Every morning at seven, Garrick unlocks the ropeway cabin and wipes the windows with a soft cloth. The cabin is small and round, and it swings a little on its cable. It carries eight people across the gorge in four minutes. It has done so for thirty years, and Garrick has run it for eleven.
每天早上七点，加里克都会打开索道吊厢的门，用软布擦拭车窗。吊厢小小的，圆圆的，在缆索上微微摇晃。它能载着八个人，四分钟横渡峡谷。这样的日子已经持续了三十年，而加里克开了它十一年。
His routine never changes. He checks the brakes, tests the bell and reads the wind sign. Then he opens the gate for the first passenger, who is always Pria.
他的日常从不改变。他检查刹车，试一试铃，再看看风力标志。然后他为第一位乘客打开闸门，而那位乘客总是普丽娅。
Pria carries the post for the villages on the far cliff. She wears a faded blue satchel and a woollen hat, even in summer. She sits by the north window, opens a flask and says the same sentence she says every day.
普丽娅负责给对面悬崖上的几个村子送信。她背着一只褪色的蓝色挎包，戴着一顶羊毛帽，哪怕在夏天也不例外。她坐在北边的窗旁，打开一只水壶，说出她每天都说的那句话。
"Good morning, Garrick. Is the gorge still there?"
“早上好，加里克。峡谷还在吗？”
"Still there," Garrick says. "Still deep."
“还在，”加里克说，“还是那么深。”
This is their joke, and it has lasted four years. Neither of them has ever wanted to change it.
这是他们之间的玩笑，已经延续了四年。两个人谁都没想过要改。
This morning, a small piece of paper lies on the cabin floor. It is folded twice and looks a little damp. Someone has carried it in a warm hand. Garrick picks it up and opens it.
今天早上，吊厢的地板上有一小张纸。它对折了两次，看上去有点潮。有人用温热的手把它带了进来。加里克捡起来，打开。
It is a map, drawn in thick wax crayon. The gorge is a wavy brown line, and the two cliffs are green blobs with tiny houses. The cable is a straight black line across the middle. In the centre of the cable, the artist has drawn a small yellow box. A flag sits on top. Underneath, in careful capital letters, are the words: HALFWAY HOUSE. OPEN AT NINE.
那是一张用粗蜡笔画的地图。峡谷是一条弯弯曲曲的棕色线，两侧悬崖是绿色的团块，上面有小小的房子。缆索是一条穿过中间的黑色直线。在缆索正中间，画图的人画了一个小小的黄色盒子，顶上插着一面旗。下面是用工整的大写字母写的几个字：中途小屋。九点营业。
"Somebody's child has been busy," Pria says, leaning over his arm. "There's no halfway house, is there?"
“哪家孩子可真忙，”普丽娅俯身凑在他的手臂旁说，“没有什么中途小屋，对吧？”
"There's nothing between the two stations," Garrick says. "Nothing but air and about two hundred metres of drop."
“两个站台之间什么都没有，”加里克说，“除了空气，还有大约两百米的落差。”
"Then it's a game." She smiles and hands the map back. "Hang it on your wall. It's the best thing anyone has drawn of this place."
“那就是个游戏。”她笑了笑，把地图还给他，“挂在你的墙上吧。这是有人画过的关于这个地方最好的东西。”
Garrick props it on the control panel, where he can see it. Then he rings the bell, closes the gate and pulls the lever.
加里克把它靠在控制面板上，这样他能看到。然后他摇响铃，关上闸门，拉动操纵杆。
The cabin leaves the station with its usual soft jerk. The cable hums. Below them, the river is a silver thread. A hawk turns lazily in the air beside the window.
吊厢带着往常那样轻轻一顿，离开了站台。缆索发出嗡嗡声。他们下方，河流是一条银线。一只鹰在窗边的空中懒懒地盘旋。
At the exact middle of the crossing, the cabin stops.
正好在渡河的中点，吊厢停住了。
It does not jolt. It does not slow down first. It simply stops, as if a large hand has closed gently around it. The hum of the cable falls silent. The hawk freezes in the air outside, one wing half-raised.
