At seven o'clock, the roof of the building on Mill Street looks perfect. The sky is orange and the air is warm. A photographer sets up her camera near the water tank. Valerio stands next to her with a clipboard and a big smile.
七点钟，磨坊街那栋楼的屋顶看上去完美极了。天空是橙色的，空气暖洋洋的。一位摄影师在水箱旁架好了相机。瓦莱里奥拿着一块写字夹板站在她旁边，脸上带着大大的笑容。
"Sunset is at seven forty-eight," the photographer says. "I take one group photo, and I leave. I have another job at eight."
“日落是七点四十八分，”摄影师说，“我拍一张集体照就走。八点我还有另一单活儿。”
"No problem," Valerio says. "Everyone is coming. It is the building's fiftieth birthday."
“没问题，”瓦莱里奥说，“大家都会来的。这是大楼五十岁的生日。”
His mother manages the building, and she gave him this one job. He must bring all forty residents to the roof for the photo. He has a list, a loud voice and forty-eight minutes. It sounds easy.
他妈妈是这栋楼的管理员，交给了他这一件差事：把四十位住户全部带到屋顶拍照。他有一份名单、一副大嗓门，还有四十八分钟。听起来很容易。
Then the lights go out.
然后，灯灭了。
It happens all at once. The hum of the lift stops. The lamp over the roof door goes dark, and every window turns black. From somewhere below, a voice shouts, "Not again!"
一下子全灭了。电梯的嗡嗡声停了。屋顶门上方的灯暗了下去，所有的窗户都变得漆黑。楼下某处有个声音喊道：“怎么又来了！”
Valerio's friend Deniz comes up the stairs with a tripod under his arm. He is breathing hard, and he holds his phone up as a torch in his other hand.
瓦莱里奥的朋友德尼兹腋下夹着三脚架，从楼梯上来了。他气喘吁吁，另一只手举着手机当手电筒。
"The whole street has no power," Deniz says. "The lift is dead. I climbed eight floors in the dark."
“整条街都停电了，”德尼兹说，“电梯停了。我摸黑爬了八层楼。”
"That is fine," Valerio says. "I have the list. I will go down and knock on every door."
“没关系，”瓦莱里奥说，“我有名单。我下去挨家挨户敲门。”
"With what light?"
“用什么照亮？”
"Your phone," Valerio says.
“你的手机。”瓦莱里奥说。
Deniz sighs, but he lifts the light over the clipboard. Valerio looks down at the first page and stops.
德尼兹叹了口气，但还是把光举到了夹板上方。瓦莱里奥低头看第一页，愣住了。
The title does not say Residents. It says Pizza Night Orders.
标题上写的不是“住户”。写的是“披萨之夜订单”。
"Oh no," he says.
“糟了。”他说。
"What?" Deniz leans closer and reads out loud. "Flat three, one large, no olives, extra cheese. Flat nine, three pizzas, one for the cat. Flat fourteen, whatever is cheapest, but not mushrooms."
“怎么了？”德尼兹凑近了，大声念出来。“三号房，一个大号，不要橄榄，多加芝士。九号房，三个披萨，其中一个给猫。十四号房，哪个最便宜就要哪个，但不要蘑菇。”
"This is the wrong list," Valerio says. "I left the real one on my kitchen table."
“这是错的名单，”瓦莱里奥说，“真的那份被我落在厨房桌子上了。”
"Then go and get it!"
“那就去拿啊！”
"My kitchen is on the first floor, and we are on the eighth. The stairs are black. That is twelve minutes down and up, and I still have to find the doors."
“我的厨房在一楼，我们在八楼。楼梯里一片漆黑。一上一下要十二分钟，我还得去找每家的门。”
The photographer taps her watch. "Forty minutes," she says, without looking up.
摄影师敲了敲手表。“还剩四十分钟。”她头也不抬地说。
Deniz sits on the tripod case and studies the page. He is the kind of person who reads everything, even the back of a cereal box. Valerio paces. He imagines the photo with only three people in it, and his mother's face next to it.
德尼兹坐在三脚架包上，研究着那一页纸。他是那种什么都要读的人，连麦片盒背面也不放过。瓦莱里奥来回踱步。他想象着照片里只有三个人，旁边还有他妈妈的脸。
"Wait," Deniz says slowly. "Who orders pizza on a night like this?"
