The Two Lamps in the Binoculars

Frida had one rule about the old binoculars in the drawer. Nobody touched them until the last visitor had gone home.

关于抽屉里那副旧望远镜，弗丽达有一条规矩：最后一位访客回家之前，谁也不许碰它。

Caspian had worked at the observatory for six weeks, and he had not yet seen them used. They were heavy and black, with brass rings round the lenses. Whenever he cleaned the office, he lifted them out, polished them and put them back. Frida always watched him do it with a small, odd smile.

卡斯皮安在天文台工作了六个星期，还从没见人用过它。那副望远镜又重又黑，镜头周围镶着黄铜圈。每次打扫办公室，他都会把它拿出来，擦亮，再放回去。弗丽达总是带着一抹古怪的小微笑看着他做这些。

"Why can't I try them?" he asked once.

“为什么我不能试试？”他有一次问。

"Not yet," Frida said. "They are not for open nights. They are for after open nights."

“还不行，”弗丽达说，“它们不是用在开放夜的。它们是开放夜之后才用的。”

Tonight was the biggest open night of the year. The sky was clear, and the car park on the hill was already full by seven o'clock. Families walked up the path with flasks and blankets. Children ran ahead with paper star maps. Caspian stood at the door in his blue jacket and counted people until he lost count.

今晚是一年里最盛大的开放夜。天空晴朗，山上的停车场到七点就已经满了。一家家人带着保温壶和毯子走上小路。孩子们拿着纸星图跑在前面。卡斯皮安穿着蓝色夹克站在门口数人，数着数着就数乱了。

The main telescope stood under the great dome. Frida had pointed it at Saturn, and the queue reached all the way to the stairs. Caspian's job was to move people along. He had to keep them happy while they waited. He also had to stop them touching the mirror.

主望远镜立在大穹顶下。弗丽达把它对准了土星，队伍一直排到楼梯口。卡斯皮安的工作是让大家往前走。他得让人们在等待时保持开心，还得阻止他们碰镜子。

"Is that really Saturn?" asked a small girl near the front.

“那真的是土星吗？”靠前的一个小女孩问。

"It really is," Caspian said. "The light you will see has travelled for more than an hour to reach us."

“真的是，”卡斯皮安说，“你将要看到的光，走了一个多小时才到我们这里。”

"Then it's old," the girl said.

“那它很老了，”女孩说。

"Very old," he said. "But it still looks fresh when it arrives."

“非常老，”他说，“不过到达的时候看上去还是很新鲜。”

She seemed to like that answer. She climbed the little steps, looked into the eyepiece and stayed there far too long. Her mother had to lift her away. Her mouth was open, and she did not say anything for a full minute.

她似乎喜欢这个回答。她爬上小台阶，把眼睛凑到目镜上，一看就看了太久。她妈妈只好把她抱开。她的嘴巴张着，整整一分钟没说话。

By ten o'clock Caspian's feet ached. The last family left at a quarter to eleven, carrying a sleepy boy on a shoulder. The dome fell quiet, and the cooling machines hummed softly in the walls.

到十点钟，卡斯皮安的脚已经酸了。最后一家人在十点四十五分离开，肩上扛着一个昏昏欲睡的男孩。穹顶安静下来，墙里的冷却机器轻轻嗡鸣。

Frida switched off the big lights. In the dark she said, "Now. Bring the binoculars."

弗丽达关掉了大灯。在黑暗中她说：“现在。把望远镜拿来。”

Caspian hurried to the office and returned with the heavy case. His hands were not quite steady. Frida led him outside to the stone terrace, where the whole night sky stretched over the valley.

卡斯皮安匆匆跑到办公室，抱着沉重的盒子回来。他的手有点不稳。弗丽达带他走到外面的石头露台上，整片夜空在山谷上方铺展开来。

"Before you look," she said, "I must explain something. These binoculars do not show you stars."

“你看之前，”她说，“我得解释一件事。这副望远镜不是用来看星星的。”

"What do they show?" Caspian asked.

“那它让人看什么？”卡斯皮安问。

"Other watchers," Frida said. "Somewhere far away, people stand on their own hills at night, and they look at the sky too. Through this glass, you can see their lamps."

“别的守望者，”弗丽达说，“在很远的地方，有人夜里站在自己的山头上，也在看着天空。透过这块玻璃，你能看见他们的灯。”

Caspian laughed. Then he saw that she was not joking. He lifted the binoculars to his eyes.

卡斯皮安笑了。随后他发现她不是在开玩笑。他把望远镜举到眼前。

At first, he saw only the usual black and silver. Then, slowly, something changed. Among the stars he found tiny points of light that were not quite stars. They were warmer. They blinked, and each one had its own rhythm. There were dozens of them, scattered like fireflies over the whole sky.

起初，他只看见平常的黑与银。然后，慢慢地，有什么变了。在群星之间，他发现了一些细小的光点，不太像星星。它们更温暖。它们一闪一闪，每一个都有自己的节奏。有几十个，像萤火虫一样散布在整片天空中。

"They're beautiful," he whispered.

“真美，”他低声说。

"They are lonely," Frida said gently. "That is why we have the torch."

“它们很孤单，”弗丽达轻轻地说，“所以我们才有手电筒。”

She handed him a small, plain torch from her pocket. "The glass carries one answer a night. You choose one lamp and flash a message to it. Then the glass goes dark until tomorrow. I have used it thirty-one times, and I have always chosen carefully."

她从口袋里掏出一支朴素的小手电筒递给他。“这块玻璃一夜只能传一个回答。你选一盏灯，向它闪一条信息。然后玻璃就会变暗，直到明天。我用过三十一次，每次都选得很慎重。”

"How do I choose?" Caspian asked.

