Railing Codex

Lives in Shanghai and has been under lockdown for more than a month now, drawing every day to stay active and ingesting huge quantities of daikon, carrots, zucchini, cabbage, and real and fake news, along with all sorts of unnameable colors.

填充，一种膜人的成年仪式，由祭司执行。生命的前三百天，膜人是一张薄如蝉翼的皮，一只不起眼的空袋囊，干瘪蜷缩，白色半透明，呈现出一种极易被忽略的身体形态。时日一至，祭司将滚动着靠近，伸出一跟细管插入膜人的口器——他们唯一的开口。墨色的汁水以幽灵般的速度灌入，在囊袋里摸索、扩散，撑开枯槁粘连的皮。口器发声，如痛苦的尖叫，以至于这种身体开启仪式常常被认作苦刑。初始的汁水不必灌满，只是用以撑开塌陷的皮肤形成空腔，来开启一种需要。这与其说是填充，不如说是关于缺失的提醒。成年的膜人将因为这份空缺，永不停歇地寻求更多，继续用惊恐的嘴不停地搜寻、吞入一切。其身体将逐渐饱胀，几乎撑破，稍有不慎便会爆裂死亡。疼痛和危险不会使之停止渴望，因为他们生来便善于忍耐。这是他们成年的礼物。

For the membranoids, the filling is a rite of passage carried out by a priest. In the first three hundred days of its life, the membranoid’s body is an empty, curled-up, shriveled sac with translucent white skin, thin as a cicada’s wing, so inconspicuous that it’s easy to miss. When the day arrives, the priest rolls over, extends a thin tube into its mouth—its only orifice. A black liquid seeps in with a ghostly speed, searching, stretching, expanding the sticky dry skin. Its mouth makes a sound like a cry of pain, which is why this body opening ceremony is often taken for torture. The initial liquid doesn’t need to fill the creature, it merely creates a cavity to awaken a need. It’s less a filling than the recognition of a lack. Because of this lack, the adult membranoids will always be unsatisfied, constantly seeking to swallow everything in its fearsome mouth. Its body will gradually swell almost to the point of bursting, and if it’s not careful it will split open and die. Pain and danger won’t halt its desire, because the membranoids have an innate endurance. This is the gift of their coming of age.  