翻译

原作者:NatVoltaicNatVoltaic

译者:Erwin SchrodingerErwin Schrodinger

原链接: http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/feeling-neurons-dissolve

感觉神经融解

Death sequence:

死亡序列:

The thing is skewered around our auxiliary antenna, penning a tale of woes in whips of cerulean blood. Blues spill from the gashes, fold into spinning fractal glyphs, and drift on the zero-g nothingness away from our vessel.

那个东西正被串在我们的辅助天线旁边,像鞭子一样流淌的湛蓝鲜血书写着凄惨的故事。蓝色的血从伤口涌出,折叠成旋转的分形图样,随后在失重的虚空中飘离我们的飞船。

The halo is small; 3-dimensional. Not as boundless or decorated as those of the matured angels we've seen dip down from Above. It only burns a fraction of a lamp's warmth, instead of blazing the righteous wrath of a supergiant. I can't tell whether it drifts over the head or one of the arm stumps — the thud the thing gave against our hull would've left any skull a smear.

它的光环很小;三维的。那不像我们之前看到的从上面往下沉的成年的天使那样无穷和华丽。它并没有爆发出超巨星般正义辉煌的怒火,只放出了和一盏台灯一样多的热量。我说不清它是从那些头上漂过去还是从这些手臂上过去的——那东西要是砰地一下撞在我们的舰身上,会留下头盖骨大小的污迹。

I pulse the suit thrusters a centimeter forward and it finally takes notice. There is a twitching in one of the gutted organs, one of those sensory structures tuned to perceptions that no number of celestiobiology textbooks could ever let you envision. An eye on the 17th of hundred remaining, non-fractured wings rolls through its cracked socket. The iris blurs into a blue stain. Veins slough free from the cornea, and in some self-sacrificial cry it spurts torrent after torrent of glyph through the blackness around me. I'm surrounded in a veil of shock, of desperation, wild and shocked and scared, scared of why the antenna stings so bad.

我控制推进器向前行进了一厘米,然后它终于注意到了我。那些裸露在外的内脏器官抽搐了一下,其中的一个传感结构放出那些任何神袛生理学课本都不能让你理解的概念。百眼中的第十七只还保存完好,还未折断的翅膀绕着它的破碎球窝翻滚。它的虹膜模糊成蓝色的污迹。静脉从它的角膜上脱落,然后在一阵阵自我牺牲般的尖啸中,它在我四周的黑暗里喷薄出一股股激流般的象形符号。我被绝望、惊惧的帷幕所包围,狂野而恐怖,为天线发生灼热的原因而惧怕。

It falls on deaf minds — I never learned Basic Empyrean.

它在做无用功——我从来没有感受到过哪怕最基础的至高天。

Now the thing writhes. Wings are pulling hard on their sockets at angles impossible and perpendicular from the ship. The spacetime is folding against them hard enough that the friction between every spatial axis is screaming flares of searing violet radiation. Arms are physically bashing into the hull, pushing, contracting every time the scrape of metal against guts sends a jolt of tearful pain.

现在,它因剧痛开始滚动。翅膀在它们的球窝里以一个不可能且垂直于舰船的角度奋力挣扎。时空对它们的压迫是如此巨大,以至于每一个空间轴都在摩擦中发出灼热的紫外辐射暴。它的手臂在猛击舰体,推动,收缩,每一次它的内脏和金属刮擦都传递了一阵极度痛苦的颤动。

The antenna seems yet to be damaged from the affair. Every wing is now thrust back like javelins of divine flame and the body is a torrent of spiking blue auroras. Lacerations shred wide as the force of the push everts guts through the vacuum. Blood crystallizes. Vaporizes. Ionizes. It's bleeding so hard to pry free and the cries resound like psychic jackhammers through my head but it isn't breaking off, it isn't escaping, it isn't healing. Several meters ahead of me the thing burns.

天线看起来要被这件事情毁了。它的每一个翅膀都像是燃烧着神圣火焰的标枪一样掷回,它的身躯则如同湍急奔腾的蓝色极光。它的伤口在推力下逐渐扩大,内脏被压出体外,暴露在真空中。血液在结晶。在蒸发。在离子化。它的血流得非常厉害,却难以获得自由,它的尖啸在我的耳边回响,好像是用一个超常的手提钻钻透我的头颅,但是它的尖啸没有中断,它没能逃脱,它并未自愈。在离我几米之外的地方,它燃烧起来。

I turn on my in-suit speakers, padding the harsh sobs rebounding in my mind with the blanket of nu-Saturnian rhythms, when every psionic shriek cuts quiet.

