候鸟-开头
Migratory Birds-1
最近智利的天气变幻莫测。昨天，太阳炙烤着街道，人们几乎无法站在户外；今天，强风在令人窒息的灰色天空下肆虐。
古斯塔沃静静地坐在桌子前，凝视着手中的表格。
“参军是个好主意，起码在这年头不会挨饿。”他的哥哥马丘卡在第一时间得知他的想法后站在他身边，拍了拍他的肩膀。
“你说我要不要写信问问佩德罗？”古斯塔沃看着门口望天的马丘卡，皱着眉头问。
“他只会说你选了条好道儿。这该死的天气到底下不下雨，真让人燥得慌。”马丘卡看着黑压压的天忍不住发牢骚。他马上要去矿地干活，但家里连辆自行车子也没置办，要是中途下起雨，他就别无选择，只能淋成落汤鸡跑回来——更别提矿地离这有多远。
马丘卡已经去上班了。外面开始淅淅沥沥地下起雨，雨滴落在房头上发出清脆的响声。
古斯塔沃坐在桌子前签好了报表。
1971年对大多数智利人来说是个好年份，全智利都欢呼雀跃于阿连德的获胜，期待智利建造成“智利人的智利”，人人能过上好日子。
交表，体检，建档。古斯塔沃抽中了陆军，他告诉自己还算不错，起码不用跑到船上上吐下泻。军队的生活刻苦但充实，他不用再为每天吃食发愁，不用再跑到街上去卖旗子赚钱。
古斯塔沃看着档案笑起来。
“你要去当海军？疯子。你在军队里表现那么优秀。你待在这很快就会晋升。”
马蒂亚斯（Matías）坐在古斯塔沃对面，看着对面坐的笔直的黝黑皮肤的青年，眼神里充满震惊和不解。
Matías是古斯塔沃入伍后认识的第一个人，高挑的身材，健硕的肌肉，一头金色卷发再加上白皙的皮肤，人们从一开始就知道这是个富家哥。
“这不是重点，重点是现在上面看重的是陆军。”古斯用手指轻轻敲击着桌子，他深邃的眼睛看着对面那双琥珀色的眼睛，神情难以捉摸。
“所以你要去海军享清闲？”Matías夸张地瞪大眼睛眼睛，“抱歉，古斯塔沃，请允许我有疑惑，你想立功你想晋升，整个军队人.人.都知道。”特地加重了某个词的语气后，他摊开双手向周围环绕了一小圈。
“你最好小点声。古斯塔沃长吸了一口气，盯着面前的男人。
“我累了，Matías。”古斯微微俯下身，压低声音看着对面的男人。“难道每天都要这样吗？我们走上街头去驱赶我们自己人？”
“我以为你不介意，毕竟你看起来从来不关心在街上的那些人，每次拿着枪站到最后的也是你。”
“我介意，Matías，我介意，那群人里还有孩子。”古斯看起来既有无奈也有气愤。“但这是军队的命令，军人只能服从命令。”
Matías只是又舀起一勺米饭送进嘴里。
“呃，古斯，听着。人们迟早会发生暴动，好吗。看看智利现在什么样吧，你为了躲开这些情况去当海军？”Matías挑了挑眉，用勺子拨弄着盘里面的饭菜。“伙计，我不知道你支持哪边，但我站在爱德华多和莱昂·比拉林这边。 ”
“我哪边也不站，Matías，我对这些没兴趣。”
“但我的哥哥都是矿场工人。”古斯塔沃重新坐直身体，默默盯着Matías说。
Matías没再说什么，只是撇撇嘴低头看着自己的食物。
超感谢老师们能够来读我的小学生阅读理解文章🥹这些天查阅了一些智利的资料，也很感慨，初步构思了一下就毫无顾忌的发了出来，我会写完，希望写的过程中文笔也能进步吧，也算是圆了我对古斯塔沃人生猜测的一种构思🥺🙌
Chile’s weather had been unpredictable lately. Yesterday the sun scorched the streets so badly people could barely stand outside, and today strong winds rolled in under a suffocating gray sky.
Gustavo sat silently at the table, staring at the form in his hands.
“Joining the military’s a good idea. At least you won’t starve these days.” His older brother Machuca had said that the moment he heard about it, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder.
“Do you think I should write to Pedro and ask him about it?” Gustavo asked, frowning as he watched Machuca standing by the doorway, looking up at the sky.
“He’ll just tell you you picked the right path. Damn weather can’t decide whether it wants to rain or not.” Machuca grumbled at the dark clouds overhead. He had to leave soon for work at the mines, but the family couldn’t even afford a bicycle. If the rain started halfway there, he’d have no choice but to run home soaked to the bone — and the mines were far from here.
By the time Machuca left for work, rain had already begun to fall in thin, steady drops, tapping crisply against the roof.
Gustavo signed the form at the table.
For most Chileans, 1971 had seemed like a good year. All across Chile, people celebrated Allende’s victory, hoping to build “a Chile for Chileans,” a country where ordinary people could finally live well.
Paperwork. Medical exams. Registration files.
Gustavo was assigned to the army. He told himself it wasn’t too bad — at least he wouldn’t end up vomiting on some ship at sea. Military life was harsh, but stable. He no longer had to worry about food every day, or sell flags in the streets just to make money.
Looking at his file, Gustavo smiled.
“You’re transferring to the navy? Are you insane? You’re doing incredibly well here. Stay long enough and you’ll get promoted.”
Matías sat across from Gustavo, staring at the dark-skinned young man sitting perfectly straight in his chair, disbelief written all over his face.
Matías had been the first person Gustavo met after joining the military. Tall, blond curls, pale skin — one glance and everyone knew he came from money.
“That’s not the point. The point is the high command cares about the army right now.” Gustavo tapped a finger lightly against the table, his dark eyes unreadable as he looked at the amber-colored ones across from him.
“So you’re running off to the navy for an easier life?” Matías widened his eyes dramatically, stressing every word. “Come on, Gustavo. Everyone in the military knows you want recognition. You want promotion.”
“You should keep your voice down.” Gustavo let out a long breath, staring at him.
“I’m tired, Matías.” He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “Does it have to be like this every day? Going out into the streets to drive away our own people?”
“I thought you didn’t care. You never look bothered by the people out there. You’re always the one still holding the gun at the end.”
“I do care, Matías. There are children in those crowds.” Gustavo sounded frustrated now, and exhausted. “But those are orders. Soldiers follow orders.”
Matías scooped another spoonful of rice into his mouth.
“Listen, Gus. Sooner or later people were going to riot anyway, alright? Look at the state Chile’s in.” He pushed the food around his tray with his spoon. “I don’t know whose side you’re on, but I’m with Eduardo and León Vilarín.”
“I’m not on anyone’s side, Matías. I’m not interested in politics.” Gustavo straightened in his seat again, watching him quietly. “But my brothers are miners.”
Matías said nothing after that. He only pressed his lips together and looked back down at his food.
rambling：
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little “elementary-school-level reading comprehension essay”… 🥹
Over the past few days I’ve been reading a lot about Chile and thinking about it quite a bit. I ended up getting carried away with my ideas about Gustavo’s past and just posted this without overthinking it too much.
I do want to finish this story, though. Hopefully my writing will improve along the way too. In a sense, this is also my own attempt at imagining what Gustavo’s life might have been like.
Also, because my English isn’t very good, this entire piece was translated with the help of GPT. Thank you all for your understanding and kindness!🥰