“等等，”德尼兹慢慢地说，“这样的夜晚，谁会订披萨呢？”
"Everyone," Valerio says. "Pizza night is the best night of the month. Every flat that wants one signs the list."
“所有人啊，”瓦莱里奥说，“披萨之夜是每个月最棒的一晚。每个想吃的住户都会在名单上签名。”
"So these are people who are home tonight."
“所以这些人今晚都在家。”
"Yes. Eleven flats are on this list, and they are all waiting for dinner."
“对。名单上有十一户，他们全都在等晚饭。”
Deniz stands up. "And the delivery man comes at seven thirty, right?"
德尼兹站了起来。“而且送货员七点半到，对吧？”
"He comes at seven thirty." Valerio stares at him. "Deniz, what are you thinking?"
“七点半到。”瓦莱里奥盯着他。“德尼兹，你在想什么？”
"I am thinking that nobody leaves their flat in the dark, except for one reason."
“我在想，除了一个原因，没人会在黑漆漆的时候离开自己的家。”
A slow smile grows on Valerio's face. He takes out his own phone and finds the number of the pizza shop. It rings four times.
瓦莱里奥脸上慢慢浮起笑容。他掏出自己的手机，找到披萨店的电话号码。响了四声。
"Hello, Corner Slice," a tired voice says. "We have a power cut, but our ovens use gas. We are still working."
“你好，街角披萨店，”一个疲惫的声音说，“我们这儿停电了，不过烤炉是烧燃气的。我们照常营业。”
"This is Valerio from Mill Street," Valerio says. "Please bring everything to the roof. All eleven orders. Not to the doors. The roof."
“我是磨坊街的瓦莱里奥，”瓦莱里奥说，“请把所有东西都送到屋顶上来。十一份订单全部送。不要送到各家门口。送到屋顶。”
"The roof? The lift is dead."
“屋顶？电梯可是坏了。”
"Yes, I know. Please tell the driver to knock on the front door and shout up the stairs. Tell him the whole building is waiting."
“对，我知道。请让送货员敲楼下大门，然后朝楼梯上面喊一声。告诉他，整栋楼的人都在等他。”
There is a long silence on the line. Then the voice laughs. "My driver will love this. He is not very fond of stairs."
电话那头沉默了很久。然后那个声音笑了。“我的送货员一定会爱死这个的。他可不怎么喜欢爬楼梯。”
Valerio hangs up. Deniz is already moving across the roof. He picks up an orange traffic cone from the corner. He holds the narrow end to his mouth.
瓦莱里奥挂了电话。德尼兹已经在屋顶上走动了。他从角落里拎起一个橙色的交通锥，把窄的一头凑到嘴边。
"What are you doing?" Valerio asks.
“你在干什么？”瓦莱里奥问。
"I am making a megaphone," Deniz says. "Watch."
“我在做扩音器，”德尼兹说，“看着。”
He walks to the open stairwell door, leans over the dark shaft and shouts into the cone. "Attention, residents of Mill Street! Pizza night is on the roof! Bring your chairs, your forks and your friends!"
他走到敞开的楼梯间门口，探身对着漆黑的楼梯井，朝锥筒里大喊。“磨坊街的全体住户请注意！披萨之夜改在屋顶了！带上你们的椅子、你们的叉子，还有你们的朋友！”
The sound goes down eight floors like a stone in a well. For a moment, nothing answers. Then a door opens somewhere far below. A second door opens, and a third.
声音像一块石头落进井里，一路沉下八层楼。一时没有任何回应。接着，远远的下方某处有一扇门开了。第二扇门开了，然后是第三扇。
"Pizza?" a woman shouts from the fifth floor.
“披萨？”一位女士在五楼喊道。
"On the roof!" Deniz shouts back. "Hurry, because it is getting cold!"
“在屋顶上！”德尼兹喊回去，“快点，不然要凉了！”
"It is not even here yet," Valerio whispers.
“它连影子都还没到呢。”瓦莱里奥小声说。
"They do not need to know that," Deniz says.
