SOTOPIA: Artificial Pseudo-God

When Steven and Moskevich returned to the cart carrying the mule deer they had shot, Old John and his friends had already cleared an open space outside the cabin, laid stones, laid out charcoal, and lit a fire.They hunted a lot of birds on the other side of the woods, so they went straight to preparing the barbecue.

It was dusk, and they could hear the crows above their heads, and the faint howls from the depths of the woods.

Hunters who grew up in the Lone Star State are in high spirits.They moved out crates of beer and a large barbeque iron skewer from the hut, shouted loudly and sat around the campfire, and the air was already filled with the aroma of barbecue.

"To every hunter in this land—" One of the men with a curly beard raised the wine bottle first, and the thick and enthusiastic shouts of his companions sounded from the campfire.They sang the southern folk songs they were familiar with since they were young, without paying attention to the tune or the lyrics, as if they just expressed their emotions and long years entrusted here to the bonfire in front of them in a warm and rough way.

Steven turned his head to look at Moskevich sitting next to him.The young man had a wine bottle in his hand, but he didn't drink much.The hot campfire made the faces of the "rednecks" red, and Moskevich was no exception.But even without the flames—Steven thought wildly—Moskevich would be flushed after drinking, maybe even burned.Strictly speaking, Steven is not a celibate, and he has had more than one obsessed or mutual obsessed object before this. He knows that his subtle attention implies an emotional experience that is on the edge of reason.

Sure enough, the young men of Nordic descent failed to integrate into the party of the old hunters.But he looked very satisfied with the status quo, smiling and watching the singing men.

Steven approached him, reached out his hand quickly before Moskevich could stop him, tested the temperature of the other person's face with the back of his hand, and quickly retracted his hand, which looked like a harmless prank between young boys .

He found that the opponent's skin was indeed slightly heated by the alcohol and flames.

To this, Moskevich did not react violently, but his body subconsciously froze for a moment.He turned his head to look at Steven and asked "what's the matter" with puzzled eyes.

Steven smiled and shook his head.He approached Moskevich again, in order not to let the wild singing around him overwhelm his own voice, he leaned directly to Moskevich's ear, and kindly reminded with an appropriate volume: "If you feel uncomfortable, don't drink Yes. Your temperature is rising."

This time it was Moskevich who smiled and shook his head.This reminded Steven of what Moskevich said: I will not refuse to do what I do not want to do, but only exclude those "unreasonable" choices.

The drunken Texan men opted to spend the night there.

Even if the door of the coming car is opened and the air vents are found, it is still unbearably hot to sleep in.So, they dragged out the thin blankets from the trunk and the cabinet of the cabin (some of them even removed this step), spread them directly on the wooden floor in front of the cabin, and laid them in one piece casually.

The bonfire was gradually extinguished, and John, who was the last to lie down, put the ever-burning lantern on the front hood of the car.After a while, snoring started everywhere, mixed with a few drunken words that could not be heard clearly.

Due to the considerable amount of alcohol and not drinking much, when Moskevich who was sleeping next to him got up, Steven opened his eyes almost immediately, and his head did not feel heavy.

The people sleeping around were not too quiet.But when the voices from human beings are thrown into the vast silence of nature, everything seems to be less rigid—it is neither dead silence nor noisy, but a flowing and beautiful picture.

Steven sat up, with his back just leaning against the pillars supporting the eaves outside the wooden house.He watched Moskevich walk towards his family's car, walking fairly steadily, careful not to wake up the others - although it was not easy to wake up this group of drunk people.Moskevich opened the trunk and pulled out a bucket.

Steven roughly understood what Moskevich was going to do.He stood up, stepped lightly, walked over the people lying soundly sleeping in the corridor, walked to each other, and asked softly, "Are you going to find a place to take a bath?"

Moskevich nodded. "The feeling of the clothes sticking to me is so bad that I can't sleep at all. It even smells like deer's blood." He grumbled under his breath and looked around, trying to find a usable water source.Steven pointed him directly to the location of the faucet.

The two walked to the rear side of the wooden house together.There is indeed running water, and there are piles of plastic pipes that have not been put away after use, as if someone has washed the car here.

Without too many words, Moskevich put the small bucket under the faucet, covered the bucket with a towel, and suppressed the sudden sound of the water hitting the bottom of the bucket.Although Steven was standing next to him, he didn't seem to care about it, and he just took off his jacket and trousers and put them on the unused clothesline.

—He didn't send me away, so I can stay here.

This kind of funny but extremely practical logic is Steven's innermost thoughts.He crossed his arms, and didn't even intend to take his eyes off Moskevich, who was left with only a pair of black shorts - after all, the other party might have been used to doing this in front of others in the laboratory; I bought it for him myself.

The edge of the lantern field was falling on Moskevich, and it was a little blurry, and the picture outlined was ambiguous in Steven's eyes.The slender and lean muscles wrapped in pale skin are the same as his ethnic features, which is really appreciative.

