About two hours later, the raccoon stood on the table, staring down at his belly in amazement. Then he flicked his tail, rolled his shoulders, and turned in a circle on the spot.
The raccoon looked at Schiller in shock and said, "Are you sure you're just a psychiatrist? That was a Miraculous Hand of Healing!"
As Schiller scribbled on the medical record, he said, "Don't mention it. I'd rather know what trouble you've gotten yourself into."
At the mention of this, the raccoon's expression changed. A conflicted look crossed his face, but then he waved a paw, sat on the edge of the table, and swung his legs. "We haven't introduced ourselves yet. My name's Rocket. You can call me Rocket Cat too. What's your name?"
"You're a cat? Aren't you a raccoon?"
"I don't know what a raccoon is." Rocket Raccoon shook his head. "My former owner called me 'cat'... or the name of some other pet. I can't remember very clearly. After those machines took over my brain, my old memories became blurrier and blurrier."
"My name is Schiller Rodriguez. Since my surname may be difficult for you to pronounce, you can just call me Doctor Schiller."
"Fine, Doctor Schiller. Thank you for saving me, but I'd advise you not to get involved in this. This isn't something humans can handle."
Rocket Raccoon crossed his arms and put on a deliberately profound expression. Schiller smiled, pulled over a chair, and sat opposite him. Looking at him, he said, "Then I should at least know what it is, shouldn't I? Would you be willing to tell me?"
Rocket Raccoon raised a paw and touched his chest. He could feel that although his appearance had not changed, his insides had been completely renewed. The doctor had just painlessly replaced