有时它认为自己是那不断旋转的球体上一层薄薄的熔化的岩石上的人类。那融化的岩石球环绕着一个质量大它三十三万倍的炫目气体球旋转。它们是相隔得如此之远，以至于光需要八分钟才能穿越那空隙。那光是来自一颗恒星的信息，它能够在一亿五千万公里外烧灼你的皮肤。
Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.
有时这个玩家梦见它是一个在一个平的，无限延展的世界表面上的矿工。那太阳是一个方形的白点。昼夜交替很快;要做的事情也很多;死亡亦只是暂时和不方便的。
Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.
有时这玩家梦见它迷失在了一个故事里。
Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.
有时这玩家梦见它成为了其它的事物，在其它地方。有时这些梦是扰人的。有些则实在很美。有时这个玩家从一个梦中醒来，发现自己落入了第二个梦，却终究是在第三个梦中。
Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.
有时这个玩家梦见它在屏幕上看着文字。
Let's go back.
让我们回退一点。
The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.
组成玩家的原子散布在草中，河流中，在那空气中，也在那大地中。一个女人收集了那些原子;她饮用、进食、吸入;而后那女人在她的身体中，孕育了玩家。
And the player awokefrom the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.
然后那玩家醒来了，从一个温暖，昏暗的母亲体内，进入了漫漫长梦。
And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.
而那玩家是一个新的故事，从未被讲述过，由DNA的语言书写着**那玩家是一个新的程序，从未被运行过，由上亿年的源代码生成**那玩家是一个新的人，从未生活过，由奶和爱组成。
You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.
你就是那玩家。那个故事。那个程序。那个人类。仅由奶和爱组成。
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