自由鬥士 A freedom fighter

She began altering records, small changes at first. A digit added here, a date shifted there.

2024.06.17

在一個以數字取代名字的城市裡，珍只是人群中的一張臉。生活是一連串的數字，每個人從出生起就被標記和分類。但在數據和監控的層層包裹下，有一顆反叛者的心在跳動。

珍在檔案館工作，一份單調的工作，每天都在數位記錄中翻找，唯一的色彩是那些投射在她桌上的熒幕發出的怪異光影。每天，她看著生命被簡化為數據庫中的條目，每個人都只是系統中的一個小點。正是在這些無盡的數據行中，珍找到了她的目標。

她開始更改記錄，起初是小改動。這裡加一個數字，那裡改一個日期。當局稱之為故障，但對那些少數人來說，這是自由的味道。第一次慶祝生日，宵禁延長，旅行限制解除。反叛的低語開始了，在霓虹燈照亮的巷子裡悄悄傳遞。

隨著故障的增多，珍的大膽行為也增加了。她開始與像她一樣的其他人會面，沒有名字的臉孔，他們都在匿名的旗幟下團結起來。他們自稱為「無名者」，他們的使命很清楚：恢復那些無名者的身份。

他們接管中央服務器的那一夜充滿了混亂。代碼被重寫，防火牆被突破，破曉時分，城市迎來了新的開始。熒幕重新亮起，不再顯示數字，而是名字——由父母給予的真實名字，不是機器指派的。

珍看著城市變革。人們重新獲得了他們的身份，擁抱自由的混亂超過壓迫的秩序。在廣場的中心，原本立著創始者的雕像的地方，新豎立了一個無臉的英雄雕像，向所有敢於重新奪回他們名字和故事的人致敬。

In the city where numbers replaced names, Jane was just another face in the crowd. Life was a series of digits, every individual tagged and categorized from birth. But beneath the layers of data and surveillance, there beat the heart of a rebel.

Jane worked in the archives, a dreary job sifting through digital records, the only splash of color being the glowing screens that cast eerie shadows on her desk. Every day, she saw lives reduced to entries in a database, each person a mere blip in the system. It was in these endless rows of data that Jane found her purpose.

She began altering records, small changes at first. A digit added here, a date shifted there. The authorities called it glitches, but for those few individuals, it was a taste of freedom. Birthdays were celebrated for the first time, curfews extended, travel restrictions lifted. The whispers of rebellion started, carried on hushed tones through the neon-lit alleys.

As the glitches grew, so did Jane's boldness. She started meeting others like her, faces without names, all united under the banner of anonymity. They called themselves "The Nameless," and their mission was clear: to restore identity to the identity-less.

The night they took over the Central Server was filled with chaos. Codes were rewritten, firewalls breached, and by dawn, the city awoke to a new beginning. Screens flickered back to life, displaying not numbers, but names—real names given by parents, not assigned by machines.

Jane watched as the city transformed. People reclaimed their identities, embracing the chaos of freedom over the order of oppression. And in the heart of the square, where once stood a statue of the founder, a new figure was erected—a faceless hero, a tribute to all who dare to reclaim their names and stories.

My Name is Jane.