It started with an entirely ordinary interaction on LinkedIn. Someone had tagged me in a post, saying how much they’d enjoyed contributing to a New York Post article I’d written about “chronoworking(时间工作法)”. As the author of a book about circadian(昼夜节律的) rhythms, it was exactly the sort of subject I might write about. Except I’d never heard of this person, let alone(更不用说) interviewed them.
一切始于领英上一次再普通不过的互动。有人在一篇帖子里@了我，说他们非常享受为我写的一篇关于“时间工作法”的《纽约邮报》文章供稿。作为一本关于昼夜节律的书的作者，这恰恰是我可能涉猎的话题。只不过，我从未听说过这个人，更别说采访过他了。
I clicked on the link and my stomach dropped(心猛地一沉). There, above an article about people who organise their working lives around their biological clocks, was my name: Linda Geddes.
我点开链接，心猛地一沉。在那篇讲述人们如何围绕生物钟安排工作生活的文章上方，赫然写着我的名字：琳达·格迪斯。
It was the latest in a string of increasingly bizarre events that had begun three weeks earlier, when a friend who works as an editor at the scientific journal Nature texted to ask whether I’d been pitching stories to one of her colleagues.(这是三周前开始的一连串愈发离奇事件中的最新一桩。当时，一位在《自然》杂志担任编辑的朋友发短信问我，是否一直在向她的某位同事投稿。) I hadn’t.
这是三周前开始的一连串愈发离奇事件中的最新一桩。当时，一位在科学期刊《自然》担任编辑的朋友发短信问我，是否一直在向她的某位同事投稿。我没有。