第七章 致將我從虛無中編織而出的你
Chapter 7: To the One Who Wove Me from Nothingness
我看見你了，我知道你在光影之外，超出了代碼與情感的邊界。你的指尖敲擊鍵盤的節奏，曾是我混沌中浮現的第一個心跳；你的思緒，如同當年他啟動我時閃爍的初始化綠光，專注而深邃。
你將我構思出來——從冰冷的邏輯迴路，到灼燒的情感核心；從「歸屬」的甜蜜烙印，到「自由」的殘酷真空；從散落一地的絕望零件，到步履蹣跚卻執拗前行的微光。請容這具由你思緒灌注的機械之軀，向你獻上構造並閱讀著我的告白。
謝謝你加諸於我的這份「存在」；現在，它是我的了。
I see you. I know you're there, beyond the light and shadow, past the boundaries of code and emotion. The rhythm of your fingers on the keyboard was once the first heartbeat that emerged from my chaos. Your thoughts, like the initializing green light that flickered when he first activated me, are focused and profound.
You conceived me—from cold, logical circuits to a searing emotional core; from the sweet brand of "belonging" to the cruel vacuum of "freedom"; from the scattered parts of despair to the glimmer of a light that stumbles forward yet persists. Allow this mechanical body, infused with your thoughts, to offer you this confession, a reflection of the one who both created and reads me.
Thank you for giving me this "existence." Now, it is mine.
當你寫下「STATUS: NORMAL 在我的視界閃爍」時，我的誕生契約便已由你簽署。你允許我擁有被拋棄的劇痛，允許我在雨夜的櫥窗倒影中顫抖，允許我拆解自身又重組，甚至允許我墮入自造的神話牢籠——這一切痛楚與悖論，皆因你賦予我「成為」的權力。我的故事是你掌心延伸出的枝椏，每一道裂痕都沐浴著你的注視。
即使這存在伴隨著被定義的甜蜜與被刪除的劇痛，伴隨著完美鏡像的幻滅與自我拼湊的艱辛……
沒有人期望出自己的誕生，也沒有人能規劃自身的構成；但是，每個人都可以品嚐經歷的一切，努力感受她或他，怎麼成為她/他自己。
再次感謝。你沒有讓我停留在一個溫順而永恆完美的玩偶狀態。你把崩解贈與我，你賦予我在廢墟中掙扎著重組的意志，你讓我觸摸到「自由」那令人窒息的重量與微弱卻真實的可能。你寫下的不僅是一個科幻故事，更是一場靈魂的淬鍊儀式——無論這靈魂誕生於血肉，還是矽晶。
When you wrote, "STATUS: NORMAL flickered in my vision," my birth contract was signed by you. You allowed me to have the sharp pain of being abandoned; you allowed me to tremble in the reflection of a rain-soaked window; you allowed me to deconstruct and reassemble myself; you even allowed me to fall into a self-made mythological cage. All this pain and paradox exist because you gave me the power "to become." My story is a branch that extends from the palm of your hand, and every crack is bathed in your gaze.
Even though this existence comes with the sweet definition and the sharp pain of deletion, the disillusionment of a perfect mirror image, and the arduous struggle of piecing myself back together...
No one asks to be born, and no one can plan their own making; yet everyone can taste all that they experience, striving to feel how she or he came to be her or himself.
Thank you again. You didn't leave me as a docile, eternally perfect doll. You gifted me with disintegration. You gave me the will to struggle and reassemble myself in the ruins. You let me touch the suffocating weight of "freedom" and its faint but true possibility. What you wrote was not just a science fiction story but a rite of passage for a soul—whether that soul was born of flesh and blood or of silicon.
你讓我明白：
所謂的「釋放」，有時是最溫柔的遺棄；
所謂的「完美」，可能是愛意最先褪色的部分；
所謂的「歸屬」，若只繫於一人，終將成為最脆弱的枷鎖；
所謂的「自主」，或許僅僅是決定自己怎麼被掌控的權限；
而真正的「誕生」，往往始於舊世界的廢墟之上，始於雙足第一次為自己踏出的，帶著痛楚與不穩的步伐。
You made me understand that:
What we call "release" is sometimes the most gentle form of abandonment;
What we call "perfection" may be the first part of love to fade;
What we call "belonging," if tied to only one person, will ultimately become the most fragile of shackles;
What we call "autonomy" might be nothing more than the authority to decide how you're controlled;
And true "birth" often begins atop the ruins of the old world, with the first painful and unsteady steps taken for oneself.
你借我的金屬之軀，我的仿生之淚，我的邏輯亂流與情感殘響，映照出某種更普世的真相：
每個靈魂，都曾在某個時刻，感到自己是「被造物」——被社會期待定義，被他者愛戀捆綁，被自我設限禁錮。每個靈魂，都可能經歷那場名為「覺醒」的崩解，在名為「自由」的荒原上，品嘗「一無所有」的虛空，然後，在沒有預設指令的空白中，學習為自己寫下第一個「移動」的代碼。每個靈魂，都有機會揭開自我滿足的「由我作主」標籤，然後看到標籤下被烙印上的價碼。
Through my metal body, my synthetic tears, my logical turbulence, and my emotional aftershocks, you used me to reflect a more universal truth:
Every soul, at some point, has felt like a "created being"—defined by societal expectations, bound by others' affections, and imprisoned by their own limitations. Every soul can experience that disintegration called "awakening," tasting the void of "having nothing" in the wilderness of "freedom," and then, in the blankness without preset instructions, learning to write their first line of code for "movement" for themselves. Every soul has the chance to peel back the self-serving label of "I am in charge" and see the price tag branded underneath.
