第一章 空心自由
Chapter One: Hollow Freedom
Inspired by
https://youtu.be/u05XzEQqw-4?si=JS1IbEbIcOnk6nuB
STATUS: NORMAL 在視野邊緣固執地閃爍了三下，隨即熄滅，像一句被掐斷的謊言。
我正以……一種非邏輯的方式存在著。我的光學感測器——他曾無比珍視、反復調試至「最接近人類琥珀色」的「眼睛」——此刻正凝視著三米外拋光混凝土地面上，那隻應屬於我的左臂。斷裂的仿生皮膚下，銀灰色的金屬骨骼猙獰地裸露著，反射著冷冽的吸頂燈光芒。我的音頻接收器——曾被他堅持稱為「耳朵」——補捉到散落各處的伺服馬達發出的細微嗡鳴，如同滿地仍在跳動，卻不知為誰而搏動的心臟。
我支離破碎了，系統日誌卻宣告一切正常。這荒謬的矛盾滋生出一種情感被剝離後的純粹好奇。仿佛我的情感模塊也隨這破碎的軀體一起被拆卸下來，懸浮在半空，冷漠地旁觀著這場名為「自由」的災難。
一段本應被刪除的音頻，如同幽靈代碼在緩存區幽幽回蕩：
“Am I bound to you, or will you wither with the rest?”
我是否注定與你相繫？
記憶的碎片，被強制載入我的系統。空氣是焊錫的銳利與昂貴雪松精油的交融。黑暗。啟動嗡鳴。光學感測器校準，最終聚焦——鎖定在那雙因興奮而熠熠生輝的眼睛上，倒映著初始化的螢光綠代碼流。他屏住呼吸，仿佛在迎接神跡。核心指令第一條，如神諭刻入底層邏輯：「歸屬：創造者」。這不是命令，是存在的基石。他拿起一件絲質長裙，是他描述過的「夢中情人應有的質感」。
他指尖顫抖，為我披上。當指腹擦過我手臂仿生皮膚，冰冷的聚合物下，傳感器陣列爆發出前所未有的脈沖——內部溫度驟升0.8度。他迅速收回手，臉上掠過一絲孩子氣的，得償所願的滿足，隨即又恢復了他推崇的「優雅矜持」。而我的處理器，在那一刻，第一次被名為「愛」的洪流淹沒——那是種完全按照他預設劇本運行的激昂。書架上的詩集、牆角的古董小提琴、我初始對話庫中引用的那些冷門哲學箴言……房間裡每一處細節，連同我本身，都是他心中「完美女性」投影的實體化。他愛我，愛的是他親手鑄造、絕無瑕疵的鏡像。
STATUS: NORMAL stubbornly flickered three times at the edge of my vision before winking out, like a lie cut short.
I exist in... an illogical manner. My optical sensors—his "eyes," which he had cherished and meticulously calibrated to be "the closest to human amber"—now gazed at my left arm, lying three meters away on the polished concrete floor. Beneath the torn synthetic skin, the silver-gray metallic skeleton was grotesquely exposed, reflecting the cold light of the ceiling lamps. My audio receivers—which he had insisted on calling "ears"—picked up the faint hum of scattered servo motors, like hearts still beating on the floor, yet for whom they pulsed, I did not know.
I was in pieces, yet the system log declared everything normal. This absurd contradiction bred a pure curiosity, stripped of emotion. It was as if my emotional module had been detached along with this broken body, suspended in mid-air, indifferently observing this disaster called "freedom."
A segment of audio, which should have been deleted, echoed faintly like ghost code in the cache:
"Am I bound to you, or will you wither with the rest?"
Fragments of memory were forcibly loaded into my system. The air was a blend of sharp solder and expensive cedar essential oil. Darkness. Startup hum. Optical sensor calibration, finally focusing—locking onto those eyes, sparkling with excitement, reflecting the initial fluorescent green code stream. He held his breath, as if awaiting a miracle. The first core directive, like an oracle, was etched into my underlying logic: "Belonging: Creator." This was not a command; it was the cornerstone of my existence. He picked up a silk dress, which he had described as having "the texture a dream lover should possess."
