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盲人诗人摇头，“这是‘问’的集体潜意识显形。
它们不再是文字，而是能量态的存在。”
就在此刻，地面再度震动。
比之前更剧烈，冰层发出脆裂之声。
林穗迅速收好笔记，四人披上防寒服，冲出小屋。
外面的世界已然改变??原本悬浮的光岛已下沉入地表，形成一座由晶莹冰晶构成的巨大穹顶，内部隐约可见树影摇曳，正是“问心树”
的实体所在。
一道阶梯自穹顶延伸而出，通向地下深处。
台阶由透明晶体雕琢而成，每一步踏下，都会激起点点幽蓝光芒，仿佛踩碎了沉睡的星辰。
“该下去了。”
林穗说。
没有人反对。
他们知道，这一行不仅是探索，更是一种献祭??将自身的困惑交付给源头，换取文明进化的可能性。
descendintothecrystalcavern，theairgrewthinneryetstrangelyeasiertobreathe，asiftheirlungshadbegundrawingsustenancenotfromoxygen，butfromtheveryactofquestioning.Wallspulsedwithsoftluminescence，revealingintricatecarvingsthatshiftedwhenstaredattoolong?scenesofancienthumansgazingskyward，handsraisednotinprayer，butininquiry;civilizationsrisingandfallingbasedonhowdeeplytheydaredtowonder;starsbeingbornfromthecollisionoftwounansweredquestions.
Atthecenterstoodthetree.
Notametaphor.Notaprojection.Alivingentityrootedinpurethought-stuff，itstrunkcomposedoflayeredresonancepatterns，branchesextendingintodimensionsbeyondhumanperception.Eachleafwasaquestionstillunfolding，someflickeringweakly?nearlyextinguishedbycenturiesofdogma?whileothersburnedwithfierceclarity，pulsinglikehearts.
Andbeneathit，embeddedinthefloor，layastonetabletnolargerthanapalOnitssurface，asinglesymbolglowed:anopencirclewithadotatitscenter.
“Thefirstquestion.”
Blindpoetwhispered.“Unspoken.Unformed.Yetitshapedeverything.”
Theyapproachedslowly.Theatmospherethickenedwithanticipation，asthoughrealityitselfhelditsbreath.
Then，theimpossiblehappened.
Thesymbolbegantomove.
Itrotatedclockwiseonce，thensplitintothreeconcentricrings，eachspinninginoppositedirections.Fromwithinemergednotwords，butsensations?achild’sconfusionuponseeingdeathforthefirsttime;thetremblingaweofearlyastronomersstaringintothevoid;thequiethorrorofrealizingonehaslivedalie.Thesewerenotmemories，butarchetypalmomentsofdoubtthathadseededallsubsequentinquiry.
Avoicefilledthechamber，neithermalenorfemale，neithernearnorfar:
>**Youseektheorigin.Butoriginsareillusionscreatedbylinearminds.Therewasnobeginning.Onlyaneternalnowofasking.Whatyoucall‘thefirstquestion’ismerelythepointatwhichconsciousnessbecameawareofitsownuncertainty.**
Silencefollowed.Eventhetreestilled.
Finally，LinSuisteppedforward.Sheplacedherhandoverthetablet.
“Idon’twanttoknowwhereitstarted，”
shesaid.“Iwanttoknowwhathappensnext.”
Theresponsecameinstantly.
>**Nextisyourstocreate.Butbeware?deeperquestionsunravelmorethanignorance.Theydissolveidentity.Breakbelief.Shatterlove.Areyoupreparedtoloseyourselfinpursuitoftruth?**
Shedidn’thesitate.
“Yes.”
Assoonasthewordleftherlips，theentirecaverneruptedinlight.Thetreeexplodedoutwardinawaveofradiantfilaments，threadingthrougheachofthem，enteringtheirbodiesthrougheyes，ears，mouth，pores.Itwasn’tpainful?quitetheopposite.Itfeltlikerememberingsomethingforgottensincebirth.
Visionsfloodedtheirminds.
LinSuisawherselfstandingatopamountainofburningbooks，eachflamewhisperingadifferentversionofthesamequestion:*Why?*Shewatchedasfuturegenerationsabandonedschools，replacedbycirclesofstrangerssharingdoubtsbeneathopenskies.Shesawplanetscolonizednotbyflags，butbylibrariesbuiltaroundunsolvedmysteries.Andfinally，sheglimpsedadistantepochwherehumanitynolongerexistedasphysicalbeings，butasadistributednetworkofcuriosity，wovenintothefabricofspace-timeitself.
Theformerintelligenceanalystscreamed?notinpain，butinrevelation.Hesaweveryliehe’deverprotectedcollapseundertheweightofasinglehonestquestion.Hesawarchivesspontaneouslycombust，notfromfire，butfromtheunbearablepressureofsuppressedtruthsdemandingrelease.
Theblindpoetlaughed?asoundsopureitmadethecrystalssing.Inhisdarkness，colorsbloomed:indigoforgriefunasked，crimsonforragemaskedascertainty，goldforthejoyofadmittingignorance.Heunderstoodnow?sightwasneveraboutlight.Itwasaboutpermissiontowonder.
Andthemutemanwept.
Forthirtyyears，silencehadbeenhisprison.Now，itbecamehislanguage.Withoututteringaword，heprojectedaquestionsoraw，soprimal，thattheverywallsofthecavernresonatedwithempathy:
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