我打开我的制服内置对讲机,将回荡在我脑海中的刺耳抽泣用无穷尽的新萨图尔努斯诗行的旋律覆盖,随后所有尖啸突兀地归于沉寂。

Cerulean splutters over my visor — I wipe it off. Curled around the antenna, bones clutched around a gaping wound in an unrecognizable body part, is a corpse. Bloodless, lifeless. An embryonic head inches in a last twist to stare my way as its neck comes undone at the tendons.

蔚蓝色的喷溅物覆盖在我的头盔上——我把它擦去。环绕着天线的、骨骼在一个难以辩识的部分身躯的豁开伤口四周张牙舞爪的,是一个尸体。血已流干,生命不存。一个胚胎似的头颅带着最后的扭曲面容,缓缓地向我移动,因为它的脖子的肌肉已然断裂。

My mind hears a whimper — quiet, uncertain, fading. Before it can understand what has happened to itself it is too faint to perceive; it's gone.

我恍惚间听到一声啜泣——安静、若有若无、迅速消逝的啜泣。使它能理解它身上发生了什么的时间太过短暂,令人难以察觉;它已经死了。

There is no more light from the thing. The eyes are as grey as a tomb; still. The skin solidifies; ashen.

它身上光辉不再。它的眼睛如坟墓般晦暗;凝滞。它的皮肤凝固;化为灰烬。

I pulse a thruster over. Reaching into the toolkit by my chest, I flick its latches open, extricating a hacksaw from inside.

我向前推进。我把手伸向胸前的工具箱,弹开插销,将钢锯从里面拿出来。

Raising it through the vacuum, I thrust down and crack a wing off.

将锯子伸入真空,我向下一切,并砍下一片翅翼。

My intercom buzzes right as I get to work sawing off the nearest bundle of clenching arms.

我的对讲机在我正在切下离我最近的一团环抱的手臂的时候适时响起。

« Status? »

« 长官? »

"Fine," I reply. "Thing's dead. Think we need to report it in?"

“没事,”我回答,“它死了。我们需要上报吗?”

« No, no. We've hit larger. Chop it off, run inspection on the antenna, and once it seems set you can get back to engine duty. »

« 不,不用了。我们已经干掉了一个更大的。剁碎它,试运行一下天线,然后只要它看起来工作正常,你就可以回去管轮机了。»

Crunch. The limbs crumble, remnants drifting past me while the dust disperses.

嘎吱。四肢粉碎,粉末飘散,残留的东西从我身边飘过。

"Roger. We're getting close to arrival, right?"

“了解。我们就要到了,是吧?”

« Yes we are. Three more weeks until we reach Ashburn Station port, and our ice shipment will arrive in perfect condition. We've done enough good this way 'round that we deserve the payment. Starting to think now we could even get new cargo compartments for that extra bulk. »

« 是的。再过三星期我们就能到阿森伯恩空间港,然后我们的冰冻载货也会以最好的状态到达。我们这样已经干的够好了,应该得到这么丰厚的报酬。现在想想看,我们说不定还能因为这些额外装货得到新的载货隔间。»

A desiccated third eye splinters.

一个干燥的第三眼粉碎了。

« It'll be worth celebrating over, won't it? »

« 那值得庆祝,不是吗? »

"For sure, for sure."

“当然,当然。”

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

吱嘎,吱嘎,吱嘎。

« Let me know when you get back in — probably a few coolant pipes to be re-welded. Take care out there. »

« 进来的时候告诉我一声——几根冷却剂管道需要重新焊接。到那的时候注意一点。»

"Roger. Thanks."

“收到。谢谢。”

The intercom clicks off.

对讲机关闭了。

I carve against the side of another wing, one of the three which weren't blown apart in that final scramble for home. The remnants are denser here, more compacted around the arteries where liquid daylight once flowed, but this blade alone is enough to do the job. Shouldn't take more than another hour to clear it all out.

我正在切割另一只翅膀的边缘,它是在归乡苦旅的最后爆炸里没有破碎的三个中的一个。残留物在这里更加浓厚密集,在动脉——液态的阳光曾经流过的地方——更加厚实,但是这把锯刃足够完成剩下的工作。不出一小时,我就能完成所有的事情。

Behind me, a trail of ash arcs into the blackness. The dust scatters, from cluster to strand to mote, until, in the time it takes for the saw to complete another motion, the last grain blinks out.

在我身后,一条弧线尘埃带正在隐没入黑暗之中。灰尘散开,从聚集的团块到一条尘埃带,再到一个个小颗粒,直到锯子将要完成下一个动作之时,最终的尘埃光芒闪过。