Chapter 250 Campfire on a Snowy Night (Part 4)

Since the last ice-covered Gotham incident, the temperature of the city has begun to drop. Not long after the summer, the temperature dropped a lot. Until last night, the fine drizzle turned into ice. The next morning, Schiller, who came to work at Arkham Hospital, put his umbrella at the door of the office and sighed.

When Mrs. Miller walked into the room with a kettle, she looked back at the umbrella leaning against the door. She put the kettle on Schiller's table and said, "Dr. Rodriguez, why are you still using that broken umbrella?"

Schiller took the kettle and poured water for himself, shrugging and saying, "It wasn't too bad before. I asked someone to make an extra frame to reinforce it. It can still be used. Who knows that it's not raining in Gotham these days, but hail, so..."

His eyes passed Mrs. Miller and looked at his umbrella. It was obvious that one of the ribs on it was broken. Even if it was not opened, you could see obvious dents.

Mrs. Miller was once a head nurse. After retirement, she was rehired by the hospital and is now the housekeeper of Arkham Mental Hospital. She is a skinny old woman, but in good spirits.

She stretched out her hand to tighten her woolen shawl and said, "The weather has been getting weirder and weirder recently. It's hail today, and it might snow tomorrow. I'll have someone come and light up the fireplace later."

"Oh, ma'am, you always like to exaggerate. It's still a long way to go." Schiller said after taking a sip of hot water.

Then he took out his schedule and asked Mrs. Miller: "Who is the first patient this morning? Is there anyone who needs my ward?"

"I don't think so." Mrs. Miller shook her head and said, she picked up a notebook from the side, looked at it and said: "This morning, Mr. Oswald Cobble will have a follow-up visit, which will take about two hours. After that, Anthony and Miss Scott on the third floor will also have follow-up visits, which will take two hours in total, so I will come to collect the cases and files at 12 noon..."

Mrs. Miller closed the notebook with a "snap" and said: "The afternoon is private time. Your two friends have made an appointment. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, thank you. Oh, by the way, I have another friend coming over in the evening, but he called my private number..."

Mrs. Miller put the notebook back on the bookshelf on the table, A little helpless, he said: "Dr. Schiller, you have to know that generally speaking, mental hospitals do not allow people without appointments to enter, and appointments need to be made by calling the hospital one day in advance. If you are contacted through your personal mobile phone, it must be at least two days in advance..."

"Yes, I know, Mrs. Miller, but my friend's situation is a bit special. If I don't allow him to enter, he may go to the TV station to grab the camera."

"Okay, you can make an exception this time, but next time please remember to remind him to make an appointment by calling the hospital, otherwise if any problems arise, the hospital will not be responsible. Dr. Schiller, this is also for your own good."

"Okay, thank you."

The hot water was poured into the cup, making a "sizzling" sound, and a fine white smoke rose from the cup. Schiller took a sip of hot water, and when he put down the cup, he looked at Copperbot's face through the smoke on the opposite side.

He is much better than before. Although his cheeks are still thin and his eyeballs are sunken, it can be seen that his hair has been groomed, his face is much rosier, and his lips are no longer chapped.

Schiller flipped through his medical records and said, "Although I have told you many times, I still want to emphasize again that your current living environment is not conducive to your recuperation. If possible, it is better to change houses."

"Not to mention the poor lighting and air environment there, the hygiene alone is a big problem."

Schiller put down the medical records again, looked at Cobert and asked, "How is your mother?"

"She is fine."

"What's wrong? You seem to have something to say?"

Schiller saw that Cobert opposite him looked a little hesitant, he put the case in his hand on the table, and then stacked it with other documents on the table, aligned the edges on the table, and put it aside.

He put his arm on the table and said, "The normal follow-up is over, but there are still 20 minutes left. Next is the free treatment time. You can say whatever you want."

"Professor Freese suggested that I... go to high school." Cobblepot also put his hands on the table, but he crossed his fingers and squeezed them tightly. He said, "That's ridiculous, right? How could I go to high school?"

"Why do you think it's ridiculous? Why do you think you can't go to high school?"

"I..." Cobblepot hesitated, as if he didn't know how to express his emotions, so Schiller said for him: "Because this is not common in Gotham, right?"

"Almost everyone around you doesn't study, let alone high school. They may not even finish elementary school and leave school. You are the same."

"Maybe in your life plan, you have never followed the route of studying step by step and then taking the college entrance examination..."

Cobert nodded. He still looked very nervous, his Adam's apple was always trembling up and down. He said, "This won't work. I can't go to school. I don't have tuition fees, and my mother needs someone to take care of her."

"But now, these shouldn't be a problem. The money you earn now is enough for you to live, and then pay tuition fees, and it's enough for you to have your mother hospitalized for treatment, and even hire a nurse to accompany her all day."

"Yes, but I don't know how to choose..." Cobert hesitated. He didn't want to hide anything, but his ability to express himself made it impossible for him to fully describe his current state of mind, so Schiller could only guide him and say, "I don't know how to choose. What are your options?"