“我该怎么选？”卡斯皮安问。

"I can't tell you," Frida said. "I can only tell you that tonight I will not say a word."

“我没法告诉你，”弗丽达说，“我只能告诉你，今晚我不会说一个字。”

She sat on a low wall and folded her arms.

她在一堵矮墙上坐下，抱起了双臂。

Caspian looked again. Most of the lamps were faint and flickering. Two of them were different. One hung low over the eastern hills, big and golden, and it burned steadily like a lighthouse. The other lay far away to the north. It was small and pale. It blinked three short times and then one long time, over and over.

卡斯皮安又看了一遍。大多数灯都微弱而闪烁。其中有两盏不一样。一盏低低地悬在东边的群山上，又大又金黄，像灯塔一样稳稳地燃烧。另一盏远在北方，小小的，颜色苍白。它闪三下短的，再闪一下长的，一遍又一遍。

Both seemed like good choices. That was the trouble.

两盏看起来都是不错的选择。麻烦就在这儿。

He studied the golden lamp first. It was so bright that his eyes watered, and its light felt friendly. When he looked longer, he noticed thin threads of light rising towards it from other places. Other watchers were already answering it. The sky around that lamp was crowded with replies, flashing and flickering.

他先仔细看那盏金色的灯。它亮得让他的眼睛流泪，它的光让人觉得亲切。看得更久一点，他注意到有细细的光线从别的地方向它升起。别的守望者已经在回应它了。那盏灯周围的天空挤满了回复，闪烁不停。

"That one is popular," he said.

“那一盏很受欢迎，”他说。

"Yes," Frida said from the wall.

“是啊，”弗丽达在墙边说。

"It must be a good place," he said. "If I answer, they will see me for sure. And I will join the others."

“那一定是个好地方，”他说，“要是我回应它，他们肯定会看到我。而且我会加入其他人。”

"That is true," Frida said.

“没错，”弗丽达说。

He turned to the small lamp in the north. Nothing rose towards it. No threads of light, no replies, and no crowd. It simply blinked three short and one long, as if it were asking a question. Then it asked again.

他转向北边那盏小灯。没有任何东西朝它升起。没有光线，没有回复，也没有人群。它只是闪着三短一长，像在提问。然后又问了一遍。

Caspian lowered the binoculars and rubbed his eyes. His hands were cold. "How long has it been asking?" he said.

卡斯皮安放下望远镜，揉了揉眼睛。他的手很冷。“它问了多久了？”他说。

"I don't know," Frida said. "I have seen it three times this year. It was there last night, too."

“我不知道，”弗丽达说，“今年我见过它三次。昨晚它也在那里。”

"And no one has answered?"

“一直没有人回答？”

"No one that I have seen," she said.

“我没见过有人回答，”她说。

He thought about the golden lamp, which was strong and happy and sure of itself. It did not need him. It would shine tomorrow, and it would shine the next day. A hundred other watchers would flash their torches before dawn.

他想着那盏金色的灯，强大、快乐、对自己很有把握。它不需要他。它明天会亮，后天也会亮。天亮之前，还会有上百个守望者向它闪动手电筒。

Then he thought about the small lamp. Three short, one long. It had asked the same question all evening, like someone knocking on a door.

然后他又想着那盏小灯。三短一长。它整个晚上都在问同一个问题，像有人在敲门。

"If I choose the golden one," he said slowly, "I know I will be one of many. It would be nice, but I would be easy to forget. If I choose the small one, I might be the first."

“要是我选金色的，”他慢慢地说，“我知道我只是众多回应中的一个。那样挺好，但我很容易被忘记。要是我选小的，我也许会是第一个。”

"The first to do what?" Frida asked.

“第一个做什么？”弗丽达问。

"To say we heard," he said.

“第一个说我们听到了，”他说。

He raised the binoculars again and found the pale lamp. He held the torch against the lens, as Frida showed him with a nod, and pressed the button. He flashed three short times. Then he held the light for one long breath.

他再次举起望远镜，找到那盏苍白的灯。他按弗丽达点头示意的那样，把手电筒贴在镜片上，按下按钮。他闪了三下短的。然后他把光亮保持了一次长长的呼吸。

For a moment, nothing changed. The lamp kept blinking its usual pattern. Caspian's stomach dropped.

有那么一会儿，什么也没有变。那盏灯继续闪着它惯常的节奏。卡斯皮安的心一沉。

Then the small lamp stopped. It stayed dark for two whole seconds. Suddenly it flared twice, very fast, bright as a struck match.

接着小灯停了。它整整两秒钟一片漆黑。突然它闪亮了两下，飞快，亮得像擦着的火柴。

Caspian gasped. The lamp flared again, and the binoculars went suddenly heavy and cold in his hands. The golden lamp and all the other lights vanished. There was only the plain night sky and the stars.

卡斯皮安倒吸一口气。那盏灯又闪了一下，望远镜在他手里忽然变得又沉又冷。金色的灯和所有其他的光都消失了。只剩下普普通通的夜空和星星。

"It saw me," he said. His voice shook. "Frida, it saw me. Did you see that?"

“它看见我了，”他说，声音在发抖，“弗丽达，它看见我了。你看到了吗？”

"I saw your face," Frida said. She stood up, and she was smiling properly now. "That was enough."

“我看到了你的脸，”弗丽达说。她站起身，这回笑得真心实意。“那就够了。”

"Why did you never tell me which one to choose?" Caspian asked.

“你为什么从来不告诉我该选哪一盏？”卡斯皮安问。

"Because now," Frida said, "whatever it is asking, you are the one who answered."

“因为现在，”弗丽达说，“不管它在问什么，回答它的人是你。”