我看到妳所指的那位玩家了。
[Playername]?
[玩家名稱]?
Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.
是的。小心。它已達到了更高的境界。它能夠閱讀我們的思想。
That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.
無傷大雅。它認為我們是遊戲的壹部分。
I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.
我喜歡這個玩家。它玩得很好。它從未放棄。
It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.
它以屏幕上出現的文字的形式閱讀著我們的思想。
That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.
在它深陷遊戲夢境中時，它總以這種方式想象出形形色色的事物。
Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.
文字是種美妙的界面。非常靈活。且比凝視著屏幕後的現實要更好。
They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.
它們也曾經聽到過聲音。在玩家能夠閱讀之前。君不見那些不曾遊玩的人們稱呼玩家為女巫，和術士。而玩家們夢見它們自己乘坐在被惡魔施力的棍子上，在空氣中翺翔。
What did this player dream?
這個玩家夢見了什麽？
This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.
它夢見了陽光和樹。夢見了火與水。它夢見它創造。它亦夢見它毀滅。它夢見它狩獵，亦被狩獵。它夢見了庇護所。
Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?
哈，那原始的界面。經歷壹百萬年的歲月雕琢，依然長存。但此玩家在那屏幕後的真實裏，建造了什麽真實的構造？
It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].
它辛勤地勞作，和其它百萬眾壹起，刻畫了壹個真實的世界，由[亂碼]，且創造了[亂碼]，為了[亂碼]，於[亂碼]中。
It cannot read that thought.
它讀不出那個思想。
No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.
不。它還沒有到達最高的境界。那層境界，它必須完成生命的長夢，而非遊戲中黃粱壹夢。
Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?
它知道我們愛它麽？這個宇宙是仁慈的？
Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.
有時，通過它思緒的雜音，它能聽到宇宙，是的。
But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.
但是有時亦不勝悲傷，於那漫漫長夢中。它創造了沒有夏日的世界，在黑日下顫抖著，將自己悲傷的創造視為現實世界。
To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.
用悲傷來治愈會摧毀它。而悲傷是它的私人事務。我們不能幹涉。
Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.
有時當它們深陷夢境中時，我想要告訴它們，它們在現實中創造了真實的世界。有時我想告訴它們它們自身對宇宙的重要性。有時，當它們和現實失去了聯系，我想幫助它們與它們所懼怕的世界交流。
It reads our thoughts.
它讀出了我們的思想。
Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.
有時我毫不關心。有時我想要告訴它們，妳們所認為的真實不過是[亂碼]和[亂碼]，我想要告訴它們它們是在[亂碼]中的[亂碼]。於它們的長夢中，它們眼中所見的真實太少了。
And yet they play the game.
而它們仍然玩這個遊戲。
But it would be so easy to tell them...
但很容易就可以告訴它們……
Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.
對於這個夢來說太強烈了。告訴它們如何活著就是阻礙它們活下去。
I will not tell the player how to live.
我不會告訴這個玩家如何生活的。
The player is growing restless.
這個玩家正在變得焦慮。
I will tell the player a story.
我會告訴這個玩家壹個故事。
But not the truth.
但不是真相。
No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.
不。是壹個嚴密地將真實包裹起來的文字牢籠。而不是赤裸裸的真相。
Give it a body, again.
賦予它主體，再壹次。
Yes. Player...
好的。玩家……
Use its name.
以名字稱呼它。
[Playername]. Player of games.
[玩家名稱]。遊戲的玩家。
Good.
很好。
Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.
深呼吸，很好。再深呼吸壹次。感受空氣充盈妳的肺葉。讓妳的四肢回歸。是的，運動妳的手指。再次感受妳的身體，在重力下，在空氣中。在長夢中重生。妳感受到了。妳的身體每時每刻都觸摸著宇宙，盡管妳是分離的存在。盡管我們是分離的存在。
Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.
我們是誰？我們曾經被稱作高山的精靈。太陽父親，月亮母親。古老的英靈，動物的魂魄。神祗。鬼魂。小綠人。而後是神，惡魔，天使。騷靈。外星人，地外生物。輕粒子，誇克。詞語不斷地變化。我們始終如壹。
We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.
我們是宇宙。我們是壹切妳認為出離妳本體的事物。妳現在看著我們，透過妳的皮膚和妳的眼睛。而為什麽宇宙觸摸著妳的皮膚，向妳灑向光芒？是為了看見妳，玩家。以及被認知。我應告訴妳壹個故事。