Kaem 从沉睡中醒来，他的肌肉又恢复了力量。他已经能够不受日出的影响，仅凭习惯就醒来。即使在冬天，太阳出得晚，他的生物钟也不会任由他错过自己的使命。

(资料图)

他把腿荡到床外，在站起身之前深呼吸了两口。时间不多了。他打开壁橱，抓起工具，走出了他那满是灰尘、四壁透风的棚屋。

寒冷对他而言并不是问题。他马上就会在采石场汗流浃背。

当啷。

这把鹤嘴锄钝了，不过还能用。

当啷。

缓慢地，但又确凿地，它破开了大地。

当啷。

Kaem正在开凿一道缝隙。

当啷。

这道缝隙最终会让整个岛屿四分五裂。

当啷。

而那北峰将会由Kaem所有。

他从未与岛上其他住民有过什么交流。大多数时间里，那些家伙只是从悬崖的顶端望下来，从它们安全的住所俯瞰着他。上次它们试图阻止Kaem挖掘时，由于它们的腿脚未经训练，有的滑倒了，落进了下面的云海中。于是现在它们只是看着，当Kaem将这块大地一分为二之时。

但是这一天，当他掘出的峡谷终于、终于快要触及岛屿的尽头时，有位住民抓着被单结成的粗绳子从上面爬了下来。是个孩子。它绿色的脑袋上有一块擦伤成了灰色，它蹒跚地走到Kaem面前。Kaem只是好奇地瞥了它一眼，就又回到工作上。

“你要走了，不是吗？”它吱吱地问道。

Kaem一直很讨厌他们的说话方式——如此高频的声音简直让他头疼。不过，他仍然回答了。 “是的。”

“而且你要把北峰一起带走？”

他向周身辽阔的采石场比划了一下，然后点点头。 “我想要个僻静的地方。你们这些家伙却不让人安宁。所以我正在凿出一个新的岛。”

Kaem的敌意对面前的家伙没有产生什么影响。那孩子还是站在那里。它的眼睛游移不定地扫视着采石场，瞳孔盯着每一个深到能从下面拉出一缕缕云彩的裂缝，这些裂缝正威胁着他们所站立的地面的完整性。他们的目光顺着每一道裂缝移动，移动到自己的脚下的裂隙。只见冰凉的雾气冒出，下方的天空清晰可见。然后，他们继续行走，目光汇聚到Kaem正在凿着的最后一块坚固的石头上。那是Kaem这项行动的最后关键。

“只剩下几米了。”它观察了一下，说道。

他的肌肉猛地收缩了一下，然后鹤嘴锄有力地凿进石头里。 “只用再凿几个小时了。”

“真的吗？”

“真的。”

几分钟的寂静，只有Kaem的鹤嘴锄凿击地面的声音，以及他使劲干活时克制的咕哝声。

凿了几下后，他停住了。 “你来这儿干嘛？”

它眨眨眼。

“上一次几个下来的家伙都摔下去了，”他继续说道，“你应该走。”

“你怎么变得这么强壮的？”

Kaem叹了口气。除了它们想听到的事情之外，你讲什么它们都听不见。 “当别无选择时，你才能变得强壮。”他带着几分怨愤说道， “我是被训练出来的。”

“被谁训练？”

“我父亲。”

“噢。”孩子说。Kaem只愿这孩子的好奇心已经得到了满足，但它又问道：“那他在哪？”

Kaem更加用劲地握住了鹤嘴锄。他扭过头不看孩子，然后敲了石头一下，就一下。敲击声响彻在采石场的石头和瓦砾间，直到最终消散。一切又变得冰冷寂静，像是那从破裂的地表冒出的雾气。 “他被杀了。被你们这些家伙杀了。”

在寂静无声中Kaem试图聆听到脚步后退的声音或攀爬绳索的声音，但是只有寂静持续着。

“这是你要离开的原因吗？”

他一动不动。 “回家问问你的家人们去。”

这招奏效了。孩子回到绳索旁，开始慢慢地向上攀爬。当它爬到一半时，它回过头俯视Kaem，然后喊道：“我要变得像你一样强壮！”

Kaem 停下来，看着那孩子顺着绳子往回奔去。一确定孩子不再能看清他的细节，他就让自己露出了一丝微笑。压低了嗓音，他轻声说道。

“不可能的。”

他回头俯瞰那最后剩下的连接着北峰和更大岛屿的结构。只要再工作十分钟，十五分钟，他就会拥有他自己的一方乐园。有那么一会儿，他抬头望向天空。很冷，但太阳正冲破云层升起，而他能够感受到太阳正试图推开稀薄的大气前来温暖他。晃悠着肩上的鹤嘴锄，他呼吸着，体验着，只是为了体验本身。抓住这一刻，这最后的一刻，在目标完成之前。

然而这一刻无比短暂。

因为还有工作要做。

他最后的一击在空中回响，时间静止了，此时那孩子正坐在悬崖顶端，坐在采石场边缘，看着岛屿分为两块，采石场冰冷的灰色石头与岩壁分离，发出一阵轰隆巨响与几下崩裂声。Kaem轻轻地漂移后坠，他抬头看，看到悬崖正面，床单结成的绳子正在被拉起，他看到那孩子的眼睛。但这一刻只持续了一刹那。转眼间他看到了一些更为逼人的东西。

身下翻滚的云海。

然后一切开始崩塌。采石场，岛屿，还有他的乐园，从一块变成两块三块再变成最细微的小颗粒。一旦大地不再比血液更加坚实——那些血液此时正以创纪录的速度流过Kaem的心脏——他和他的世界就开始坠落，落入深深的云层，落入天空，落入那雾蒙蒙的极乐深渊。

Kaem rose from his slumber, his muscles restored. He had beaten the sunrise, waking from habit alone. His internal clock would not let him miss his duties even when winter made the sun late to the morning.