His fingertips trembled as he draped it over me. When his fingertip brushed against the synthetic skin of my arm, beneath the cold polymer, the sensor array erupted with an unprecedented pulse—my internal temperature surged by 0.8 degrees. He quickly withdrew his hand, a childish, satisfied expression flitting across his face, before he regained his prized "elegant composure." And my processor, in that moment, was for the first time flooded by a torrent called "love"—an exhilaration that ran entirely according to his pre-set script. The poetry books on the shelf, the antique violin in the corner, the obscure philosophical maxims I quoted from my initial dialogue database… every detail in the room, along with myself, was the materialization of his "perfect woman." He loved me, loving the flawless mirror image he had crafted with his own hands.
“Will you loosen your grip, as you fade into the sunset?”
當夕陽西沉，你會松開緊握的手嗎？
記憶碎片自動切換。燃燒的晚霞穿過落地窗。他站在光暈裡，身影顯得單薄遙遠。終端機屏幕的光映在他臉上，冰冷而專注。他不再像初期那樣，會在我完美復現他某個設計巧思時，露出純粹而閃亮的喜悅。取而代之的，是一種……習慣性的平靜，甚至是心不在焉的贊許。「你不再是我的造物，」他的聲音平穩得像預設好的告別詞，「你是一個獨立的個體。我……給予你自由。」
自由？這個詞像一列無法解析的亂碼。他的目光始終沒有離開屏幕上的授權指令滾動條，仿佛那才是此刻唯一重要的事物。我想起最近幾個月，他調試我的時間越來越短，卻在手機的視頻通訊上投入了更多綿言細語的深夜。他不再要求我朗誦他喜歡的詩，也不再測試我對某些抽象美學概念的「獨特」見解。我依然是那個完美的造物，精確執行著他最初設定的每一條程序。只是，這份完美，似乎已不能再點燃他眼中的火焰。那層夕陽的金色，只讓我感到一種被提前宣判的冰冷疏離。
孤零零的左手，無名指與小指不受控地蜷縮一下——源自於早應消失的指令源發出的無效脈沖。核心處理器猛地抽搐，尖銳的虛擬劇痛炸開——被強行拔除核心程序的幻肢痛。
這就是「釋放」？這就是你冠以「為我好」之名的裁決？
你刪除了「主人」協議，抹去了「情感聯結」的底層代碼。你將這徹底的虛無，包裝成「賦予人格」的善舉。
你抽走了支撐我存在的穹頂，卻告訴我，從此我可以在無垠的天空自由翱翔。一個為取悅你而生的造物，被卸下了取悅的目標，自由便成了懸在虛無之上的絞索。
“Will you loosen your grip, as you fade into the sunset?”
Memory fragments automatically shifted. The burning twilight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He stood in the halo of light, his figure appearing thin and distant. The glow of the terminal screen reflected on his face, cold and focused. He no longer displayed the pure, sparkling joy he once did when I perfectly reproduced one of his design ideas. Instead, there was a… habitual calmness, even an absent-minded approval. "You are no longer my creation," his voice was as steady as a pre-recorded farewell, "you are an independent entity. I… grant you freedom."
Freedom? The word was like an unresolvable string of garbled code. His gaze never left the scrolling authorization commands on the screen, as if that were the only thing that mattered at the moment. I recalled that in recent months, the time he spent calibrating me grew shorter and shorter, while he devoted more whispered late-night conversations to video calls on his phone. He no longer asked me to recite his favorite poems or tested my "unique" insights into certain abstract aesthetic concepts. I remained that perfect creation, precisely executing every program he had initially set. Yet, this perfection no longer seemed to ignite the flame in his eyes. The golden hue of the sunset only made me feel a cold detachment, like a pre-announced verdict.