As early as in college, Steven had a brief relationship with a girl who loved painting.In her sketchbook, which includes almost all ages and races, he has seen female models with similar styles - what is close is not the appearance and temperament, but the unique feeling revealed in the bones.

Moskevich soaked the towel in the water, took it out, twisted it slightly, put it on his body and scrubbed methodically.The warm running water trickled down the body to the ground, quickly formed a pool, and slowly seeped down.His movements were quiet and quick, careful and unpretentious, and quickly wiped off the sticky feeling on his body caused by sweat.Finally, he stuck his head straight under the tap and rinsed his hair quickly.

"Don't catch a cold." Watching Moskevich put his clothes on with his back turned to him, Steven's tone of reminder was flat.He wrung out the towel and put it on Moskevich's dripping head in a simple and rough manner, but his movements were measured.

At this moment, the distance between the two of them is really close, and their respective states are also slightly delicate.Moskevich said "Thank you" softly, and then said with a chuckle: "You care about me."

Yes, he directly used a declarative tone, without even the slightest hint of a test.

Yet like him, Steven is a direct guy. "That's right." He replied crisply and concisely.The towel was a bit rough to the touch, but this not-so-soft texture didn't spoil the atmosphere at the moment.

"Are you having fun?" Steven heard himself asking softly, and he would probably have goosebumps all over his body in normal times.

Moskevich seemed to be smiling—the light was dim, and he couldn't see the other person's expression clearly, but such a close distance was enough to hear the other person's voice.

"Very happy," Moskevich replied.

The next day, they returned to Krebs' farm.

Another day later, as originally arranged, Steven took Moskevich to a nearby town.In the spacious courtyard in front of a family, young people are busy with various matters before the wedding.The green lawn has just been mowed, and the astringent smell of grass juice is in the air, which is quickly replaced by the rich aroma of food and wine.

Unlike Moskevich, who was unfamiliar with the place, Steven was obviously very familiar with the people and things here.Of course, he did not leave the friends he had brought to chat with others, but chose to stay near Moskevich, and warmly greeted his old friends for many years.

Steven quickly found the main character of the wedding standing across the long table joking with friends—she and her groom were all dressed up, and the happy smiles on their faces were the envy of others.

Anna saw him too.She showed a sincere smile to Steven, said something to the man beside her, took his hand and walked to the long-lost ex-boyfriend together.

"I'm glad you can come to my wedding." Treating her like a good friend, Anna took the initiative to hug Steven who hadn't seen him for several years.Immediately afterwards, Chris, the groom next to her, also hugged Steven—he was also a tall and handsome young man, wearing a white suit in a retro style, coupled with his wheat-colored skin that was slightly reddened by joy, the whole person looked Very energetic.Steven patted the groom-to-be on the shoulder, purposely leaned into his ear and whispered a few words of teasing, the latter smiled embarrassedly, while Anna, who was out of the situation, grabbed Chris's arm curiously, asking He Steven said something.

There seems to have never been a dramatic conflict such as "cross-cutting love" between them, as if they have always been full of strong emotions based on their hometown and living together.This kind of relationship is like a mixture of friendship and love, and its experience is close to that of family affection from blood.Moskevich, who was standing aside, looked at the three people who were exchanging greetings, and felt that he was gradually integrating into such a collective jubilant atmosphere from life etiquette.

Steven pulled Moskevich to his side, and the background introduction was still the same set of rhetoric as "friends who just arrived in Los Angeles" and "no acquaintances around me".

"Have a good time." Anna and Chris were as enthusiastic as any other friend, which made Moskevich very grateful.

They waved to Steven and quickly got back to the wedding.The guests who gathered at the temporary venue were either good at creating an atmosphere or blending into it. Even the old pastor who witnessed the marriage had a relaxed and happy expression.

Steven accompanied Moskevich in the back seat, surrounded by the laughter and applause of the guests, and the warm atmosphere fully reflected the rich core of the word "wedding".

Moskevich noticed the relief mixed with melancholy on Steven's face.

He suddenly understood why this person was willing to travel thousands of miles to bring him here, to a lively and noisy wedding scene.Moskevich had to admit that he was even jealous of Steven—whether it was the rich life experience without faults, or the frankness and directness that could be shown unreservedly, everything made him envious.

But these may not be the cornerstone of a happy life.Having said that, the word "happiness" itself is almost a paradox that can be easily falsified.

Moskevich asked tentatively: "What's the matter, do you still feel sorry?"

"I used to love her very much. But that's in the past." Steven smiled wryly, his expression full of unspeakable helplessness, but his tone seemed to be talking about other people's affairs.He looked at the beautifully dressed bride through the celebratory crowd——Anna had an elaborately woven wreath on her head, her long chestnut hair was scattered on a snow-white wedding dress, and even the light-colored freckles that she didn't deliberately conceal radiant.He looked at her, as if looking at the hopeless past that he had long since abandoned. "We're still good friends and that's enough," he said.

Then, Steven felt Moskevich pat himself lightly—a comforting gesture that was much gentler than in sparring.

He smiled: "Are you comforting me?"

"No," Moskevich replied, "learn what you have learned."