Chapter 2585: Whistling Down (Forty-Three)

Chapter 2559: Down the Xiaoxiao River (Forty-three)

After leaving the ward, Schiller called Raven, and the two prepared to drive home together, but when they came downstairs, they found Victor waiting at the door.

"Is the principal okay?" Victor asked with some concern.

Schiller shook his head and said, "He does feel a little depressed, but he should be better soon."

"This is the benefit of having a master of psychology." Victor also laughed, then looked at Raven and said, "I never heard that you have a brother. Is she your brother's daughter?"

"She is my distant niece." Schiller said, "So distant that they have no contact for at least three generations."

"Is she going to the same high school as Dick and the others?"

"Yes, they knew each other before and have a good relationship. Oh, by the way." Schiller turned to look at Raven and said, "Aren't you going to have a dinner? When are you going?"

"It was supposed to be today God, but I can also..."

"Which restaurant? I'll take you there."

Raven said the name of a restaurant not far from Gotham University. Victor waved to Schiller and said, "You go back and rest. I'll take her there."

Schiller nodded to Raven and left. Raven sighed and followed Victor. Victor turned to look at her and said, "What's wrong? Did Schiller scold you?"

"On the contrary, I did something bad, but he didn't blame me. I felt weird." Raven was obviously not in a good mood and looked a little depressed. His bright red hair also became duller.

Victor squinted his eyes in the sunshine, opened the car door for her and said, "Maybe it's a big deal that the sky is about to fall in your eyes, but it's nothing to us."

"I peeked into his refrigerator and caused a small explosion. Now his house is in a mess. I guess the housewarming party can't be held as scheduled. He should be rushing back to write letters."

"That's really the sky is falling." Although Victor said this, he didn't feel much surprise or anger. He said as if he was joking, "It's hard to imagine how Schiller will clean up the house. I hope he will be successful."

Schiller drove back to the house. The previous police, police cars and cordons all disappeared. Roy must have hit hard. Clay should be in a mess now.

Opening the door to the yard and walking in, there was no big problem except for a few more footprints in the front yard. The real problem was the inside of the house.

There were many dirty footprints on the porch of the room, most of which were made by the police, and some were covered with blood. After all, the physical evidence police who had assembled the body had also been here before.

After opening the door, in addition to the previously arranged furnishings lying on the ground in a mess, the most important thing is that the refrigerator is broken and the kitchen is not clean, so it is impossible to use it to cook food for the housewarming party.

When the back door is opened, the backyard is even more outrageous. There is a big pit in the middle, at least half a meter deep. The barbecue grill and the previous table football assembly parts were blown apart. Many parts were like burnt and hidden in the grass.

Fortunately, there was nothing on the second floor. Schiller, who had been busy for a day and a night, felt a little sleepy. Even if he couldn't stand the hygiene downstairs, he could only go back to sleep first.

Almost at the moment when Schiller's head touched the pillow, he fell asleep. He hadn't slept so deeply for a long time.

In the dream that was spinning, Schiller saw some fragments of his childhood again, but this time the protagonist of the story was no longer him or the doctors and nurses he often came into contact with, but those familiar strangers who always appeared in his memory but had no connection with him.

The cleaning lady always passed by the door of his ward at 3 pm. She would mop the floor at the door while talking to young Schiller.

At that time, Schiller could not understand what she said, or he was not listening at all. He was immersed in his own world and completely detached from reality, but the fat lady did not seem to care whether he could understand or not. She always said things like how old he was, whether he had eaten, and the doctor said he was doing well.

At about 6 pm, a skinny old man would come to collect the garbage. He would park the cleaning car at the door of the room, pick up the garbage can at the door, throw the garbage bag and the garbage inside into the car, and replace it with a new garbage bag.

Schiller usually did not create garbage. The garbage can in his room was basically filled with wrongly written convenience notes or snack packaging thrown by the doctors and nurses who came to take care of him.

The old man who collected the garbage would comment on everything, and then sigh a few words about how life is good now, and snacks can be eaten as meals. He had eaten a bite of his grandson's biscuits before, and drank several large glasses of water because of the sweetness.

When the lights go out at 9 p.m., the security guard will do his last round of patrols. He will knock on the door gently, push it open a crack, and stick his big head in. He will squint his small eyes and tell Schiller to turn off the lights and go to bed in a coaxing tone.

These people come every day, at a fixed time and place, and gradually become part of Schiller's daily routine, but he has never had any contact with them. They look at him and talk unilaterally, and Schiller never responds.

But Schiller's memory far exceeds that of ordinary people still allows him to remember these people's actions, expressions and words. For a long time, he didn't understand what they were doing, but as his mental state improved and he learned common sense, he could probably understand that these people maintained the normal operation of this organization.