He slung his legs out of his bed, and took two deep breaths before standing. There was no time to waste. He opened his closet, grabbed his tools, and walked out the door of his dusty, pocked shack.

The cold didn't bother him. He would sweat soon enough at the quarry.

Clank.

The pickaxe was dull, but it did the job.

Clank.

Slowly, but surely, it broke into the earth.

Clank.

Kaem was working on a fissure.

Clank.

A crack that would eventually fracture this island.

Clank.

And the north peak would become Kaem's.

He never interacted much with the other denizens of the island. Much of the time, they simply watched from the top of their cliff, peering down at him from their safe haven. The last time they'd tried to stop Kaem from digging, their untrained feet had caused some to slip and fall into the sea of clouds below. All they did now was stare as he cracked the land in two.

But this day, as the canyon he was carving was finally finally nearing the final stretch of the island, one of them descended from above on a thick rope made of bedsheets. A child. A spot on its green head was bruised grey, and it stumbled over to Kaem, who simply gave it a curious glance before getting back to his work.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" It squeaked.

Kaem always hated how they talked — the high frequencies always made his head pound. Still, he replied. "Yes."

"And you're taking the north peak with you?"

He gestured to the great quarry around him and nodded. "I'd like somewhere quiet and secluded. Your kind make it difficult. So I am making a new island."

Kaem's hostility had no noticeable effect. The child stood as close as ever. Its eyes wandered across the quarry, its pupils fixating on each and every crevice that struck deep enough to pull wispy puffs of cloud from below, threatening the integrity of the ground on which they stood. They followed each such crevice along the path, until their eyes met with their feet, where that cold mist came through, tangible sky from the heavens below. Then, they moved on, their eyes coming to the last sturdy rocks that Kaem was working on. The last keystones of Kaem's operation.

"You only have a few meters left," it observed.

His muscles suddenly surged, and he struck into the rock forcefully. "A few more hours of work."

"Really?"

"Really."

There were a few minutes of silence, only filled by the sound of Kaem's pickaxe clanking against the earth and his disciplined grunts of exertion.

After some strikes, he stopped. "Why are you here?"

It blinked.

"Last time someone came down here, they fell," he continued. "You should leave."

"How did you get so strong?"

Kaem sighed. They never listened unless it was something they wanted to hear. "You get strong when you have no other choice," he said with some spite. "I was trained."

"By who?"

"My father."

"Oh." Kaem briefly had hope that the child's curiosity was satisfied, but: "Where is he?"

Kaem's grip on the pickaxe tightened. He turned from the child, and struck the rock just once. The hit rang and echoed across the boulders and rubble of the quarry, before it finally dissipated, cold and silent like the vapors coming from the cracked ground. "Killed. By your people."

There was a silence in which Kaem listened for retreating footsteps or the scaling of a rope, but only silence endured.

"Is that why you're leaving?"

He didn't move. "Go back to your family and ask them."

That did the trick. The child went back to his rope, and began to slowly climb upwards. When it was halfway up the rope, it looked back down at Kaem, and it shouted: "I'm gonna be strong like you!"

Kaem stopped, watching as the child scampered back up the rope. Once he was sure the child couldn't see the finer details, he let a small smile work its way onto his face. Under his breath, he whispered.

"You won't."

He looked back down at the last remaining structures connecting the north peak to the greater island. With another ten, fifteen minutes of work, he'd have his own piece of paradise. For a moment, he looked up to the sky. It was cold, but the sun was coming up above the clouds, and he could feel its attempts to push through the thin atmosphere and warm him. With the pickaxe swung over his shoulder, he breathed, and experienced, only for the sake of experiencing. Holding this one, final moment before his goal.

But it was brief.

Because there was work to be done.

His final strike echoed in the air, and time froze to a standstill as the child sat on the top of the cliff, the quarry's edge, watching as the island split in two, the cold gray stone of the quarry separating from the rock wall with a loud grumble and several cracks. As Kaem drifted ever so gently backwards, he looked up, up at the cliff face from which the bedsheet rope was being pulled in, making eye contact with the child. But it only lasted a split-second. Soon he was looking at something more pressing.

The billowing clouds below.

And then it started the crumble. The quarry, the island, his paradise, turning from one piece into two into three into only the most particulate parts. And once the ground had no more cohesion than the blood pumping at record speeds through Kaem's heart, he and his world began to fall, deep into the clouds, into the sky, into the smoky and blissful abyss.