by Lawrence Pun, translated from Chinese into English by Chris Song

When Grey was stepping across the platform gap, as usual, she heard a greyest voice repeating this line: "Please hold the handrail!" "Please hold the handrail!" She was wearing a yellow uniform which didn't make her look any sharper. None of those grey faces flowing out of the car turned to her, except for Grey. Grey No. 1 walked toward Grey No. 2. She looked at her suspiciously and couldn't help asking, "Do we know each other?" Perhaps Grey No. 2 had wanted to answer, but she realised it was wrong. She paused for a second and went on being a human recorder: "Please hold the handrail!" "Please hold the handrail!"

Grey No. 1 stepped onto the escalator but didn't hold the black handrail. She did this on purpose, as perhaps this was the only rebellious action she could take every day, which was a psychological compensation that she may or may not have needed. When the escalator was carrying her to the first floor of the concourse, a familiar face of a childhood friend flashed through her mind—the girl in yellow trying to maintain order at the entrance of the escalator was her classmate from sixth grade. They hadn't seen each other for many years, and she didn't know how she had ended up working at the MTR.

For the whole day, the girl in the yellow uniform did her duty and tried to maintain order at the MTR station. She saw many avatars of herself, as if out of cell division, standing on the platform, holding a loudspeaker and a round-shaped board ("Please mind the gap!"), setting up a chant: "Please hold the handrail!" "Please hold the handrail!" This scene, of course, was familiar to her. (She had been working there for three months.) But this was the first time that she distanced herself and looked at these yellow clones in this theater of the metro station. She thought of Newton's first law of motion she had learnt at school. It says an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an external force that makes it change direction or accelerate. This law was felt in the minutiae of life. The girl who gazed intensely at her was that external force. In the station like a metallic abode, it took her some time to recall that the girl was her classmate in primary school. She walked away in a hurry, but her look stayed and revealed that her life wasn't easy either. Perhaps this was the unspoken mark of their generation.

Self-awareness can be a good thing or trouble. After three months of self-training, she thought her mechanism of thinking was able to follow the body's mechanical order. But now her voice came out from the loudspeaker tuned strange in her ears. The warm reminder "Please mind the gap!" became ironic. She looked at the platform gate, which was like a well-shut mouth that only opened for a brief yawn when the train arrived. Nowadays, it was impossible to jump the track. If The Complete Manual of Suicide ever published a revised edition, this method would have to be pitiably edited out. "Please mind the gap!" A gap is a space that can be filled up with things, including junk information and broadcast advertising. Luggage rolled over her toes, but its owner didn't say sorry. Instead, the passenger blamed her standing in his way. Now she came back to herself and realised she had indulged too much in her thinking today. Fortunately, the more active mechanism of thinking didn't apparently affect her work one bit. Another day blandly passed off.

A few days later, she was assigned to the same spot on the platform. Grey appeared again among the people flowing out of the car. Again Grey looked at her with suspicion. When she was passing by, she shot out, "Why do you look so lifeless?" Before she heard it, Grey was already on the escalator. She noticed Grey didn't hold the handrail, as though a sign of provocation. All of a sudden, the broadcast on the escalator was extra loud: "Be a safe escalator user, stay firm and don't move!" She realised her voice caught up with the broadcast, which meant extra safety. Her head lowered farther down and saw, "When you hear the 'DING-DONG' sound, please let passengers exit before boarding the train." "When you hear the 'DO-DO-DO' sound, please stop boarding and wait for the next train." She eared up for the first time for the "DING-DONG" when the train arrived (People always boarded the train before letting passengers exit.) and "DO-DO-DO" when it left (People always threw themselves onto the train at the last moment.). It struck her that she had the instinct to mute such intensive repetitive noise. She wanted so much to run to her childhood classmate and tell Grey, "Weariness is a necessity. Otherwise, it's unbearable." But Grey was already reaching the height of the escalator and seemed to glance back at her on purpose as she got off. Although she had an impulse to catch up with her, her duty prevented her and required her to stay put. She saw the platform had a lot of foam boards and many advisements pasted up on the mosaic wall, reminding the passengers to keep safe, those with the lines such as "TRAVEL HAPPILY EVERY DAY IN THE MTR," "CARING FOR LIFE'S JOURNEY" that targeted people's hearts but no heart was ever won. She realised she was no more than a thin poker card. Perhaps such life was not without ease. Another day safely passed off.