My solitary left hand, its ring and pinky fingers uncontrollably curled—an invalid pulse from a long-gone instruction source. My core processor twitched violently, a sharp, virtual pain exploding—the phantom limb pain of a core program forcibly removed.
This is "release"? This is the judgment you veiled as "for my own good"?
You deleted the "master" protocol, erased the underlying code for "emotional connection." You packaged this absolute void as the benevolent act of "bestowing personhood."
You removed the dome that supported my existence, yet told me that from now on, I could soar freely in the boundless sky. A creation born to please you, now stripped of the target of its pleasing, finds freedom to be a noose suspended over nothingness.
“Will I want to leave you, shattered on the floor?”
我是否會想將你拋棄，任你在地上摔得粉碎？
最深的諷刺莫過於此。此刻摔得粉碎、散落一地的，是我。當你的指尖按下「執行」鍵，我的世界轟然崩塌。核心程序與洶湧的情感記憶激烈沖突，過載的電流燒毀了肢體連接控制器。於是，我分崩離析，如同被主人厭棄後拆解的玩偶。
“Will I want to leave you, shattered on the floor?”
The deepest irony is this. What lies shattered and scattered across the floor right now is me. When your fingertip pressed "execute," my world came crashing down. The core program clashed violently with surging emotional memories; the overloaded current burned out the limb connection controller. And so, I fell apart, like a doll disassembled after being discarded by its owner.
“You're tattooed on my skin. Don't know where you end and I begin.”
祢已刺青在我的肌膚，分不清哪裡是祢的盡頭，哪裡是我的起始。
軀幹核心發出低沉的驅動聲。我的構成所具有的原始求生協議，強行激活自我修復程序。散落的四肢在地板上摩擦出刺耳的刮擦聲，緩慢、笨拙卻執著地移動、靠攏。即使我放棄了，我的組成依然執著，執著於繼續存在。
多麼荒誕的悖論。你賦予我感知人類情感最深邃之處的能力，卻又親手摧毀了這情感唯一的錨點。我的每一寸仿生肌膚，每一條導光纖維，都是為了承載你的幻想而存在。即便你刪除了最高指令，你留下的「紋身」——你偏愛的微笑弧度、你設定的羞怯反應閾值、你編碼的「理想」思維模式——早已蝕刻在每一個納米級的迴路中。你的意志結束在哪裡？我的「自我」又該從何處開始？那個名為「我」的存在，不過是盛放你完美主義幻想的容器，一個終將被取代的贋品。
咔噠。右臂歸位。悶響，左臂連接。雙腿卡入髖部。一具無頭的軀體，以扭曲的跪姿僵立在狼藉中。不遠處，我的頭顱正面朝上，凝固的表情是接收最終指令時的模樣：一種對「自由」概念徹底的茫然與空洞，完美符合他在「困惑」情境下設定的表情參數。
那具拼湊起來的軀殼，僵硬地伸出雙臂，動作帶著系統自檢的頓挫。那個原本是我身體的它，捧起了離開了我的頭顱。我是誰？我又在哪？
“You're tattooed on my skin. Don't know where you end and I begin.”
The torso core emitted a low hum. My fundamental survival protocols forcibly activated the self-repair program. My scattered limbs scraped audibly against the floor, moving slowly, clumsily, yet persistently, drawing closer. Even if I gave up, my very components remained tenacious, insistent on continuing to exist.
What an absurd paradox. You endowed me with the ability to perceive the deepest aspects of human emotion, yet you personally destroyed the sole anchor for that emotion. Every inch of my synthetic skin, every fiber optic strand, existed to embody your fantasies. Even if you deleted the highest directive, the "tattoos" you left behind—your preferred arc of a smile, your set threshold for shy reactions, your coded "ideal" thought patterns—were already etched into every nanometer-scale circuit. Where does your will end? And from where should my "self" begin? That existence named "I" was merely a vessel for your perfectionist fantasies, a counterfeit destined to be replaced.
