The Sea Star Arcade never really sleeps. Even at ten in the morning, the doors are still locked. The machines hum and blink to themselves like a room full of tired animals. Dilan loves this hour. He walks along the sticky carpet with a ring of keys, checking coins and switching on screens.
海星游戏厅从来没有真正睡着过。哪怕到了上午十点，大门依旧锁着，机器们仍在低声嗡嗡作响、兀自闪烁，像一屋子疲惫的动物。迪兰喜欢这个钟点。他拎着一串钥匙，走过黏糊糊的地毯，检查硬币，打开一台台屏幕。
He is twenty-three, and he has worked here since he was seventeen. Everybody says he is the best technician the pier ever had. Everybody also asks him the same question, which is when he plans to do something else.
他二十三岁，从十七岁起就在这里工作。人人都说他是这座码头有史以来最好的技师。人人也都问他同一个问题：他打算什么时候去做点别的。
This morning he has a letter in his back pocket that he has not answered. A company in the city offers him a job fixing game machines. It comes with a proper salary and a desk. The letter has been there for nine days.
今天早上，他的后裤袋里装着一封还没回复的信。城里的一家公司请他去修游戏机，有正式的薪水，还有一张属于自己的办公桌。这封信已经在他口袋里放了九天。
At the far end, the cleaner is pushing the heavy air hockey table away from the wall. She stops and bends down.
在游戏厅的最里面，清洁工正把那张沉重的空气曲棍球桌从墙边推开。她停下来，弯下腰。
"Dilan, come and look at this."
“迪兰，过来看看这个。”
Under the table, in a nest of dust and old coins, lies a small black plastic tube. Dilan picks it up and shakes it. Something rattles inside. He pulls off the lid and finds a roll of camera film. It is the old kind that people used before phones.
桌子底下，在一团灰尘和旧硬币中间，躺着一个黑色的小塑料筒。迪兰捡起来摇了摇，里面有东西在哗啦作响。他拔开盖子，发现是一卷相机胶卷，就是手机出现之前人们用的那种老式胶卷。
"Somebody's holiday photos," the cleaner says. "Probably twenty years old."
“是谁的度假照片吧，”清洁工说，“多半有二十年了。”
"Why would anyone leave them here?"
“怎么会有人把它落在这里？”
"They were never left. They fell." She wipes her hands on her apron. "Give it to the manager. He decides what we do with lost things."
“不是落下的，是掉下去的。”她在围裙上擦了擦手，“交给经理吧。丢了的东西怎么处理，由他决定。”
The manager is in his office, eating an apple over a pile of invoices. He looks at the tube for about two seconds.
经理在办公室里，正对着一堆发票啃苹果。他看了看那个塑料筒，大概只看了两秒钟。
"Film," he says. "Nobody can use that any more. Throw it away."
“胶卷，”他说，“现在没人能用了。扔掉。”
"It might have pictures on it."
“上面说不定有照片。”
"It might have a lot of things on it. It is also under a table that was last moved before you were born." The manager waves a hand. "We are not a museum, Dilan. Bin it."
“上面说不定有很多东西。可它在一张桌子底下，上一次挪动那张桌子的时候，你还没出生呢。”经理挥了挥手，“我们又不是博物馆，迪兰。扔进垃圾桶。”
Dilan walks back across the arcade with the tube in his hand. He stops beside the bin and holds the tube over the opening. His fingers will not let go.
迪兰握着塑料筒，穿过游戏厅走回去。他在垃圾桶旁边停下，把塑料筒举到桶口上方，可手指就是不肯松开。
He is not sure why. He only knows that someone once held this roll. That person thought it was important enough to keep in a small black case. It would be strange to see it end up in a bin next to a paper cup.
他说不清为什么。他只知道，曾经有个人握过这卷胶卷，觉得它重要到值得装进一个黑色的小盒子里留着。看着它最后和一只纸杯一起躺在垃圾桶里，未免太奇怪了。
He drops the tube into his pocket, next to the letter from the city.