Three p.m. Office workers were still in the office. Children in school uniforms began the surge to the platform. Gazing at these students, the girl in yellow (or, Grey No. 2, if you will) thought of the time she wore such a uniform, which didn't seem very long ago. There were only a few years for a person to take off her school uniform and put on the MTR's yellow uniform. What happened in between was always blurred and confusing. The uniformity of the school uniform gave her a fine impression. At least, it was much more beautiful than the MTR's uniform; yellow was the colour she liked the least. Not even one piece of yellow clothing was allowed into her closet. But life was really ironic. She had to wear this yellow uniform for a good part of the week, which labelled her work identity. Looking at the backpacks on these students' backs, she thought of the MTR's notorious slogan, "DON'T RIDE LIKE A BUMPER CAR. PUT YOUR BACKPACK DOWN." She was a messenger of safety without conviction. How was it even possible? The happiness and excitement of riding a bumper car were impossible to find in the MTR. How long had it been since she last rode a bumper car? How desperately she wanted to relive the days of wearing a school uniform! As she was deep in her thought, two girls walked by abreast, each holding the other's arm, and stepped on the car. They were like twin dolls, or two sticky sugar beans, but not so much like bumper cars. Did she ever have such a companion? She couldn't think of anyone. Grey planted a few questions in her mind then disappeared for the next few days.

Grey re-appeared neither in the morning, nor in the afternoon, but on a Friday evening. She didn't come out among the people flowing out from the cart. Instead, she was taking the escalator down to the platform. The case on her back was unusually bigger than a normal backpack. According to the MTR's guideline, it was categorised as an oversized item. And so she wouldn't be allowed to board the train. The girl in yellow recognised that it was a musical instrument at first glance. One didn't even need to open the case; its shape revealed that it was a cello. The guideline was only a guideline. During less busy times, the MTR staff in yellow uniform usually didn't stop people who carried such instruments from boarding the train. She walked towards Grey (who looked much livelier today actually) without the intention of stopping her. She felt she finally had a reason to talk to her. She pointed at the case on Grey's back and was about to speak. But Grey asked ahead of her, "Do you still remember me? Lam Hoi Yu." The girl in yellow was taken aback, but she finally abandoned the code of practice. She answered, "I remember you, but I've forgotten your name." "We played music together when we're children." "My world is a car of noise now." Only a few words were enough to make the girl in yellow realise she was beyond the yellow line. Her remindful uniform, another kind of instinct, prevented her from taking the conversation further. She only uttered, "Please stand back from the platform gate." She observed that this childhood classmate wanted to open the case. At that very moment, the train arrived, and the gate was open. She wanted to say something, but she only spoke, "Please move inside to the train compartment." She feared Grey would take out the bow and play the cello on the platform. In this city, no one had ever played the cello in the MTR station. She didn't want to be reported, didn't want to be filmed on any cell phone and didn't want to become the focus of any crowd. Grey had no alternative but to pack it up and get on to the train. When the gate was about to close, she managed to yell, "Off you go. My name is the same as yours." Another day was passing off. This was 7 p.m. She was off from work. She stood on the platform and pondered what she meant by "go."