"I can continue to work, make a lot of money, open a restaurant, and then buy a luxurious house for my mother to live in. That's what I originally planned..." Cobert bit his lip and said vaguely.

"You seem to feel a little ashamed when you describe your goal. Why?"

"Because Professor Freese described a completely different life to me, his experience..."

"What is that?"

Cobert hesitated and seemed unable to say it. This was completely different from the eloquent state when he described his criminal plan.

He had a very poor imagination of a good life, and even less language and vocabulary to describe this kind of life.

"He lives in a very good family, has a big country house, a big yard, brothers and sisters, and a dog. He goes to school by bus, studies in the classroom, and goes from junior high school to high school. Then he is admitted to a very good university with very good grades..."

Coppert's vocabulary is very empty. The adjectives he uses for his life are nothing more than good, big, and happy. Schiller heard this and said, "What kind of house do you think is big?"

Coppert's hands circled and said, "It's probably about the same as those in the rich areas in the south."

"Is that how Professor Freese described it to you? His family has a house that is about the same size as the rich areas in the south?"

Coppert shook his head and said, "No, he didn't say that."

"Perhaps the most important thing you care about is the house that is big. The point is a little off. The point of him telling you these things is not how good his house is, how big his yard is, what kind of car he drives, or how good the school he goes to. "

"His essence is not to show off to you how happy his childhood life is, nor to tell you that as long as you go to high school, you can live this kind of life..."

"Your memory should be very good, so have you noticed that when he described this kind of life to you, and when you are relaying his words to me now, there is any difference?"

Cobert was silent for a while, and then said: "I don't have as rich a vocabulary as him, nor as abundant emotions, I feel my brain is blank..."

He seemed to open up the conversation box, but the end of his tone was still a little trembling, as if he was eager to spit out the last tail sound.

"When he described this kind of life to me, it was very contagious, making me both envious and jealous, but now I can't describe it..."

"There may be two reasons for this problem. One is that you have never experienced such a life, and all your fantasies about a better life are still just fantasies. This is a problem of experience, but more importantly..."

"Cobert, do you know why people study?" Schiller took a sip of water, and Cobert answered him: "To learn knowledge? And then get a degree?"

"This is only part of it."

Schiller put down the cup, and he said to Cobert in a metaphor as concise and easy to understand as possible: "Your brain is like a precision machine, but even the most sophisticated machine needs to be active frequently to avoid rust."

"When your brain always turns in one direction, inertia will be generated, and those gears and parts will change their own structure according to the direction you turn, and then in this regard, your brain will turn faster and smoother, and then the parts and gears will be better matched, and they will turn faster, "

"This will make your talents in a certain area stand out, but it will also bring many problems. When these parts are specialized in a certain direction, they are actually sacrificing balance in exchange for efficiency, which will reduce people's mental stability."

"Now you should have discovered that when you think about conspiracies, crimes, interpersonal relationships, and business contexts, your brain is extremely smooth. This is normal because you were born and grew up in Gotham. These things are more useful than art, literature, and philosophy."

"But the process of learning is actually the process of letting your brain regain balance."

"You don't have to memorize all the books on art, literature, and philosophy in the world and apply them in life. This is impossible."

"Just like even if you learn advanced mathematical theories, it won't be of much help to you in managing the water system. It's just that there is no need for any advanced theories to manage water pipes."

"But this is actually helping your brain parts and gears to run in another direction, making it more balanced and stable."

"In addition to knowledge, we also learn ways of thinking from learning. When you face a matter, using more ways of thinking and a more comprehensive perspective on the problem can greatly improve your mental stability."

"When you have more angles to look at a matter, you can avoid thinking into a dead end or emotions falling into extremes to a large extent."

Cobert saw an all-encompassing calm power in Schiller's eyes, which was stronger than what he felt in Victor.

For the first time, he understood the metaphor of "eyes are windows to the soul" because he saw the endless vast ocean in Schiller's eyes.

The last time he had this feeling was when he was facing the Godfather, but the Godfather carried an irresistible power, more like a violent storm on the sea, but Schiller was more like an endless deep sea, quiet, peaceful, but bottomless.

Cobert rubbed his clenched index fingers against each other, and he felt a cool breeze, but it was not because of the weather.

In his somewhat imperfect imagination, he was like a penguin swaying on the ice, with Gotham's night storms above his head and the bottomless sea under his feet.

Now, there are two paths before him. Should he be a bird that soars with the wind, or jump into the sea and become a fish that bravely moves forward in the sea of ​​learning?

For the first time, his brain, which always rotates in one direction, has some friction sounds of parts and gears, which sound like thunder in the cold night to him.

But Cobert did not feel afraid. After the fireplace in the room was lit, a subtle warmth came.

If the rain in Gotham never dissipates all year round, and he does not have an umbrella to shelter him from the wind and rain, then let him jump into the sea and swim forward in the ocean currents and whirlpools until he finds his shelter, freezes the water there into ice, and builds a house for himself.

With a "gulp", Schiller heard the sound of Cobert swallowing hard, but it sounded more like the sound of some young aquatic bird jumping into the sea from the ice.