短篇故事《污水》
I awoke to find dusk nearly fallen, my fingers grazing the phone screen in a haze. A dull irritability crept in—mealtime, again.
“No particular cravings. Just go with the classic KFC order,” I muttered to myself, fingers moving with practiced ease through the food delivery app. But instead of a menu, I was greeted by a maintenance notice. Annoyed, I cycled through other apps—same result. I wasn't interested in food anyway, but biology doesn't negotiate. Grudgingly, I rolled out of bed in search of sustenance. Threw on a random track jacket, couldn’t find sneakers, settled for slippers. Pulled open the curtains. A cool-toned sky and a wave of heat struck me. I flipped off the air above me and stepped out the door without a backward glance.
“Elevator’s down again?” I mumbled, cursing the building’s incompetent management. One elevator, three or four breakdowns a month—each worse than the last. Today, even the lights were dead. “If I didn’t live on the twenty-fifth floor, I’d take the stairs,” I scoffed. In the pitch black, I imagined the scowl on my face—and chuckled.
I finally reached the ground floor. Not a soul on the path to the gate. “Must be June’s punishing heat,” I thought. “People holed up indoors, unwilling to brave the sun.”
But even the guard was gone. The absurd cost of property management made a mockery of the service—or lack thereof. “Sucker,” I thought, picturing the word printed across my forehead. Still, I was already outside, might as well put grievances on hold. I walked toward the restaurant I usually ordered from.
“It’s unusually quiet,” I muttered. It wasn’t just the near-empty neighborhood—there were no diners, no laughing children, no flustered waitstaff, no hiss of oil meeting pan, no splash of tea into porcelain.
It was as if everyone had vanished.
No, it was as if they had died. As if their decaying bodies had been piled up in some remote crevice of the world, sealing in all stench and clamor—leaving the rest of the earth eerily still. Deathly still.
That’s when the world stopped making sense. My clothes clung to me softly, yet I felt naked. My thoughts were molasses. Still, I knew I had to run. I fled the restaurant—only to find nowhere to go. From the subway tunnel, a thick, murky liquid surged upward, oozing like drool from the maw of some enormous beast, ready to dissolve me whole.
I’ve never had a strong survival instinct. If escape was possible, I’d run. But if not—then let it end in silence. I stood, motionless, waiting for the liquid to reach me. I watched it swallow my feet, then rise to claim my body.
If diving alone is a voluntary descent into silence, this was the imposed muting of the masses—dense, suffocating, more unbearable than the humid hush of summer rain.
And yet—I was still alive.
Incredible. I didn’t know whether to be grateful or dread what deeper pain this continued existence might bring. So I let the sewage carry me, drifting toward the unknown.
No focal point emerged in the boundless green. The only variations were in the liquid’s hue—light or dark depending on depth. Eventually, familiar forms began to emerge.
A railing, rusted and furred with moss, stood out. Through the rot, I recognized it: the subway platform’s fence. “So I didn’t drift far from the restaurant after all. Almost thought I’d crossed into another dimension,” I joked to myself, oddly reassured by the grotesque.
Being alive numbed my fear of solitude in a public space. I did my best not to imagine beasts lurking in the murk behind me. “Please don’t let anything tap me on the shoulder,” I begged the void. I no longer yearned for life—just an end to the irrational, a truce with the unknowable. The world vanishing and covered in sewage was already surreal enough.
I could be silent, but I couldn’t lose movement. Comfort meant death. I knew that. So I didn’t linger. I swam forward, toward the security checkpoint—intent on finding the source of this flood.
My forearms, flabby from disuse, flapped weakly in the water. I cursed myself for not building muscle when I had the chance. The drag of the liquid made every gesture an ordeal. Still, I made it past the gate. Hair floated in front of me—fine strands suspended like seaweed. I didn’t flinch outwardly, but my mind shrieked.
“Hair?! Whose hair?!”
If I’d been on land, I’d have leapt in panic. But here, in this viscous, unknowable world, I was a fly with clipped wings. I flailed faster, though my speed barely changed.
“Damn this resistance,” I growled.
The water thickened. Vision faded. Navigating by memory alone—what I could recall of the subway’s layout—grew increasingly difficult. “Just get to the stairs,” I told myself. “Just reach the stairs.”
And I did. Eventually. My limbs ached from mechanical paddling. Then—more hair. And a realization. It was mine.
I froze.
Fingers ran over my own body. Then the words struck me, like a chime in an empty bell tower: emaciated.
My hand brushed my cheek. The hollows and folds. The sunken eyes.
No mistake. No mistake.
I stopped swimming. Only murmured those words, over and over.
No mistake.
The moss on the railing. The failing strength in my arms.
It had all been there.
This was no alien substance. No toxic spill. The sewage was us. All of us.
The light dimmed. My connection to the world grew brittle. I knew the outcome had long been sealed, knew the pace of change was quickening—and all I could do was witness it in silence, until I too was undone, unmade, and folded into the noiseless flow of time.
