Като вехтошар на спомени, аз искрено вярвам в идеята за енергията, таяща се във всяко нещо – от човека, с който разговаряш – до пръстена на баба ти, който носиш.
Но
Вещите помнят ли завинаги? Има ли давност приетата енергия? Забравят ли те имената на собствениците си, както ние забравяме имената на познати?
Или просто не можеш да усетиш енергията на някои предмети, както някои хора не те допускат до себе си веднага?
“I like this car,” Yuki spoke up after a while. “What is it?” “A Subaru,” I said. “I got it used from a friend. Not many people look twice at it.” “I don’t know much about cars, but I like the way it feels.” “It’s probably because I shower it with warmth and affection.” “So that makes it nice and friendly?” “Harmonics,” I explained. “What?” “The car and I are pals. We help each other out. I enter its space, and I give off good vibes. Which creates a nice atomsphere. The car picks up on that. Which makes me feel good, and it makes the car feel good too.” “A machine can feel good?” “You didn’t know that? Don’t ask me how, though. Machines can get happy, but they can get angry too. I have no logical explanation for it. I just know from experience.” “You mean, machines are like humans?” I shook my head. “No, not like humans. With machines, the feeling is, well, more finite. It doesn’t go any further. With humans, it’s different. The feeling is always changing. Like if you love somebody, the love is always shifting or wavering. It’s always questioning or inflating or disappearing or denying or hurting. And the thing is, you can’t do anything about it, you can’t control it. With my Subaru, it’s not so complicated.”