它們是用肉做出來的

I’m honored that this often shows up on the internet. Here’s the correct version, as published in Omni, 1990.


它們昰用肉做出來
THEY'RE MADE OUT OF MEAT

“肉？”

“是肉，它們昰用肉做出來的。”

“肉？”

“毫無疑問，我們從行星的不同部份取了幾個上我們的船，和全面探查它們一遍。它們完全是肉來的。”

“那是不可能的，無線電訊號如何？那些往星球的訊號。”

“它們使用無線電波交談，但訊號不是來自它們，訊號來自機器。”

“那麼誰做那些機器？那才是我們要聯絡的。”

“它們做了機器，那才是我試圖告訴你的，肉製造了機器。”

“那是荒謬的，肉怎能製造出機器呢？你在要我相信有意識的肉。”

“我不是在要求你，我只在告訴你。這些生物是那區中唯一有意識的民族，和它們是肉做出來。”

“或許它們像奧孚利，一種已經歷肉階段的碳基生物。”

“不一樣，它們生來是肉而死也是肉。我們研究過它們的幾個生命週期樣本，它們並不長久，你能否理解肉的生命週期是甚麼？”

“饒我吧，好啦，或許它們只部分是肉，似域刁利，有肉做的頭而內裡有電子脈衝的腦。”

“不一樣，我們也想過，它們像域刁利般確有肉頭；但我告訴你我們探測過它們，它們全程都是肉。”

“沒有腦嗎？”

“哦，沒錯有一個腦，但剛衹是用肉做出來的腦！這那就是我一直試圖告訴你的。”

“那...思維是甚麼呢？”

“你還是不明白，對嗎？你在拒絕處理我告訴你的事情，那肉的腦負責思維。”

“思想的肉！你在要我相信會思想的肉！”

“對的，思想的肉！意識的肉！會愛的肉，做夢的肉，講的全都是肉！你開始看見幅圖畫沒有抑或要我從頭開始？”

“天哪，你是認真的了，它們是用肉做出來的。”

“多謝你，終於，對的，它們確實是用肉做出來的。和差不多它們計法的一百年，它們一直在嘗試接觸我們。”

“天哪，那這肉在想什麼？”

“首先它想與我們交談，然後我猜想它要探索宇宙，接觸其它的知覺能力，交換想法和資訊，平常嘢。”

“那我們要和肉交談。”

“就是那想法，那是它們用無線電發出的訊息：'哈羅，外面有人嗎，有人在家嗎。'諸如此類。”

“那麼，它們事實上確能說話，它們使用詞語、想法、概念？”

“哦，是的，除了它們用肉做這。”

“我以為你剛告訴我它們用無線電。”

“它們是，但你想無線電上有什麼？肉在發音。你知如何當你拍打肉時，它會做出聲音嗎？它們通過拍打每一個人的肉來交談，它們甚至能透過它們的肉噴射出空氣來唱歌。”

“天哪，唱歌的肉，這一齊是太多了，那你建議什麼？”

“正式還是非正式的？”

“兩者。”

“正式的，我們被要求接觸、歡迎和記錄任何和所有在宇宙這片區域中的有意識的民族或多生物，毫無偏見地，不論愛惡；非正式的話，我建議我們删除記錄和忘掉整件事。”

“我在等你說那。”

“它看來尖酸，但有限制，我們真的想要和肉接觸嗎？”

“我100%同意，該說甚麼呢？哈羅，肉，最近好嗎？但這有用？我們要在這裡處理多少行星阿？”

“只一個，它們能以特別的肉容器旅行到其它行星，但它們不能在上面生存。而且作為肉，它們只能穿越C空間，它限制他們於光速，和令它們的可能接觸面幾窄，事實上是極小。”

“那我們只好假裝宇宙裡沒有別的存在。”

“就這樣。”

“殘忍，但你自己說過，誰要見肉？和那些已上過船的，那些你檢測過的？你肯定它們不會記起？”

“它們會被認為是瘋子的如果還記得，我們進入它們的頭部和平整它們的肉，因此對它們來說我們只是一場夢。”

“肉的一個夢！幾奇怪恰當阿，那我們應是肉的夢。”

“和我們標記這整個區域為無人地帶。”

“好，同意，正式還是非正式的，個案完結。有別的嗎？在銀河系的那一邊有有趣的人嗎？”

“有，在G445區一個九級恆星有一頗為害羞但甜美的氫核智慧，在兩個銀河自轉週期前和我們接觸，再次想要示好。

“他們總是沒完沒了。”

“為什麼不呢？想像一下如果一個已是全部那麽孤單，宇宙會是如何難以忍受，如何非言語所能表達地寒冷...”


THEY'RE MADE OUT OF MEAT

"They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"Meat. They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"There's no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."

"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars?"

"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines."

"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."

"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines."

"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient meat."

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in that sector and they're made out of meat."

"Maybe they're like the orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage."

"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn't take long. Do you have any idea what's the life span of meat?"

"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."

"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads, like the weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way through."

"No brain?"

"Oh, there's a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of meat! That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"So ... what does the thinking?"

"You're not understanding, are you? You're refusing to deal with what I'm telling you. The brain does the thinking. The meat."

"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"

"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you beginning to get the picture or do I have to start all over?"

"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."

"Thank you. Finally. Yes. They are indeed made out of meat. And they've been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."

"Omigod. So what does this meat have in mind?"

"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the Universe, contact other sentiences, swap ideas and information. The usual."

"We're supposed to talk to meat."

"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio. 'Hello. Anyone out there. Anybody home.' That sort of thing."

"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"
"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."

"I thought you just told me they used radio."

"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat, it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat."

"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?"

"Officially or unofficially?"

"Both."

"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in this quadrant of the Universe, without prejudice, fear or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing."

"I was hoping you would say that."

"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?"

"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say? 'Hello, meat. How's it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?"

"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can't live on them. And being meat, they can only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."

"So we just pretend there's no one home in the Universe."

"That's it."

"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you probed? You're sure they won't remember?"

"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them."

"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat's dream."

"And we marked the entire sector unoccupied."

"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"

"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again."

"They always come around."

"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the Universe would be if one were all alone ..."

http://www.terrybisson.com/page6/page6.html

美國科學家用動物細胞在試管中培養出可食用肉類