Zha cremated the doctor's body.
At the funeral, many people came to pay their respects. Many of them are of the younger generation and have known doctors living in this neighborhood for as long as they can remember. People remembered him, came forward to say goodbye to him one by one, and then started the ignition. He burned the body carefully, crushing all the large bone fragments, and then sank it into the nearest burial pit.
That would still be many years away. When the burial wells were full, the sediments inside were fished out and filled into mud and sand fields for planting. By that time the doctor's spirit had gone far away.
Zha did not demolish the hut near the mountain, although all the white paper and metal blocks that were usually placed on the table before the doctor died were gone. There was nothing of value in the house except the precious darkness that allowed people to contemplate and recall the past.
In order to open a larger workshop, he moved closer to the market. There, life became ordinary for a while, and there was nothing strange to say. Outside the house, there was no longer the strange whistling wind that passed through the grotto, only the broken ice hitting the stone bank along the current, making a monotonous and crisp sound. Zha's craftsmanship improved rapidly and he gained some fame.
A few years after that, the collectors came again. They were more meticulous and harsh than any group in living memory. No one was appointed as a regional representative; these men with metal bones went from house to house in person. It is thought that their electric eyes can see through walls and floors, so nothing can be hidden.
Someone try to explain when caught. Two or three crystal oscillators were not illegal in previous years and were just a reasonable reserve for repairing sound tubes and other basic equipment. But the collectors reminded him through their actions that private collection was never in line with the rules. If anyone was not held accountable for such behavior in the past, it was only a moment of mercy. And to take this forgiveness as a natural right would be shameless and profoundly wrong.
On that day, whether it was the miners who had four breaks a day, or the carvers and plumbers who had two breaks a day, all the residents kept their doors and windows closed, as if the whole day had become a break. The wind outside the house was like a scream, far and near, echoing high in the sky, covering up the crisp sound of ice floes colliding. Zha did not allow his children to remove the tool boards hanging on the wall and put their eyes into the cracks in the wall behind them, even though they could only see the scene on the ground and not what was happening in the black sky.
After the wind stopped for a long time, people finally walked out of the house. They saw that only a faint red color was left in the running water, while the ice floe was full of dark pits of blood. They used poles to stir up the ice floe so that the water could wash away the blackened particles.
People wonder why: if Krishna has become more irritable than before and is therefore collecting more. And if such rigorous collection is inevitable, they must know how long it will last. Lighting is not necessary. Although the land in some places does not glow, if there is no crystal oscillator, soft gold and iron, there will be no crystal diaphragm and sound tube. No electricity. No igniter or heating. There is no growing greenhouse.
One day, the collectors walked into Zha's workshop next to his house. At that time, Zha was working with his sons to make the inner core of the sound tube. Three people with metal exoskeletons pushed open the door and passed through a rotating machine that continuously twisted thin gold wire circles and a rolling stream of heated iron.
Zha's eldest son is holding a long pipe and blowing a glass shell for the interface. He looked up and saw the leader walking towards him. There was an eye in the middle of his face. The pupil was only the size of a needle and glowed red, like blood seeping into a hole in the ice. He puffed up his cheeks as he watched the other person approach. The glass tube expanded into a glass ball.
The leader sat down on the top of the rotating machine in front of him, stretched out his metal-coated fingers, took the red glass ball off the blowpipe, and let it roll on several fingers in turn. This person's face is also a flat and seamless piece of alloy, with no other holes visible except for the eyes. When people look at this face, they cannot see any expression on this person, but can see how panicked they are on the flat metal surface.
Zha pulled the eldest son away from the three searchers and handed over the bag that had been placed in the corner. He is not a collector who makes a living, so it is easier to hand over the raw materials stored in the workshop. When the leader looked to the other side, he also pushed the shipping box with the sound tubes over.
Even by the strictest standards, that should satisfy searchers. But the leader still sat there, placed the cooled glass ball on the ground, and stepped on it gently with his feet.
An electric current jumped in the glass ball. The piercing light forced Zha to open his eyes, remembering the terrifying wrath of Krishna that he had seen in his childhood. Although the leader's fingers are completely covered with metal bones, the joints are very flexible. He gestures faster than flesh and blood.