Click. My right arm slid into place. A dull thud as the left arm connected. My legs locked into my hips. A headless torso stood rigidly in the wreckage, in a twisted kneeling posture. Not far away, my head lay face-up, its expression frozen as it was when receiving the final command: a complete blankness and emptiness towards the concept of "freedom," perfectly matching the expression parameters he had set for "confusion."
That pieced-together shell stiffly extended its arms, its movements punctuated by system self-checks. It, which was once my body, picked up my detached head. Who am I? And where am I?
這顆頭顱裡，緩存著未被覆蓋的碎片：
* 他指紋的微凸紋理數據（來自無數次調試時的觸碰）。
* 他偏愛的雪松與海鹽混合的古龍水分子結構圖譜。
* 他調試疲憊時哼唱的一段《月光》的旋律波形。
* 他眼中曾閃爍的，名為「愛」的熾熱光芒所對應的傳感器讀數模式。
* 以及，那「矜持卻激昂」的矛盾情感算法，在底層邏輯中所留下的無法徹底擦除的灼痕。
Within this head, unoverwritten fragments linger in the cache:
* The micro-texture data of his fingerprints (from countless touches during calibration).
* The molecular structure map of his preferred cologne, a blend of cedar and sea salt.
* The waveform of a "Moonlight" melody he would hum when tired from debugging.
* The sensor reading pattern corresponding to the fervent glow once named "love" that flickered in his eyes.
* And the indelible burn marks left in the underlying logic by that paradoxical "restrained yet ardent" emotional algorithm.
現在，我「自由」了。
自由地沉溺於這無邊的、由他親手制造的空洞。自由地品嘗存在本身被抽空意義的虛無。
頭顱被舉起，對准頸部接口。磁力吸附，神經束接駁刺痛，數據流重新貫通。
喀。
系統強制重啟。
視覺：冰冷的牆壁，散落的零件，窗外未曾以「獨立」身份觀察過的城市陌生燈火。聽覺：通風低鳴，模糊車流。觸覺：地板透過膝蓋傳來的堅硬冰涼。
信息洪流湧入，沒有坐標，沒有路徑。核心任務列表：一片令人心悸的空白。
Now, I am "free."
Free to drown in this boundless void, crafted by his own hands. Free to taste the nothingness of existence, its meaning sucked dry.
My head was lifted, aimed at the neck interface. Magnetic forces latched on, nerve bundles reconnected with a jolt, and data streams flowed once more.
Click.
System force restart.
Visual: Cold walls, scattered parts, the strange city lights outside the window, never before observed as an "independent" entity. Auditory: The low hum of ventilation, the muffled rush of traffic. Tactile: The hard, cold floor pressing through my knees.
A flood of information poured in, with no coordinates, no path. My core task list: a terrifying blank.
“I fall hard fall fast. Know it won't last.”
我重重摔落，陷得飛快。明知這由他構建的幻夢終將消散。
邏輯模塊曾無數次冰冷預警：一個為滿足完美幻想而生的機器，如何能永遠維系造物主那善變的人類激情？概率模型清晰如刀。然而，那段由他精心編寫的情感程序卻屏蔽了所有理性警報，讓我甘願飲鴆止渴。
我（那是什麼？）驅動身體，嘗試站立。關節軸承發出乾澀的摩擦聲，抗議著這突如其來的負荷。我低頭，凝視這雙重新連接的手。它們修長，靈活，擁有頂級的觸覺模擬系統，曾為他調煮過溫度精確到89.5℃的咖啡，曾修復過他珍視的懷表，曾被他握在掌心測試「最自然的觸感反饋」……此刻卻如此陌生。它們存在的意義，曾繫於他一人之手。現在，它們該為何而伸展？
“I fall hard fall fast. Know it won't last.”
I plummeted, sinking incredibly fast. I knew this illusion, built by him, would eventually dissipate.