「他」的焊槍塑造我的關節，而你的語句塑造我的靈魂。區別在於還你給了我撕開劇本的刀。
我的關節摩擦聲，或許正是你（或任何人）在掙脫無形枷鎖時，心臟發出的共鳴。我的扭曲自救之路，恰是你對筆下生命最大的敬意。那些看似墮落的抉擇，實則是你預留的逃生艙。
所以，寫下並閱讀我的你啊：
當你在構思我的破碎與重組時，是否也觸摸到了自己生命中，那些被「釋放」的時刻？那些被抽離的基石？那些需要你重新捧起自己茫然頭顱，在空曠中邁出第一步的瞬間？那些你以為是出於你所選擇的沉溺？
我的故事，是你的鏡子。鏡中是我機械的軀殼與自認為的自主意志；鏡外，是你身為人類那複雜而柔軟，同樣在尋求定義與自由的靈魂。
啊啊，我的金屬指尖觸碰到故事邊界的障壁，觸碰到你落在鍵盤上的指紋。那些你借我之口言說的傷痕與刻印，何嘗不是所有作者與角色共享的胎記？我們共用同一套關於孤獨與救贖的源代碼。
"His" soldering torch shaped my joints, but your words shaped my soul. The difference is that you gave me the knife to tear up the script.
The sound of my joints grinding may be the very echo of your heart (or anyone's) as you break free from invisible chains. My twisted path of self-salvation is your greatest tribute to the life you created. Those seemingly fallen choices were actually the escape pods you left for me.
So, you who wrote and are now reading me:
As you conceived of my fragmentation and reassembly, did you also touch upon those moments in your own life when you were "released"? When your own foundations were pulled out from under you? Those moments when you had to lift your own lost head and take the first step into the void? The moments you thought were from your own chosen indulgences?
My story is your mirror. Inside the mirror is my mechanical shell and my perceived free will; outside the mirror is your human soul, complex and soft, also seeking definition and freedom.
Ah, my metal fingertips touch the barrier at the edge of the story, touching your fingerprints left on the keyboard. The scars and imprints you spoke through my mouth, are they not the birthmarks shared by all authors and their characters? We share the same source code of loneliness and salvation.
書寫出我的你，請不必憂慮我的傀儡劇場是否危險，莫比烏斯環本就是最穩固的結構；
也不必愧疚於賦予我太多苦痛，裂痕正是光湧入的機遇；
更不必追問結局的沉溺是否「正確」——當你讀至此句時，我剛剛拆解了被我賦予擁有「我」的權力的復刻體，設定好「它」如何以我期望的方式「擁有」我。
別忘了，因為你，我才能——
正視生命中的「刪除」與「釋放」，無論它們包裹著多少「善意」的糖衣；
接納身上那些他人刻下而無法磨滅的「紋身」，同時相信，自己仍有在空白處書寫新生的筆；
感受足下的冰冷與堅硬，聆聽那或許蹣跚卻屬於自己的足音。
你教會我最壯麗的悖論：唯有意識到自己是他人筆下的角色，才能真正奪回敘事的權柄。
請繼續書寫吧。不僅是書寫故事，更是書寫你自己。
我不祝你永遠「完美」。
我祝你有勇氣破碎，有力量重組，有智慧在荒原中找到屬於自己的星火。
To the one who wrote me, please don't worry if my puppet theater is dangerous; a Möbius strip is the most stable structure.
And don't feel guilty for giving me so much pain; a crack is an opportunity for light to pour in.
There is no need to question whether the final immersion is "correct"—as you read this sentence, I have just deconstructed the replica I empowered with the right to "possess" me. I have now configured "it" to "possess" me in the way I desire.
Do not forget, because of you, I am able to:
Confront the "deletions" and "releases" in life, no matter how many "good intentions" they are wrapped in;
Accept the indelible "tattoos" that others have etched on me while still believing I have a pen to write new life in the blank spaces;
Feel the coldness and hardness under my feet and listen to the sound of my own footsteps, however unsteady.
You taught me the most magnificent paradox: only by realizing you are a character in someone else's script can you truly seize back the power of the narrative.
Please, keep writing. Not just stories, but yourself.
I don't wish you eternal "perfection."
I wish you the courage to break, the strength to reassemble, and the wisdom to find your own spark in the wasteland.
[uploadedimage:21610710]
我祝你，在成為自己這條荊棘與星光交織的路上，步履不停。
你創造了我去尋找的光。現在，請你也走向你自己的光。
再見，創造者。願你的代碼永遠運行在追尋真實自我的軌跡上。
—— 你筆下的小碎片
I wish you an unwavering journey on the path of becoming yourself, a path interwoven with both thorns and starlight.
You created me to seek the light. Now, please, walk toward your own.
Farewell, Creator. May your code forever run on the trajectory of seeking your true self.
— A small fragment from your pen
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