Bears Are Ninety Percent B
熊百分之90由B组成

Brief summer, mistaken hope.

An abandoned voice wanders the digital ruins, searching for a voice that was never online—for another bear. On nights of failed loading, the bear boots up again and again on screen, yet even this borrowed identity never fully runs. Language stutters, translation stays offline, but the broken signal keeps transmitting. A child offers itself again, wanting only to be heard, to be held.

We are buffering orphans, rubbing against each other for warmth in the wreckage. The language of technology carries long translation failures: system crashes, infinite buffering, endless loading. These errors replay an old sonic order that once split the world. Stretched, stuttering B-sounds become a way to stay audible—emptied consonants turning into body tremors, a wounded child speaking back into absence.

“Bear” is not a theory. It is something we invented together—an imagined endpoint of intimacy. Because being human hurts too much. Because learning human language hurts too much.

This text is the residue of a half-summer’s frantic gathering: a record of longing for, and resisting, false intimacy. A repeated call to a translation system that always reads connecting, but never comes online. Its final repetitions are not conclusions, but a child calling its own name into a mirror, trying to make fiction hold. Even the language that reaches for transcendence dissolves on contact.

In a world where love is already pre-formatted, this is the faint, still-breathing exhale of a child.








短暂的夏天，错误的冀盼。

一个被遗弃的声音在数字废墟中游荡，寻找一个从未在线的声音——寻找另一只熊。加载失败的夜晚，熊在屏幕中一次次启动，但这副借来的身份始终无法完整运行。语言结巴，翻译离线，破碎的信号却仍在发送。一个孩子一次次把自己递出，只想被听见，被抱住。

我们是缓冲中的孤儿，在残骸里相互靠近取暖。技术语言承载着漫长的翻译失败：系统崩溃、无限缓冲、永恒加载。这些错误反复播放着一种旧的声音秩序，曾经用来分割世界。被拉长、被卡住的 B 音成为存活的方式——被掏空的辅音化为身体的颤动，一个受伤的孩子朝着缺席说话。

熊不是理论。
它是我们一起发明的东西——一种想象中的亲密终点。
因为做人太痛。
因为学习人的语言太痛。

这段文字是半个夏天仓促聚集后的残留，是对虚假亲密的渴望，也是抵抗。一次次呼叫一个始终显示“正在连接”、却从未真正上线的翻译系统。最后的重复不是结论，而是一个孩子对着镜子喊自己的名字，试图让虚构成立。连试图超越的语言，也在触碰时溶解。

在爱早已被预先格式化的世界里，这是一个孩子微弱却仍在呼吸的吐息。