一觉起来，触摸手机屏幕才发现时间已近黄昏。浑浑噩噩的只觉得一阵烦躁——又到饭点了！
“没有特别想吃的就点肯德基经典款吧。”我一边想着一边熟练的打开外卖软件，却在加载时被告知系统正在维修。真是有够苦恼，换了一家又一家都是这种情况。对食物不感兴趣，可为了满足细胞需要只好不情愿的下床准备出门补充能量。随便去衣柜披了件运动外套，找不到运动鞋索性就穿凉拖。拉开窗帘透出了室外的光线，放眼望去只有充满冷调的天空和扑面而来的热气，我朝上空竖了根中指便头也不回离开了房门。
“电梯怎么又出问题了？”我默默吐槽着物业的不靠谱。一座电梯一个月出了三四次小问题，一次比一次离谱，今天倒是连灯也出故障。“如果不是因为住在二十五楼，我倒是宁愿走楼梯。”我撇撇嘴，在黑灯瞎火下幻想着我不爽的表情，一不小心笑出声来。
终于到了一楼，直至小区门口路上也一个人都没有。我暗想着一定是六月的天气太毒辣，恐的人都宅家里不愿意出门潇洒。
可是保安怎么也不在？廉价的服务将昂贵的物业费衬托的不值一提，此刻我只觉得自己脸上写着“冤大头”三个字。再想着门都出了就先将杂事搁置一边吧，我不再观察，只是一路走向常在软件点单的那家餐厅。
“今天安静的反常。”我在心里嘀咕着。倘若只是小区人数寥寥无几倒也可以理解，可本该是人声鼎沸的餐厅却也丝毫见不到什么人影。没有大快朵颐的食者、没有欢声笑语的小孩、没有手忙脚乱的服务员、没有因菜与油接触产生的气声、没有茶壶倾斜倒入杯子里的水流扑腾声。
像消失至死了一样。
对，就像是死了一样。像腐烂的尸体集体堆积在世界某处那样，所有的恶臭吵闹都被封禁在了那处地方，而其余都是寂静，死一般的寂静。
到这，我突然感觉不太真实。衣物的柔软包裹着我，我却只觉得赤身露体，脑子像浆糊似的。但我还似乎知道要跑。我跑出了餐厅，却发现无处容我再跑。浑浊的液体从地铁通道里源源不断的涌向地面，像巨兽狰狞大嘴留下的口水那般快要把我腐蚀掉。
我不是一个求生欲望很强的人，有机会我会跑。但如果是死局，就让我沉默的接受好了。我静待液体流向不再走动的我，目睹它覆盖住我的双脚直至淹没我的身心。
如果独自潜水是个人选择带来的降噪体验，那被液体包裹着的世界所产生的降噪感就像是集体的被迫选择。如此的沉闷，比夏日小雨带来的潮闷还令人难以忍受。
...
我却还活着。
难以置信。不知是否该庆幸自己捡回条命，亦或是这种“活着”不过是在被动的等待“更痛苦”的降临。我不大清楚，只是任由污水将我推向不知名处。
我在无垠绿色里找不到视线聚焦点，依稀能分辨出来的也不过是液体在远近上所展现出的深跟浅。终于在流向未知的一定程度上看见了某些熟悉的事物。
栏杆扶手已然有些生锈，苔藓附着再上边增添了它的年代感，但依稀可见它原来的面貌——是地铁的围栏。“原来离餐厅并没有多远啊，差点以为来到了异世界！”我暗想着，并侥幸这奇怪的液体只是让我有点使不上力。
还活着的幸运让我忽视了在公众场所下只剩我一人而产生的不安感。我尽量避免胡思乱想那些可能潜伏在深处或者是背后会出现的庞然大物。“拜托不要有东西拍我的肩！”到这儿我连活物都不再期望，只希望不会发生对一名地球人来说超出常理的未知恐吓，毕竟世界被污水覆盖且群众消失这件事就已经够颠覆认知了。
可以沉默，但不能失去可以行动的行动。我深知处在熟悉的舒适圈里只会让我离死亡更近，所以并未在此处过多停留。继续往里游吧，游向安检通道，我决定去探索液体的源头。
前臂的皮肤在上肢的大力挥动下显得很松弛，我可惜着过去没花时间好好锻炼肌肉，以至于在这种特殊时刻看上去就像只可以任人宰割的菜鸡。水的阻力让一切活动变得困难起来，但终于还是游过了闸机入口。根根细发飘浮在我面前，虽然面不改色我心里却慌了神。“怎么会有头发啊！哪儿来的头发啊！”要是在平坦的地面上我早就一蹦三尺高，可处在不知状况的水域，我只是像只进退两难的无头苍蝇。索性立刻加快了摆手的频率，游泳的速度却愈发缓慢起来。“该死的阻力！”我咬牙切齿的想着。
水越来越浑浊，视线随着游动的深入变得更加模糊，仅凭过去坐地铁记忆找方位的我都变得有些吃不消。快点找到楼梯！这是我有且仅剩的念头。
终究是找到了通向地铁站的楼梯，在数次麻木的机械摆手下疲乏早已布满了全身。再次看见浮现在眼前的头发，才后知后觉这头发的拥有者来源于自己。
陡然意识到什么，我开始触碰自己的肉体。几乎是在电光火石间，“骨瘦嶙峋”四个字映入我的脑海；摸上自己的脸颊，面部的沟壑和突出的眼袋又加深了我的想法。不会有错了，不会有错了。我停下了游动的步伐，只是一个劲念叨着这话。栏杆上的青苔、逐渐使不上力气的身体。一切是那么有迹可循。浑浊的污水原来不是什么有毒的不明液体，原来我们都一样。
视野能及的空间逐渐变得昏暗，身体与世界的联结感也变得摇摇欲坠。我明白乾坤已定，明白变化的速度还在增快，而我有且能做的只是沉默的感受这一切，直至被分解于无声光阴。