ethereal wings

family

Bloodline

"Do you remember the question you asked me in the Society's library in February 1762?" said Copernicus, whose clothes adorned with Polish national embroidery complemented the interior of the Polish Pavilion's main building.A pot of tea was smoking lazily on the stove, and Bruno, who was in charge of making the tea, had fallen asleep lying on the table next to him.Copernicus looked back at the dozing child, took the teapot off the stove, and put his coat on little Bruno.

"The question of purely mechanical or purely spiritual?" Descartes said.He picked up his freshly filled glass and thanked his host for his hospitality.

Copernicus smiled, "From your uncertain expression, it seems that you haven't thought about this question for a long time—you should have already got the answer. Don't, don't tell me your answer, I'm just here Let me tell you what I understand: that is, we are still the same as human beings. At a deep level, we still need what we used to expect: food, rest... Of course, it is not limited to these superficial substances.”

Descartes was silent for a while, acquiescing to the answer. "As a matter of fact, another matter I was thinking about at the end of 1762 I thought I had also reached the theoretical end, and all that was needed was practical confirmation."

"Is it another possible form of contract? Last time I tried to visit your residence to get your answer, but I seem to have gone too early..." Copernicus said softly, he looked back and was still confused Confused Bruno.

"You didn't come early, it was already one o'clock in the afternoon. I got up too late..." Descartes said with shame, "As for this form of contract of unilateral grant, I think that this contract is different from the traditional The difference between the 'marriage' contract is that it affects the two parties who signed it unequally. For the giver of the 'page', the remaining memoirs in his body will strive to restore integrity, so the giver should be in the To a certain extent, it is as close as possible to where his 'page' goes, that is, the recipient of the 'page'; but for the recipient of the 'page', this contract has little effect."

"Do you think that such a contract has never been attempted by a memoir materialized individual, Mr. Descartes?"

"I understand that in the long history of the association, the possibility of such a contract has been considered with a high probability; however, there is no trace of such a contract in all records, and I think that perhaps it is the inequality of this type of contract. caused it to be abandoned."

"I believe that there are memoir materialized individuals who are willing to be the giver of such a unilaterally given contract...and I fully agree with your prediction of such a contract..." Copernicus hesitated to speak, because he just woke up Bruno stood up and walked a few steps before lying on top of him. "Giordano is like this at this time of year, always dizzy all day long..."

"Do you imply that such contracts have already been tried?" Descartes asked tentatively.

Copernicus did not answer Descartes. "Let Mr. Pascal go with you when you come next time. Giordano also hopes to meet someone who can talk without looking up."

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A drop of candle tear slid down the candle again.It was already late at night, and there were shadows of trees outside the window. Occasionally, a few black shadows passed by, leaving behind a few indistinguishable calls.Descartes was wearing pajamas and a blanket, sitting at the desk, but he didn't feel sleepy at all.

Every time he sees women with children on the streets of Paris, he will take a look at them; when he meets cute little girls, he can't help but buy them some candy, although most of the time these little girls will watch with vigilance. This uncle of unknown origin.In the association, there are not many opportunities to see memoirs who are physically younger in appearance, but whenever he sees them, he will inevitably forget the essence in their young bodies and step forward to take care of them.Furnishing Pascal's new bedroom had cost him most of the salary he'd earned over the years at the Society, but he didn't mind.

Should I be such a person?No, he is a self-centered, arrogant, vindictive person: he has almost no contact with his relatives, and he has few close friends; Take words like "shit" or "ass wipes."Cowardice and changeability are also his hobbies: Galileo had just been examined by the Inquisition, and he had already deleted all the sensitive words in his book with lightning speed. The so-called scientific belief is actually worthless in front of life-saving value.

However, it seemed that at a certain moment in his life, everything about him changed fundamentally. At the end of 1634 he took up residence at the home of his friend Sjotte in Amsterdam.The landlady's housekeeper, Helena Yass, appeared in front of him at this moment.Even people who are out of the world can hardly resist the fragrance of love. On October 10th, they had a wonderful day.When he went to his old home in Derwent Town, she went with him, and at this time, a little life was born in their lives.

"France," they named their daughter.

In the 17th century, it was a felony to have a child without being married, and though he spared no effort to keep it a secret, he acknowledged the child as his own when he christened it.The huge difference in social status did not allow the two of them to be officially together, and in the following years, the lovers and their daughter, using the pretext of master-servant relationship and the master's niece, this strange little family moved around the Netherlands.Although wandering around, there has never been so much happiness.

He remembered the moment when he opened the door, Helena walked over holding Franc. Franc was still so young, she stretched out her little hand to touch Dad's rough face, babbling and babbling. say.He also remembered that when France grew up day by day and could no longer lie down in the cradle, he and Helena sat by the fire and thought about their daughter's future education together, so he quickly wrote a letter to his relatives ...

It would be great if everything was as they thought... Descartes leaned back on the chair, watching the bedroom door suddenly open, and Frans ran in like a gust of wind. She had become a slim young girl with long black curly hair As bright as her father, with an elegant figure no different from her mother, with her long skirt flying behind her, she flung herself into her father's arms with a smile.Maybe France will grow up soon, maybe she will marry far away in a while, how sad he and Helena will be...

