Schiller, standing by the window, drew the curtains. A hoarse voice came from behind him. "Doctor, what is it?"
"Nothing. I thought I saw a shooting star just now." Shaking his head, Schiller turned back and said to Robert, who was lying in bed, "Ever since Iron Man appeared, there have been more and more shooting stars over New York. I hope the couples at the academy never find out that the shooting stars they admire might just be failed plane crashes."
Robert looked far more stable than before. He could even smile at the joke, though his expression was still somewhat stiff, thanks to the sedatives he had taken.
"I'm sorry, Robert. Because of your powerful abilities, sedatives have to be used during treatment. Otherwise, if you were to lose control, everything here might be destroyed." Schiller held a notebook as he sat back down beside the bed.
"Of course, Doctor." Robert lowered his head and looked at his hands. "Ever since I gained these abilities, I've always been causing destruction. Sometimes, I can't even tell whether I did it on purpose or whether my powers simply went out of control..."
"Even before I had these abilities, I was always getting into trouble." Robert looked a little drowsy, but there seemed to be things he had to get off his chest. "Christmas is coming soon, right? I remember the Christmas before I left home. The atmosphere in my room wasn't even as good as it is in this hospital ward."
"What happened?" Schiller asked.
"I don't remember anymore." Robert shook his head. "But it was probably some trivial matter. Maybe I didn't fly to the nearest airport so he could pick me up, or maybe I brought home a girlfriend he didn't like..."
"Who is he?"
"My father." Robert