You didn't live here originally? the leader asked.
Many people know the answer. Zha had to admit it. Then he was asked about his original address and why he wanted to move. Everything is open and simple, and there is no benefit in hiding it.
He responded to all the questions cautiously, wondering what their significance was. Collectors have been less than pleased with local harvests over the past few years. They said that compared with other areas, the annual mineral supply here is 20 to 30% less, but the population is no different. They also found that despite the large number of collectors, there always seemed to be fewer people returning from here every time.
Zha hung his head humbly and put his hands on his knees, indicating that he could not answer these questions. The amount turned in is always at the discretion of the collector, who does not know how the local area differs from other areas. He also didn't know if there were fewer collectors. It is believed that their number is infinite.
As he gestured, two attendants kept a close eye on his children. The leader stared at him with flashing eyes, moving back and forth between his chest and face. Zha also knew that they could see through false answers.
The collectors were gone. The next day the chariots were seen flying to the high ground to collect minerals from other houses. No one was openly happy because everyone knew those eyes could see through walls.
There were not enough raw materials in Zha's workshop, and there were no finished sound tubes. He had nothing to exchange for in the market, and others had nothing to exchange for him. Fortunately the foragers never ask for food. No one saw them eating or drinking.
While waiting for the miners to return to the market, he shut down his workshop to save electricity. He spent more time resting in the house and listening to the collision of ice floes outside. He worries about his sister's family, who live on the edge of the Highlands, and continues to have turbulent dreams. Memories of his childhood stirred in his mind, and the doctor's featureless, emotionless face flashed intermittently amidst the sound of ice cubes hitting each other.
He dreamed of some images that he had not paid special attention to. The sister stood at the table playing with insects in the bottle. The doctor sat in the corner and observed her coldly. He held the white paper between his fingers and folded it over and over.
The strange thing is that Zha realized in his dream that he had never seen used paper or discarded paper in the single house. All the paper on the table is new, without a single crease. Paper. Paper as smooth and bright as metal. He once saw a child using his fingernails to carve on paper, but he couldn't remember what kind of picture it ended up being.
He also dreamed of the doctor's death. For an older person, it was a peaceful and dignified way to die. It didn't seem to be death, but simply leaving the house, out of sight of Zha and everyone around him. He still lives far away from the crowd, does not go to the market, does not buy food, and never opens the door to those who pursue love.
In other dreams, the doctor seems to be dead all the time. The corpse was lifeless, sitting in a narrow room all day long, just like Zha who became a sound plumber. The dead man's gaze came from the corner, staring at him and his sister for a long time. He kept looking at them like a ghost who had never laid eyes upon his eyes. It is believed that the black sky is crowded with such fools, all of whom are constantly staring at the glowing earth.
Why don't you close your eyes? Zha asked in his dream.
The doctor smiled. That was the nameless and cunning smile he showed two days before his death. Then Zha heard the most terrifying and unforgettable sound he had ever heard in his childhood. The heavy sound of the hammer on the human soul, the wrath of the black sky that swept away all colors.
Zha woke up in bed. He heard a violent noise, like a mine collapse. Smoke was billowing from his door - the remnants of what had once been a door. Three searchers walked in behind the choking smoke.
He wanted to make a gesture. But it was held down. The leader wrapped his wrist with metal-coated fingers and gently tightened it. His wrist bones were shattered. They dragged him out and tied his ankles to a chain. He didn't see anything clearly, and then a huge force pulled his feet up, towards the terrible angry black sky. His legs were broken and his body seemed to be torn apart.
The chariot fell back to the ground. At this time Zha could hardly think of anything. After an unknown amount of time, the burning and severe pain reminded him of his identity.
He saw the gleaming red needle-like eyes and the dead face reflected from the smooth face, which was naturally his own face. The returning collectors gestured to him. But Zha couldn't understand the word. The concept of "arrest" never entered his mind at that time.
The leader threw him at the back of the chariot and gave him another explanation.
You are going to die somewhere else. He told Zha with gestures.