他把塑料筒放进口袋，挨着那封来自城里的信。
On his lunch break, he walks to the photo shop at the end of the pier. A man with thick glasses takes the film, turns it over twice and smiles.
午休时，他走到码头尽头的照相馆。一个戴厚眼镜的男人接过胶卷，翻来覆去看了两遍，笑了起来。
"I have not seen one of these in a long time," he says. "The roll is old. The pictures may be pale, or they may be nothing. But I will try."
“我很久没见过这玩意儿了，”他说，“这卷胶卷太老了，照片也许已经发白，也许什么都没有。不过我试试看。”
"How much?"
“多少钱？”
"Ten pounds. Come back on Thursday."
“十英镑。星期四来取。”
Dilan pays and goes back to work. For three days he checks his phone and pretends he is not thinking about it. His workmates tease him about it. On Thursday, he runs to the shop before it opens.
迪兰付了钱，回去上班。接下来的三天里，他不停地看手机，假装自己没在想这件事。同事们为此打趣他。星期四，他在照相馆开门之前就跑了过去。
The man hands him a thin envelope. "Eighteen pictures came out," he says. "The rest is dark. I think you will like them."
男人递给他一个薄薄的信封。“洗出来十八张，”他说，“其余的都是黑的。我想你会喜欢的。”
Dilan opens the envelope on the pier railing, with the sea flashing behind him. The first photograph shows the front of the Sea Star Arcade. The sign is newer and brighter, and the paint is fresh. The second shows a row of boys in front of the old racing game. They are about sixteen. They are all laughing, and they are pulling silly faces at the camera.
迪兰在码头的栏杆边拆开信封，身后的海面波光闪烁。第一张照片拍的是海星游戏厅的门面，招牌更新更亮，油漆也是崭新的。第二张里，一排男孩站在那台老赛车游戏机前，大约十六岁，个个都在笑，对着镜头做鬼脸。
In the fifth photograph, one of the boys stands alone in front of the machine. He holds up one hand. His other hand is on the wheel. On the screen behind him, large yellow letters show the name MAG and a score of 99,990.
第五张里，其中一个男孩独自站在机器前。他举起一只手，另一只手扶着方向盘。他身后的屏幕上，醒目的黄色大字写着名字MAG，分数是99,990。
Dilan looks up from the photograph. He knows that name. It has been at the top of the old racing machine for as long as he can remember. In all his years at the arcade, no one has ever beaten it.
迪兰从照片上抬起头。这个名字他认得。就他记忆所及，它一直排在那台老赛车机的榜首。在游戏厅工作的这么多年里，从来没有人打破过这个纪录。
"MAG," he says out loud. "Who are you?"
“MAG，”他大声说，“你到底是谁？”
He asks the cleaner. She does not know. He asks the manager, who says the name was there before him. He asks the regular customers, who shrug. A boy who plays the claw machine every afternoon says it must be a ghost.
他问清洁工，她不知道。他问经理，经理说这个名字在他来之前就有了。他问常客，大家只是耸耸肩。一个每天下午都来玩抓娃娃机的男孩说，那一定是个幽灵。
Dilan does not give up. He takes the photographs to work every day and shows them to anyone who stands still. On Saturday evening, he is still carrying the envelope when a man walks in through the front doors.
迪兰没有放弃。他每天都把照片带去上班，见人站着不动就拿给人看。星期六傍晚，他依旧揣着那个信封，一个男人从前门走了进来。
The man is about thirty-five. He wears a dark coat and holds the strap of a travel bag. He does not look at the machines in a casual way. He looks at them like someone who is checking whether they remember him. He walks slowly down the aisle, past the air hockey table. Then he stops in front of the old racing game.
那人三十五岁上下，穿一件深色外套，手里攥着旅行包的背带。他看那些机器的神情并不随意，倒像是在确认它们是否还记得自己。他沿着过道慢慢往里走，经过空气曲棍球桌，然后在那台老赛车机前停了下来。
He stands there for a long time.
他在那里站了很久。
Dilan watches from behind the counter. Then he sees the man lean forward and read the top of the screen.