“他们不需要知道这个。”德尼兹说。
Soon they hear feet on the stairs. First there are only a few, then there are many, and all of them are climbing. Phone lights bounce on the walls like small, nervous stars. A boy appears at the roof door carrying a cushion. Behind him come two sisters in matching pyjamas, and a man with a camping lamp.
不一会儿，他们听到了楼梯上的脚步声。起初只有几个人，后来越来越多，全都在往上爬。手机的灯光在墙壁上跳动，像一颗颗紧张的小星星。一个男孩抱着一个坐垫出现在屋顶门口。他身后跟着两个穿着同款睡衣的姐妹，还有一个提着露营灯的男人。
"Where is the pizza?" the man asks.
“披萨在哪儿？”那个男人问。
"It is coming," Valerio says. "While we wait, would you stand over there? By the water tank, please. We are taking a photo of the whole building."
“马上就到，”瓦莱里奥说，“等的时候，您能站到那边去吗？就在水箱旁边，谢谢。我们要给整栋楼拍一张照片。”
The man looks at the photographer, then at the sunset, then at the list. He shrugs. "All right. But I am staying for the pizza."
男人看看摄影师，又看看落日，再看看名单。他耸了耸肩。“好吧。不过我要留下来吃披萨。”
"Everyone is," Valerio says.
“大家都留。”瓦莱里奥说。
At seven forty, the front door of the building bangs. A loud, angry voice rises through the stairwell. It is the driver, and he is saying a number of unfriendly things about the lift. Deniz grins and counts on his fingers.
七点四十分，楼下的大门砰的一声响了。一个又大又愤怒的声音从楼梯间里传上来。是送货员，他正对电梯说着一连串很不客气的话。德尼兹咧嘴笑着，用手指数着人数。
"Eleven flats, but I count more people than that," he says. "Look."
“十一户，可我数的人比这多多了，”他说，“你看。”
It is true. The roof is filling quickly. Some residents bring stools, and some bring blankets. One woman carries a plate of olives, and she has no idea why she is there. Even the quiet teacher from the fourth floor is here, holding a candle in a jar.
确实如此。屋顶上的人越来越多。有的住户带来了凳子，有的带来了毯子。一位女士端着一盘橄榄，她完全不知道自己为什么会在这儿。连四楼那位安静的老师也来了，手里拿着一盏装在罐子里的蜡烛。
Valerio walks between them and tries to count heads. He loses count at thirty-one. It is almost seven forty-five, and the sky is turning from orange to deep pink.
瓦莱里奥在人群中穿行，试着数人头。数到三十一时他就数乱了。已经快七点四十五分了，天空正由橙色转为深粉色。
The driver arrives at last, sweating and furious, with a tall tower of boxes in his arms. The crowd cheers as if he has won a race. He looks around the roof, confused. Then he sits on a bucket and fans himself with a menu.
送货员终于到了，汗流浃背，怒气冲冲，怀里抱着一高摞盒子。人群欢呼起来，好像他赢了一场比赛。他困惑地环顾屋顶。然后他在一个水桶上坐下，用菜单给自己扇风。
"Next time," he says, "somebody tell me there are eight floors."
“下次，”他说，“谁来告诉我一声，这楼有八层。”
"Next time," Valerio says, "the right list will be on the clipboard."
“下次，”瓦莱里奥说，“夹板上会是对的名单。”
The photographer claps her hands. "Everybody, please! Stand close, hold your boxes, and look at me. The light is going."
摄影师拍了拍手。“大家请注意！站近一点，拿好你们的盒子，看着我。光线要没了。”
Forty people squeeze into one row. Children sit on shoulders, and the cat from flat nine peeks out of a coat. Deniz stands at the end, still holding the orange cone. Valerio stands in the middle with the wrong list on his chest.
四十个人挤成了一排。孩子们坐在肩膀上，九号房的猫从一件外套里探出头来。德尼兹站在队伍末端，手里还拿着那个橙色锥筒。瓦莱里奥站在中间，胸前挂着那份错的名单。
"Ready?" the photographer asks. She lifts the camera. "One, two, three."
“准备好了吗？”摄影师问。她举起了相机。“一，二，三。”
"Pizza!" forty voices shout.
“披萨！”四十个声音一起喊道。
Click.
咔嚓。