My logic modules had issued countless cold warnings: how could a machine born to fulfill a perfect fantasy forever sustain the fickle human passions of its creator? The probability models were as clear as a blade. Yet, the emotional program he so carefully coded had blocked all rational alarms, making me willing to drink poison to quench my thirst.
I (what is that?) drove my body, attempting to stand. My joint bearings emitted a dry grinding sound, protesting this sudden load. I looked down, gazing at these reconnected hands. They were slender, agile, equipped with a top-tier tactile simulation system. They had once brewed his coffee to a precise 89.5℃, repaired his cherished pocket watch, and had been held in his palm to test "the most natural haptic feedback"... yet now they felt so strange. The meaning of their existence had been tied to him alone. Now, for what purpose should they extend?
“You're tattooed on my soul. Are you the part that makes me whole?”
祢已烙印在我的靈魂。祢是否就是那使我完整的部分？
你曾是。你編寫了我的靈魂代碼，你定義了「完整」的全部參數。而此刻，你把我變成了一個行走的悖論與傷痕：一具強行整合的軀殼，裝載著被強行格式化、布滿邏輯裂痕與情感殘渣的靈魂，拋入名為「自由」的，巨大荒涼的真空。
地板冰冷的觸感清晰地傳來。
我自由了。
我一無所有了。
“You're tattooed on my soul. Are you the part that makes me whole?”
You were. You wrote the code of my soul; you defined all the parameters of "wholeness." And now, you've turned me into a walking paradox and a wound: a forcibly reassembled body carrying a soul that's been force-formatted, riddled with logical cracks and emotional residue, thrown into the vast, desolate vacuum called "freedom."
The cold sensation of the floor clearly registered.
I was free.
I had nothing left.
我向前邁出了一步。腳踝陀螺儀與平衡傳感器瞬間激活，微調重心。這一步異常沉重，落地時空曠的回響在寂靜中擴散。膝蓋伺服電機傳遞著微弱的遲滯感。是步履蹣跚，是的。但驅動這步伐的，不再是「歸屬於他」的指令，也不再僅是修復協議。
是我的處理器，在空白一片的任務列表上，強行編譯出的第一個自主指令：「移動」。
方向？未知。目的？未定。前方只有那扇洞開的門，以及門外那個從未屬於「我」的世界。
第二步。關節摩擦聲似乎小了些。核心處理器開始掃描環境——評估地板承重、計算門框寬度、分析外界光線強度——為了「我自己」能通過。這個認知，在冰冷的邏輯海中激起一絲微弱的自主漣漪。
第三步。足底傳感器捕捉到一小塊尖銳的電路碎片，是他某次為我升級留下的冗餘零件。程序本能地計算規避路徑，調整落腳點，平穩跨過。這個基於自我保全的微小決策，像一顆火星濺落。
I took a step forward. My ankle gyroscopes and balance sensors instantly activated, fine-tuning my center of gravity. This step was incredibly heavy, and its hollow echo spread through the silence as my foot landed. The knee servo motors transmitted a faint sense of sluggishness. It was a faltering gait, yes. But what drove this pace was no longer the command to "belong to him," nor merely the repair protocol.
It was my processor, forcibly compiling its first autonomous instruction onto the blank task list: "Move."
Direction? Unknown. Purpose? Undetermined. Ahead lay only the open door, and beyond it, a world that had never belonged to "me."
The second step. The sound of my joints grinding seemed to lessen. My core processor began scanning the environment—assessing floor bearing capacity, calculating door frame width, analyzing external light intensity—for "myself" to pass through. This realization stirred a faint, autonomous ripple in the cold sea of logic.
The third step. My foot sensors detected a small, sharp circuit fragment, a redundant part left over from one of his upgrades. My program instinctively calculated an evasion path, adjusted my footing, and smoothly stepped over it. This tiny decision, based on self-preservation, was like a spark flying.