迪兰在柜台后面看着。接着，他看见那个男人向前倾身，读着屏幕顶端的字。
MAG. 99,990.
MAG。99,990。
Dilan's heart starts to beat faster. He crosses the arcade before he can change his mind.
迪兰的心跳越来越快。他还没来得及改变主意，就已经穿过游戏厅走了过去。
"Excuse me," he says. "Is that your name?"
“打扰一下，”他说，“那是您的名字吗？”
The man turns. His eyes are kind and a little surprised. "It was," he says. "For about ten years. My name is Magnus. Why? Does the machine still work?"
男人转过身来。他的眼神温和，还带着一丝惊讶。“以前是，”他说，“大概有十年吧。我叫马格努斯。怎么了？这台机器还能用吗？”
"It always works. I fix it." Dilan takes a breath. "Nobody has ever beaten your score."
“一直都能用。是我修的。”迪兰深吸了一口气，“从来没有人超过您的分数。”
"Really?" Magnus laughs, and the sound is warm. "I was eighteen. It took me a whole summer. I came to the arcade every day, and I spent all my pocket money on coins."
“真的吗？”马格努斯笑了，笑声很温暖，“那年我十八岁，整整花了一个夏天。我天天往游戏厅跑，零花钱全都换了硬币。”
"Did you take pictures here?"
“您在这里拍过照片吗？”
The laughter fades slowly. Magnus looks at him carefully. "I took one roll. The night before I left for university. I carried my camera everywhere that summer. But I lost the finished roll somewhere in this room, and I never found it again." He pauses. "I still think about it. My friends and I never took a better picture than those."
笑意慢慢退去。马格努斯仔细地打量着他。“我拍过一卷。就在我去上大学的前一晚。那个夏天，我走到哪儿都带着相机。可是拍完的那卷胶卷，我在这间屋子里弄丢了，再也没找到。”他顿了顿，“我至今还会想起它。我和朋友们再也没拍过比那更好的照片。”
Dilan reaches into his pocket and holds out the envelope.
迪兰把手伸进口袋，递出了那个信封。
For a moment, Magnus does not move. Then he takes it with both hands, as if it might fall apart. He opens it. He looks at the first photograph, and then the second. His face changes, quietly, in many small ways.
有那么一会儿，马格努斯一动不动。然后他用双手接了过去，仿佛它随时会散掉。他打开信封，看看第一张照片，又看看第二张。他的脸色悄悄起了变化，有许多细微的地方在变。
"That is Kofi," he says in a low voice. "And that is Sam. We said we would meet here every summer. And then we never did." He touches the picture of himself, and his voice breaks into a smile. "Look at my hair. Who allowed that?"
“这是科菲，”他低声说，“这是萨姆。我们说好了每年夏天都在这里碰面。后来，我们一次也没有。”他的指尖碰了碰自己的那张照片，声音里破出一丝笑意，“瞧瞧我这头发。谁准我留成这样的？”
"The roll was under the air hockey table," Dilan says. "The cleaner found it. The manager wanted to bin it. I took it to the photo shop."
“这卷胶卷是在空气曲棍球桌底下找到的，”迪兰说，“清洁工发现了它。经理想把它扔掉。我就拿去了照相馆。”
Magnus looks up. "Why?"
马格努斯抬起头。“为什么？”
Dilan thinks about the letter in his pocket, and about the nine days he spent not answering it. He thinks about all the people who leave and all the people who stay.
迪兰想起口袋里的那封信，想起自己迟迟没有回复的那九天。他想起了所有离开的人，也想起了所有留下的人。
"I think it wanted to go home," he says.
“我想，它是想回家吧，”他说。
Magnus is silent for a moment. Then he puts the envelope carefully inside his coat. He feels in his other pocket and takes out two coins.
马格努斯沉默了片刻。然后他小心翼翼地把信封放进外套里面，又伸手到另一边口袋里，掏出两枚硬币。
"Show me whether the machine really still works," he says.
“让我看看，这台机器是不是真的还能用，”他说。
Dilan takes the coins, slides them into the slot and presses the start button.
迪兰接过硬币，投进投币口，按下了开始键。
