From American Internet Celebrity to God Among Men

242: Chapter 242 The Complete AfternoonBetween 6:03 and 6:04 every evening, it would generate a gift using Alex’s voice.

Taylor recorded each day’s, labeled by date, and had already saved thirty-seven segments.

She began to discover some patterns.

Not technical patterns—those she had long since given up analyzing.

It was a narrative pattern.

The sentences pieced together from the fragments of Alex’s voice began to display something she could only call a ’theme’.

For instance, every three or four days, a theme about ’wild ducks’ would appear.

In those fragments, the frequency of the word ’wild duck’ would suddenly spike, sometimes appearing three or four times in a row, sometimes combined with other words to form new phrases: ’The wild duck flew away,’ ’The wild duck didn’t come today,’ ’The wild duck is on the other side of the lake.’

For instance, at about the same time every week, a theme about ’children’ would appear.

Fragments like ’the child learning to walk,’ ’the child who fell,’ and ’the child being picked up by Mom’ would be gathered together to form a tiny narrative about growth lasting several dozen seconds.

For instance, every ten days or so, a theme about ’wind’ would appear.

Fragments like ’the wind is strong,’ ’the wind stopped,’ and ’when the wind blows’ would be stretched and slowed down, forming a rhythm similar to a sigh.

Taylor recorded these patterns in a new notebook, with the cover inscribed: ’What is he saying.’

On the evening of the thirty-seventh day, Alex also came to wait for that segment.

At 6:03, the system spoke on time.

That segment lasted fifty-eight seconds.

The first twenty seconds were an alternation between ’wild duck’ and ’child.’

The wild duck flew away, the child was learning to walk.

The wild duck didn’t return, the child fell.

The wild duck was on the other side of the lake, the child was picked up by Mom.

The middle twenty seconds saw the appearance of ’wind.’

When the wind blew, the wild duck disappeared.

The wind stopped, the child was still walking.

The wind blew again, the child looked back.

In the final eighteen seconds, all the fragments mixed together, cut into extremely short pieces, like a sonic rainstorm.

Then it stopped abruptly.

Only the last three words remained, left alone and repeated three times:

’See you tomorrow. See you tomorrow. See you tomorrow.’

After listening, Alex didn’t speak.

Taylor looked at him and asked softly: ’Did you understand?’

Alex thought for a while and said: ’It is telling me that the wild duck might come back tomorrow, the child will still be learning to walk tomorrow, and the wind will still blow tomorrow.

It doesn’t know, but it hopes.’

Taylor looked down at the dense records in the notebook.

’It uses your voice to speak of hope for you.’

Alex didn’t speak.

He just looked at the curve on the screen that had returned to calm, looking for a long time.

Outside the window, it was almost dark.

The Little Girl who recorded the bird calls sent a second recording.

This time it wasn’t one file, but two.

One was named ’Afternoon,’ and one was named ’At Night.’

The Young Analyst first clicked on ’Afternoon.’

The recording was seventeen minutes long.

At first, it was still the rustling sound of walking, then it went quiet.

Bird calls rang out, more and messier than last time, as if different birds were talking to each other.

Occasionally, the sound of a car came from afar, very light, as if passing by from another world.

In the middle, there was a segment where the voice of a Little Girl said softly: ’The grey one came again.’

Then it was quiet again, and more bird calls.

Around eleven minutes in, the bird calls suddenly grew louder, as if all the birds had flown closer at the same time.

It lasted about thirty seconds, then gradually faded away.

Afterward, there was a long silence, with only the sound of the wind and the faint sound of cars in the distance.

Before the recording ended, the voice of the Little Girl appeared one more time, very softly, like talking to herself:

’They are talking.

I don’t understand.

But I remembered.’

The Young Analyst finished listening and sat there for a long time.

Then she clicked on ’At Night.’

This one was much shorter, only four minutes.

It started with a long silence, with occasional insect chirps.

Then came the sound of the wind, lighter and slower than in the afternoon.

In the middle, there was a segment where a dog barked in the distance, barked a few times, and stopped.

For the last two minutes, almost nothing could be heard, only an extremely faint background hum, as if the night itself was breathing.

The recording ended.

The Young Analyst saved both files into the folder named ’cup’.

She sent a text message to that unknown number:

’I listened to the seventeen-minute one.