A cold night wind blew open the bedroom door, and the candle flame struggled and went out.He sat there, facing only the black shadow outside the door.

France, already in September 1640, when she was only 9 years old, contracted scarlet fever and left them forever.

The candle was lit again.Descartes looked blankly at the paper in front of him, which was still about unilaterally granting a contract.It was only then that he realized that for so many years, he had been exploring the mystery of the contract of the materialized individual of the memoir, in fact, he was trying to make up for the defect that the materialized individual of the memoir could not reproduce. He had been looking for his family, and hoped to find some indestructible way to make He doesn't lose them anymore... The "marriage" contract is too deep, he just wants to find a way, even if he gives everything and gets nothing in return... Now, he is willing to give this he found This form of contract unilaterally gave the "page" a name: bloodline contract...

This is the end of the research, he thought, and he must suppress his emotions.In the past, the role of the soul on the body, he discovered the mystery of the pineal gland in the category of pure philosophy, and named it "the passion of the soul", which is the key to unlock the mystery of dualism... But he can't go any further, Because the more he walked forward, the more he couldn't help but think of his lover and his daughter, and they had left him forever... The pain of the past was getting stronger and stronger like wine, and his reason was inadvertently blinded.In fact, this passion not only made him hurt himself, but also affected Pascal beside him.

Since his birthday in 1777, Pascal has been much more cheerful than before. He has focused on his scientific research and philosophical speculation, and religious feelings are no longer a negative factor in his life.To the people around him, he treats each other honestly; to his roommate, he regards him as his best friend.But Descartes, who would inevitably think of his deceased daughter when he saw a child, faced such a child beside him, even though he emphasized countless times in his heart that Pascal was a mature-minded adult, the most outstanding French mathematician and physicist in the 17th century like him. A philosopher, but inadvertently on weekdays, his attitude towards Pascal inevitably reflects his feelings for France back then.But what kind of feeling is this?Could it be possible to sacrifice such an excellent soul because of my desire for family and love for children, making him just a substitute for my 5-year-old daughter?Isn't this another mischief of my own selfish nature?

For this reason, Descartes had ignored Pascal for a long time.Pascal is still the same independent soul as before, he has not changed over the years, what has changed is only his own view of him.

But tonight, the French pavilion was so silent, deathly silent.Descartes looked at the calendar, and it was already the early morning of August 8.At this time...he could only sacrifice his rationality one more time anyway.

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"Why do you bother to see the pain of a dying person? Didn't you tell me all this, that memoirs incarnated somehow still recycle their human life cycle - every year around the time of the festival they To re-experience the pain of death as a human being, this scene is so common that it is not worth seeing..." Pascal lay on the bed, a pale smile appeared on his thin face, and he looked at Descartes who had just walked in with his lifeless eyes .Although it was August, the patient was shivering with convulsions.

Descartes didn't say anything, he picked up the wood and put it into the fireplace in the room.In no time the fire was burning one summer night, illuminating the darkened room.At this moment he turned his head, Pascal on the bed was already blue with cold.Descartes picked up the blanket and wrapped the bony body, hugged him and sat on the rocking chair in front of the fire.

Pascal was lying in the crook of his arms, his curly black hair draped over his shoulders in a mess.His eyes looked upward, but the dawn of heaven did not reach these outcasts.As if seeing nothing, the vision of that night in 1662 had completely filled the poor man's mind.Limbs twitched under the blanket, appearing more and more weak.

Looking at the life struggling in his arms, Descartes seemed to have returned to that sad September. After hearing the bad news, he hurried home. The last favor he got was that his dying daughter died in his arms. inside.

"Father of righteousness... The world doesn't know you...but I already know..." Pascal was delirious with a weak voice.What will be in front of his eyes at this moment?Is it the priest who confessed for him on his deathbed?Or his family: a mother who has never met, a father who died of illness, and two sisters...

Descartes held the child in his arms tightly.There is no more pain than reminiscing about what has been lost and can no longer be retrieved... After Frans died, he gave up his years of medical research, because the grave of his beloved daughter gave him all the knowledge of the secrets of the human body. Hopes were broken; Helena, she could no longer wander with him, and he took out 1000 guilders as her dowry in the fourth year after Francie's death, and put her in Jean Jans Vanville found her final destination there.His children died, the woman he loved married, nothing seemed to happen, but nothing remained—nothing could fill that deep hole in his heart that was deeper than where Frances was. A place that is far-reaching and even gloomy...

Suddenly the only sound in the room was the tearing of wood being devoured.Death in memory and death in reality overlap.Between the eerie shadows and the dancing firelight in the room, Pascal's body could no longer move under the blanket, no pain, no cold, no sorrow... But he would wake up again, wouldn't he?Isn’t what the materialized individuals of the memoir want to witness is that in their long existence after death, they watched all the traces and thoughts left by themselves as human beings disappear little by little, and finally even their own existence Swallowed by your own memories? !

"Rene?"

When the early morning light shone into the small room, a small call pulled Descartes out of his sleep.The fire in the fireplace had been reduced to a pool of ashes.Pascal was lying on the small blanket in his arms, stretching out his small hands to pull his curly long hair, and his tired black eyes were staring at him.A new cycle begins.

No, Bryce, don't stare at me like that...

☆, ether