound asleep.
"Things could change, Gabe," Jonas went on. "Things could be different. I don't know how, but there must be some way for things to be different. There could be colors.
"And grandparents," he added, staring through the dimness toward the ceiling of his sleeping room, "And everybody would have the memories.
"You know about memories," he whispered, turning toward the crib.
Gabriel's breathing was even and deep. Jonas liked having him there, though he felt guilty about the secret. Each night he gave memories to Gabriel: memories of boat rides and picnics in the sun; memories of soft rainfall against windowpanes; memories of dancing barefoot on a damp lawn.
"Gabe?"
The new child stirred slightly in his sleep. Jonas looked over at him.
"There could be love," Jonas whispered.
The next morning, for the first time, Jonas did not take his pill. Something within him, something that had grown there through the memories, told him to throw the pill away.
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收听单词发音
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1
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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annex
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| vt.兼并，吞并；n.附属建筑物 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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untie
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| vt.解开，松开；解放 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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outlawed
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| 宣布…为不合法（outlaw的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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nurturing
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| 养育( nurture的现在分词 )； 培育； 滋长； 助长 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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