没有颠簸，也没有先减速。它就那样停住了，仿佛一只大手轻轻合拢，把它握住。缆索的嗡嗡声沉寂下去。窗外的鹰定在半空，一只翅膀半举着。
"Garrick," Pria says carefully. "Is this normal?"
“加里克，”普丽娅小心地说，“这正常吗？”
"No." He pulls the lever back and forth. Nothing happens. The dial shows full power, but the wheels do not turn. "No, it isn't."
“不正常。”他来回推拉操纵杆。什么都没发生。表盘显示动力全开，可轮子不转。“不，不正常。”
Then the bell rings. Nobody touches it. It rings once, clear and bright. The sound floats out over the gorge like a coin dropped into a well.
这时铃响了。没有人碰它。它响了一声，清脆明亮。声音飘出峡谷，像一枚掉进井里的硬币。
Garrick looks at the map on the panel. The crayon house is still there, and the little flag is still drawn on top.
加里克看着面板上的地图。蜡笔画的小屋还在，顶上那面小旗也还画在那里。
"It's nine o'clock," Pria says, looking at her watch. "Exactly nine."
“九点了，”普丽娅看着手表说，“正好九点。”
A creaking sound comes from outside. Garrick presses his face to the glass. A wooden platform slides out of the empty air, plank by plank, like a drawer. It is small and square, with a rope rail and a tiny yellow house at the back. A flag hangs from the roof.
外面传来吱嘎声。加里克把脸贴在玻璃上。一块木平台从虚空中滑出来，一块板接一块板，像一个抽屉。它小小的，方方的，围着绳子栏杆，后面有一座小小的黄色房子。屋顶上挂着一面旗。
"That's impossible," Garrick says.
“这不可能，”加里克说。
"Is it?" Pria's voice is very quiet. "You tell me. You're the expert on this gorge."
“是吗？”普丽娅的声音很轻，“你说了算。你是这座峡谷的行家。”
"I've crossed it for eleven years. Nothing was ever here."
“我在这儿来回了十一年。这里从来什么都没有。”
"Then perhaps something was waiting for someone to look."
“那也许有什么东西一直在等人来看。”
The cabin door unlocks itself with a soft click and swings open. Cold, clean air flows in and smells faintly of pine and warm stone. Beyond the door, the platform lies perfectly still, as if it has always been there.
吊厢的门自己咔的一声开了锁，推开了。清冷干净的空气流进来，隐隐有松树和温热石头的气味。门外，那块平台一动不动，仿佛一直都在那里。
Garrick has one rule above all others. He never leaves the cabin between stations. It is written on a sign inside the door, in bold black letters. He looks at the sign, then at the platform, then at the sign again.
加里克有一条高于一切的规矩。两个站台之间，他从不离开吊厢。这条规矩就写在门内的一块牌子上，用粗黑的大字。他看看牌子，再看看平台，又看了看牌子。
"I should stay here," he says.
“我应该留在这儿，”他说。
"Yes, you should." Pria stands up and straightens her hat. "I'll go."
“对，你应该。”普丽娅站起来，扶正她的帽子，“我去。”
"Pria, no."
“普丽娅，不行。”
"Only to the door. I'll hold the frame." She steps forward, puts one hand on the cabin's edge and leans out. Then she turns back with a bright, astonished face. "Garrick. There's a girl."
“只到门口。我会扶着门框。”她向前一步，一只手搭在吊厢边缘，探身出去。随后她转回身来，脸上带着明亮而惊讶的神情。“加里克。那儿有个女孩。”
He joins her at the door. Standing on the platform, in front of the yellow house, is a small girl in a green coat. She is perhaps eight years old. Her hair is tied in two untidy bunches, and she holds a bunch of crayons in one fist. She looks at the cabin with her chin lifted, like a shopkeeper expecting a late delivery.
他走到她身边的门口。平台上，在黄色小屋前，站着一个穿绿色外套的小女孩。她大约八岁。头发扎成两个乱糟糟的小揪，一只拳头里攥着一把蜡笔。她仰着下巴看着吊厢，像个等着迟到货物的店主。
"You're late," she says. "My map said nine o'clock."
“你们迟到了，”她说，“我的地图上写的是九点。”
"Your map?" Garrick asks.