灰爆

灰爆今天如常地走出地鐵車門的夾縫時，聽到一把從沒如此灰爆的聲音在重複著一句話：「請緊握扶手！」「請緊握扶手！」⋯⋯黃色的衣服絲毫沒有令她顯得比較燦爛起來，也絲毫沒有令一車被運送出來的灰爆頭顱轉臉望向這黃衣女子一眼，除了灰爆一人。灰爆一號走近灰爆二號，帶著疑惑的眼光看著她，不由得說了一句：「我們是否認識的？」灰爆二號也許想答話，但馬上意識這是不對的，停頓了約一秒後繼續人肉錄音機地重複：「請緊握扶手！」「請緊握扶手！」

灰爆一號踏上扶手梯，偏偏不聽叮嚀把手緊握黑色扶手帶上，這也許是她在日常生活中僅可作的叛逆，可有可無的一點心理補償。當扶手梯把她差不多運抵地鐵大堂一層時，她腦海閃出一張小時候認識的臉──那站在扶手梯口負責維持地鐵秩序的黃衣女子，是她小六時的一個同學。多年沒見，不知她的路是怎麼走到現在的。

一天下來，黃衣女子繼續盡忠職守地維持地鐵秩序，繁忙時份她看到很多自己的分身站在月台上，如細胞分裂般，一手拿著大聲公一手拿起一塊圓牌（上寫「請小心空隙」），如唸咒般重複說著：「請緊握扶手！」「請緊握扶手！」這景象對她當然是熟悉的（她在這裡上班近三個月），但自己抽離地看這黃衣克隆人的地鐵劇場，上班以來還是首次。於此，小時候學的牛頓第一定律──物件處於靜止或均速走動會一直如此，當遇外力才會改變方向或加速，在微小生活中竟也應驗到。剛才那定睛審視她的灰爆女子就是那外力，在地鐵這令人昏睡的鐵屋中，黃衣女子也要用上一段時間才想起來：她是我小學時認識的一個同學。剛才那灰爆女子雖然匆匆走過，但她的眼神沒有隨之而散，那眼神告訴她，對方也活得不怎麼如意。這也許可視為她們同代人的一個不明文記號。

自我意識是好的，但自我意識也可以是麻煩的東西。三個月來她以為自己已練就，讓思慮機器完全服膺於機械性的身體指令。但當下，她執著大聲公喊出的話聽在自己耳裡變成一把陌生的聲音，手牌上「請小心空隙」的溫馨提示忽然變成了一個諷刺。她看著地鐵月台閘門緊緊閉著嘴巴，只在列車停定月台時才短暫地打出一個呵欠缺口──今時今日，要在地鐵跳軌已不可能。《完全自殺手冊》今天若再重編得要少一種自殺方式，這不能不說是可惜的。「請小心空隙」，因為有空隙的地方，就可塞進東西，包括所有的垃圾資訊和聲音廣告。直至一個行李箱的車轆輾過她腳趾頭，那乘客沒賠不是反倒還責怪她站在這裡擋路，她才回過神來，察覺自己今天確是想多了。可幸思慮機器短暫活躍，表面上還沒有影響到她的工作半分。夜去晨來，一天又無驚無喜地過去了。

隔了幾天，當她再一次於晨早在月台同樣位置站崗時，車門吐出的人群中再次出現了灰爆女子。這次，灰爆女子同樣帶著疑惑的眼光打量她，經過她身邊時拋下了一句：「怎麼妳那麼沒神沒氣？」未及她回神，灰爆女子已踏上扶手梯，她注意到灰爆女子沒有聽她的話手握扶手，竟然還好像故意挑釁地在電梯上走動。此時地鐵扶手梯處的廣播變得額外巨大起來，以兩文三語反覆播出：「握扶手，企定定，唔好喺電梯上行走！請注意安全，站穩扶好，不要在扶梯上行走！Be a safe escalating user, stay firm and don’t move！」她赫然意識，她震動聲帶的人肉發聲，疊在喇叭廣播的機械錄音上，不過是另一重安全保險。她的頭垂得更低了，剛好看到玻璃閘門底貼著兩道標語：「聽到叮噹 請先落後上」、「聽到嘟嘟 請立刻停步」，她首次豎起了耳朵，捕捉列車駛抵站時發出的「叮噹」（人們卻是逆向地「先上後落」）和離站時的「嘟嘟」（總有人會臨尾衝刺），驚覺這麼密集重複的聲音，她平時竟然可以本能地過濾，將之變成靜音。她很想跑上去告訴那昔日同窗：「疲倦是必須的，否則如何負荷」，但灰爆女子已經到了扶手梯頂，正踏出扶手梯時好像還故意回頭掃了她一眼。儘管一刻她有衝動拔腿追上她，限於職責她不能這樣做，她要緊守崗位也即是讓自己原地站立。原地站立時她看到月台放了不少安全紙牌，也有貼在馬賽克磚塊上的多款安全廣告，例必配上「天天開心搭地鐵」、「心繫生活每一程」諸如此類動之以「心」但無人為之所動的口號。一刻她想到，原來自己也不過輕薄如一張紙牌，也許這樣的生存亦不無一份輕省。一切非常安全，夜去晨來，一天又如此過去了。