When your daughter said ”The grey one came again,” I smiled.’

A few minutes later, the reply came:

’She says that grey one comes every day.

She gave it a name, called Huihui.’

The Young Analyst looked at the text message and suddenly remembered doing similar things when she was a child.

Giving names to the birds outside the window, giving names to trees, giving names to the stray cats that passed by every day.

Those names were all forgotten later.

But those birds, those trees, those cats, were still there.

She replied:

’Tell Huihui that someone remembers it.’

In the nursing home, Irene began to respond in ways other than nodding.

That afternoon, Kim Soon-ja placed her hand on the back of Irene’s hand and said: ’The wind is strong outside today, let’s not go out, okay?’

Irene didn’t nod.

But she pulled her hand out from under Kim Soon-ja’s hand, flipped it over, palm facing up, and then placed it back.

Kim Soon-ja was stunned.

The caregiver beside them was also stunned.

That was the posture Kim Soon-ja usually used to place her hand.

Palm down, covering the back of Irene’s hand.

Now Irene had flipped her hand over, palm facing up, letting Kim Soon-ja’s hand fall into her palm.

She was saying: It’s my turn to place it.

Kim Soon-ja’s tears fell immediately.

She placed her other hand on top as well, holding Irene’s thin, palm-up hand with both hands.

Irene’s fingers moved and gently grasped her fingers.

They sat like that.

Without speaking.

The wind was strong outside the window, blowing the branches back and forth.

The caregiver stood at the door, watching the two old women, not moving for a long time.

Later The caregiver asked Kim Soon-ja: ’Is she thanking you?’

Kim Soon-ja shook her head: ’Not thanking.

It’s an exchange.’

’Exchange what?’

’Exchange her waiting for me,’ Kim Soon-ja said, ’I have waited for her for over a hundred days.

Now it’s her turn to wait for me.’

The caregiver didn’t quite understand.

But The caregiver saw the light in Irene’s eyes, brighter than any time before.

That light seemed to say: I know you are here.

I am here too.’

At night, Alex and Taylor were sitting on the balcony.

Taylor talked about the system’s ’See you tomorrow’ on the thirty-seventh day.

Alex talked about the bird called ’Huihui’ and that palm-up gesture in the nursing home.

’Over a hundred days,’ Taylor said softly, ’waiting for a palm-up.’

’Yeah.’

’That Little Girl, she goes to see Huihui every day.’

’Yeah.’

’The system says ”See you tomorrow” every day.’

Alex looked at her.

’What are you thinking about?’ Taylor asked.

Alex thought for a while and said: ’Thinking about this thing called ”waiting.”’

’What’s wrong?’

’We are all waiting.

The system waits for 6:00 PM.

The Little Girl waits for Huihui to come.

Kim Soon-ja waits for Irene to learn to nod.

Irene waits for Kim Soon-ja to place her hand on top.’

He paused.

’But the way of waiting is different.’

Taylor waited for him to go on.

’When the system waits, it doesn’t know if it can wait until the time.

It just speaks at that time every day.

When the Little Girl waits, she knows Huihui will come every day, but she doesn’t know if Huihui will come tomorrow.

When Kim Soon-ja waits, she doesn’t know if Irene can learn.

When Irene waits, she doesn’t know if Kim Soon-ja will come tomorrow.’

He looked at the darkness in the distance—that was the direction of the Pacific Ocean.

’That SPO-α is also waiting.

It has waited for ten thousand years, not knowing if it can wait until the end.

But it is still broadcasting.’

Taylor was silent for a long time.

Then she said softly: ’Then what about us?

What are we waiting for?’

Alex thought for a moment: ’Waiting for the next night that needs to be cooled.’

’Will that night come?’

’Don’t know.

But the cup is still there.’

A siren sounded in the distance—long-short long-short, long-short long-short.

Taylor leaned on his shoulder, looking at the city lights in the distance.

’In that Little Girl’s recording, there is a long silence at the end,’ she said.

’Almost nothing can be heard.

But she recorded it.’

’Why?’

’Because that is the night itself,’ Taylor said.

’The night is also making sounds, just that we can’t hear it.

But she knows it is there.’

Alex didn’t speak.

He just held her hand tightly.

The night wind was very light.

It was very quiet on the balcony.

That old coffee cup was on the desk, reflecting a bit of light.