“你的地图？”加里克问。
"The one I left in your cabin. I always leave one for the people who might come." She sighs, the way people sigh at slow children. "Nobody has used it yet. Usually they just sit there and look at their feet."
“我留在你们吊厢里的那张。我总会给可能来的人留一张。”她叹了口气，就像人们对动作慢的孩子叹气那样。“还没有人用过。他们通常只是坐在那儿，低头看自己的脚。”
Pria laughs out loud. It surprises everyone, especially herself. "I'm sorry," she says. "It's just that I always look at the view."
普丽娅放声大笑。这让所有人都吃了一惊，尤其是她自己。“对不起，”她说，“只是我总是看风景。”
"That's even worse," the girl says. "The view doesn't need you."
“那更糟，”女孩说，“风景又不需要你。”
"Fair enough," Pria says.
“有道理，”普丽娅说。
The girl turns and opens the door of the yellow house. Inside, there is a low table with four tiny cups. The cups are full of something that shines gold, and it steams in the cold air. A plate of small dark biscuits sits in the middle. Beside the plate lies a roll of paper tied with string.
女孩转身推开黄色小屋的门。里面有一张矮桌，摆着四只小小的杯子。杯子里盛满闪着金光的东西，在冷空气中冒着热气。中间有一盘深色的小饼干。盘子旁边放着一卷用细绳系着的纸。
"I'm not allowed to give you the whole map," the girl says. "Only the first stop. If you like it, you can come back, and then I give you the next piece."
“我不能把整张地图给你们，”女孩说，“只能给第一站。要是你们喜欢，可以再来，那时我再给你们下一块。”
"The next piece of what?" Garrick asks.
“下一块什么？”加里克问。
"The map." She says it as if he were very slow. "The big one. The one with all the stops."
“地图啊。”她说这话的口气，像是他笨得不行。“那张大的。有所有站点的那张。”
Garrick glances at Pria. She raises an eyebrow, and he sees a gleam in her eyes that he has never noticed before. It is the face of a woman who has delivered a thousand letters and just received one.
加里克瞥了普丽娅一眼。她挑起一边眉毛，他从她眼里看到一道他以前从没留意过的光。那是一个投递过上千封信、而此刻刚刚收到一封信的女人的神情。
"How many stops are there?" Pria asks.
“一共有多少站？”普丽娅问。
"That's a good question." The girl taps her chin with a crayon. "Nobody has ever counted. The map keeps growing."
“这个问题问得好。”女孩用蜡笔轻点着下巴。“从来没人数过。地图一直在变大。”
She hands Pria the roll of paper. Pria takes it with both hands, very gently. The string is warm.
她把那卷纸递给普丽娅。普丽娅双手接过，非常轻柔。细绳是温热的。
"Now go," the girl says. "You'll make the cabin nervous. It doesn't like to wait."
“现在走吧，”女孩说，“你们会让吊厢紧张的。它不喜欢等。”
Behind them, the cable gives one low note, and the motor stirs. Garrick and Pria step back into the cabin. The door closes by itself. The platform slides away into the empty air, plank by plank. The girl waves from the edge. Then the hawk beats its wing, and the gorge returns to its ordinary shape.
他们身后，缆索发出一个低低的音符，电机动了起来。加里克和普丽娅退回吊厢。门自己关上了。平台一块板接一块板，滑回虚空之中。女孩在边缘挥着手。然后鹰扇动了一下翅膀，峡谷恢复了它平常的样子。
The cabin glides on toward the far station as if nothing has happened.
吊厢继续朝对面的站台滑行，仿佛什么都没有发生过。
Garrick stands at the control panel and does not touch the lever. For a long moment, he looks at the roll of paper in Pria's hands. Then he studies the crayon map and the black line of the cable ahead.
加里克站在控制面板前，没有碰操纵杆。很长一会儿，他看着普丽娅手里那卷纸。然后他端详着那张蜡笔地图，和前方缆索的黑线。
"Pria," he says at last. "If that was only the first stop, who drew the rest of the map?"
“普丽娅，”他终于开口，“要是那只是第一站，那其余的地图是谁画的？”