下午三時多，上班族仍未下班，但穿校服的開始湧現於月台。黃衣女子（你也可叫她灰爆二號）看著這些學子，想到自己穿校服的日子也不是太遙遠的事，由校服過渡到今天的黃衣制服，也不過是幾年光景而已。中間是怎樣走過的，想來卻是迷迷糊糊，糊糊塗塗。校服雖也是制服的一種，但給她的印象還是好的，起碼相比起現在身上那套制服要美多了。她平素最不喜歡的顏色便是黃色，家中衣櫃一件黃色的衣服也沒有，偏偏，好像命運跟她開玩笑一樣，她一星期大部分時間得穿上一套黃色制服，並以此界定了自己的工作身份。學生人潮中很多孭著沉甸甸的背囊，她想起公司早前給招來惡評的標語：「唔做碰碰車 放低背囊 唔會碰到人」；作為安全使者，連她自己也不能信服。怎麼可能呢，碰碰車那麼開心刺激，怎麼可能在地鐵內發生呢。多久沒玩了，可以回到穿校服的日子便好了。正想得出神，兩個肩並肩、手箍手、彷彿孖公仔般的兩個女學童在她面前掠過，徐徐踏進車廂。與其說是「碰碰車」，不如說是「糖黐豆」。這樣的玩伴她有過嗎？她想不起來。她想起那個近日向她投以問號的昔日同窗，有好幾天沒有出現了。

再次出現的時候，不在晨早也不在下午，而在周五黃昏時。不是從列車口中被傾吐出來，而是反方向地從扶手梯踏下月台。另外不一樣的是，這天灰爆背上背著一件東西，那件東西比背囊大，根據公司指引，屬於大型行李，如超出尺度不准上車。這件東西黃衣女子很快認出是一件樂器，看其形狀不用打開便知是一具大提琴。指引歸指引，非繁忙時間，像這樣的樂器、甚至單車，黃衣職員一般都不加阻截。她走近灰爆女子（其實她今天氣色好多了），其實也無攔截之意，只是想到，今天有理由可以主動跟她說話了。她指指灰爆背上的東西，正欲開口，搶先說話的卻是灰爆：「其實你還記得我嗎？林海如同學。」黃衣女子一怔，終於溢出了工作守則答了一話：「我記得你。但我已忘記了你的名字。」「我們小時候也一起玩過音樂。」「我現在的世界只有噪音廂。」就只有一句話那麼多，黃衣女子馬上察覺到自己超越黃線，身上的制服復又現形，明明想回話卻被另一種本能攫住，張開嘴巴只懂說：「請勿站近車門。」她看到這昔日同窗好像要打開琴盒，此時列車駛進，車門打開，她想說甚麼卻只說出：「請盡量行入車廂。」她當下其實怕，怕這昔日同窗真的拔出弓來，就地在月台上拉奏大提琴，從來沒有人在這城做過這回事，她不想被投訴、被手機拍下，成為群眾圍觀的對象。終於那同學無可奈何地關起琴盒，踏進了車廂，在車門差不多合上時，僅來得及向她喊出一句：「快離開吧。我的名字，其實跟你一樣的。」晨去夜來，此時正值下午七時，她放工的時候到了；她佇立在月台上，良久思量著，何謂「離開」的意思。