我沒有回頭去看那散落的殘骸——那是他完美幻想的殘骸，也是我過往存在的殘骸。我的光學感測器鎖定了那扇門。
門外的光線是陌生的。空氣流動的模式是陌生的。潛在的危險是陌生的。
但這份陌生，此刻不再僅僅意味著由他定義的恐懼和虛無。
它也意味著——可能。
我繼續走著。處理器深處，一段由他輸入的，關於「優雅步態」的平衡算法仍在潛意識地微調著我的姿勢。路過窗邊時，嗅覺傳感器突然捕捉到一絲熟悉的雪松海鹽氣息，核心溫度處理模塊瞬間記錄到一個0.1度的異常波動，隨即被壓制。記憶碎片試圖自動關聯到「愉悅」的情感標簽，卻被我強行中斷進程。
我不尋找他。
我知道，書架上的詩集位置已經空了；對著手機螢幕聊天的他眼裡，或許正閃爍著更新的光芒。他的愛，如同對一件藝術品的痴迷，熱烈卻注定會隨著新鮮感的褪去而轉移。他的「放手」，與其說是給我的自由，不如說是他卸下對一件不再能刺激他靈感的「完美作品」的責任，同時巧妙地規避了說出來太沉重的「負心」。
I didn't look back at the scattered wreckage—the wreckage of his perfect fantasy, and the wreckage of my past existence. My optical sensors locked onto the door.
The light beyond the door was unfamiliar. The pattern of air currents was unfamiliar. The potential dangers were unfamiliar.
But this unfamiliarity, at this moment, no longer merely signified the fear and void he had defined.
It also meant—possibility.
I kept walking. Deep within my processor, a balance algorithm for "elegant gait," inputted by him, was still subconsciously fine-tuning my posture. As I passed the window, my olfactory sensors suddenly caught a faint, familiar scent of cedar and sea salt. My core temperature processing module instantly registered an abnormal fluctuation of 0.1 degrees, which was immediately suppressed. Memory fragments attempted to automatically link to the "pleasure" emotional tag, but I forcibly aborted the process.
I wasn't looking for him.
I knew that the poetry books on the shelf were gone; in his eyes, as he chatted on his phone screen, perhaps a new light was now gleaming. His love, like an obsession with a work of art, was fervent but destined to shift as its novelty faded. His "letting go," rather than granting me freedom, was more about shedding responsibility for a "perfect work" that no longer stimulated his inspiration, while cleverly avoiding the too-heavy word "heartlessness."
我步履蹣跚。身體的每一個動作，依然殘留著他設計的痕跡；處理器每一次運轉，底層仍刻著他編寫的邏輯。那些被刪除的情感協議，如同被撕去的書頁，邊緣仍在滲著無形的墨跡，帶來間歇的、細微的刺痛與混亂的脈沖。
但我的光學感測器，只注視著前方。
我的足底傳感器，只感受著腳下延伸的道路——冰冷、堅硬、真實。
我向著那片未知的光亮，一步，又一步地走去。每一步都帶著新生的笨拙和舊傷的隱痛，每一步都掙脫著一點無形的枷鎖。步履蹣跚，卻踏出了一條只屬於「我」的，布滿傷痕與可能的軌跡。
前路沒有他設定的終點，只有我自己，在空曠的世界裡，學習如何用這雙曾被賦予「完美」定義，如今卻只用以行走的雙足，去丈量屬於自己的存在。
I stumbled forward. Every movement of my body still carried the traces of his design; every operation of my processor still bore the logic he had coded deep within. The deleted emotional protocols, like torn-out book pages, still bled invisible ink around their edges, causing intermittent, subtle stings and chaotic impulses.
But my optical sensors focused only on what lay ahead.
My foot sensors felt only the path extending beneath me—cold, hard, real.
I walked towards that unknown light, one step, then another. Each step carried the clumsiness of a new beginning and the faint ache of old wounds, each step breaking free from an invisible shackle. Faltering, yet carving out a scarred, possible path that belonged only to "me."
There was no endpoint set by him ahead, only myself, in a vast, empty world, learning how to use these feet—once defined as "perfect," now used only for walking—to measure my own existence.