But Schiller actually didn't know what normal was. His ward was always clean, the corridor was never dusty, the garbage in the trash can would not stay overnight, and he never encountered any danger.

When he grew up, he had many encounters with such people, including cleaners who cleaned the university, garbage truck drivers, and parking lot security guards.

Many times they would greet Schiller, mostly praising his academic achievements, envying his extraordinary talents, and complimenting him on his future achievements, as if Schiller's current choice was so difficult and how difficult it was to succeed.

It was as if they themselves had no ability to choose this path, so they chose the current life as cleaners, garbage disposal workers, and security guards.

It was not until Schiller became an adult and independent that he realized that things seemed not to be like this. For him, being a cleaner to clean up, a garbage disposal worker to deal with garbage, or even a security patrol, was much more difficult than doing academic work.

It is actually very difficult to play the role of a small screw at the bottom of a huge organization. It is precisely because of the low level and small size that no one has any power. No one listens to or believes what you say, and the work is particularly difficult.

Even if Schiller is just a college student, when he has excellent grades and can bring benefits to his tutor, his boss will seriously consider his proposal. Even if he does not consider it, Schiller has a way to make him consider it.

But Schiller encountered several times that a toilet door was broken and a faucet did not work. The cleaners were complaining, but no one fixed it.

If someone asked, these small screws could only say "I am just a sweeper. If the superiors don't fix it, I can't do anything."

The word "no way" was like a horror movie to Schiller at that time. He had never had no way in his life. Even if he did not have the ability for the time being, he at least had a plan and would be able to achieve it sooner or later.

The fact is that he has a way to deal with everything, not to mention fixing a toilet door and a faucet. Because of some special reasons, he had no time to take the exam, or failed the exam, and he only had one day left to deal with it, he also had a way.

But Dr. Anatoly held a different view. He believed that Schiller had to try to accept his "helplessness" because only when he admitted this could he see how people were connected from another perspective.

Later, Schiller gradually understood how these ordinary people who were always helpless survived in this society.

When a toilet door was broken, they would go to the office to borrow a piece of paper from the teacher and write a notice, or simply ask someone to help hold the broken door to block the door of the cubicle and turn it into a tool room.

When the faucet was broken and they couldn't wash the mop, they took turns to get water from other bathrooms downstairs, and formed a division of labor and cooperation mode where one person mopped the floor and one person changed the water.

This is how they survived. It sounds very simple, but it was extremely difficult for Schiller.

If it were him, he would choose to knock his boss unconscious and throw him into the cubicle with a broken door, so that his boss could experience the serious consequences of a broken toilet door.

Putting aside the legal and moral issues, this method is actually much more troublesome than the methods of ordinary people. First, you need to identify the target person, find the right time to start, avoid surveillance cameras, and create an alibi.

It is indeed interesting to listen to the inactive boss scolding in the toilet cubicle, but this fun does not make up for the energy and time consumed. It is more like Schiller's compensation for himself after losing more energy and time for no reason, similar to "at least there is fun to watch."

The essence is that Schiller can't just walk to the nearest office and knock on the door, reach out to take the paper on the table and say "borrow a piece of paper" to the office teacher sitting there.

After waking up, Schiller sat by the bed and tidied his hair, then sat by the bed for a long time until the sunset, and some dazzling golden light dissolved into the silent air in the room through the gently floating window screen.

There are too many things to do. Schiller thought, if he pushed the door open and walked out now, and walked down a few stairs, he would see a pile of troubles that he could not deal with at all. If he chose to open the front door and the back door again, the trouble would be doubled.

And these troubles will bring more troubles, like dominoes falling one by one. If he can't clean up the house immediately, the housewarming party tonight can't be held.

If the party can't be held as scheduled, he will have to rewrite the invitations, tell everyone the time of the party has changed and apologize to them.

And to deliver these letters smoothly, you need a postman, but the postman now should have almost become fertilizer.

The post office has always been short of people, and it is difficult for the new employees to deliver so many letters at one time. If all the letters are not delivered before the party, someone will think that the party will be held as scheduled and come with food and drinks. Schiller will have to refuse them at the door and apologize to them.

Then when he sends the invitations again, he may be rejected by these people because he failed to handle it properly, making the other party go in vain and full of disappointment.

Schiller lay down slowly, leaning on the pillow, reaching for the cigar in the bedside table, but the cigar he touched was not cut well, and the cigar cutter was nowhere to be found.

Schiller had no choice but to put the box back and got up to pour himself a glass of water. As soon as he finished pouring the water, he heard a noise at the door.