Snowy Night Campfire (IV)

Since the last incident of freezing Gotham, the temperature in the city has been dropping. Summer had only been over for a short time, but the temperature had dropped significantly. Until last night, the drizzle turned into ice. The next morning, Schiller, who was on his way to work at Arkham Hospital, put his umbrella on the door of his office and sighed.

As Mrs. Miller entered the room with the kettle, she glanced back at the umbrella leaning against the door. As she placed the kettle on Schiller's table, she said, "Dr. Rodriguez, why are you still using that old, worn-out umbrella?"

Schiller took the water bottle, poured himself some water, and shrugged, saying, "It wasn't too badly damaged before. I had someone make an extra frame to reinforce it, and it was still usable. But who knew that these past few days, Gotham wouldn't be experiencing rain, but hail, so..."

His gaze passed over Mrs. Miller and fell on his own umbrella. It was obvious that one of the ribs was broken; even without opening it, a noticeable dent was visible.

Mrs. Miller was a former head nurse who was rehired by the hospital after retirement and is now the head housekeeper of Arkham Asylum. She is a somewhat thin old woman, but in good spirits.

She reached up and tightened her woolen shawl around her shoulders, saying, "The weather has been getting weirder and weirder lately. It's hailing today, and it might snow tomorrow. I'll have someone come over and light the fireplace later."

"Oh, madam, you always exaggerate. You're still a long way off," Schiller said, taking a sip of hot water.

Then he pulled out his schedule and asked Mrs. Miller, "Who was the first patient this morning? Does anyone need my ward?"

"I don't think so," Mrs. Miller said, shaking her head. She picked up a notebook from the side and looked at it, saying, "Mr. Oswald Mr. Cobblepot has a follow-up appointment this morning, which will last about two hours. After that, Anthony and Miss Scott from the third floor will also have follow-up appointments, both lasting about two hours. So I will come over at noon to collect the medical records and files..."

Mrs. Miller slammed her notebook shut and said, "This afternoon is private time. Your two friends have already made appointments. Is there anything I can help you with for this part?"

"No, Thank you. Oh, by the way, a friend of mine is coming over tonight, but he called my personal number..."

Mrs. Miller put the notebook back on the bookshelf on the table, and said with a hint of helplessness, "Doctor Schiller, you have to understand that, generally speaking, mental hospitals don't allow people to enter without an appointment, and appointments require calling the hospital a day in advance. If they're contacting you through your personal cell phone, then it needs to 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 in, he might go to the TV station and try to steal the cameras."

"Alright, we 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 able to take responsibility. Doctor Schiller, this is for your own good."

"Okay, Thank you."

Hot water was poured into the cup, making a soft "sizzling" sound, and wisps of white steam rose from the cup. Schiller took a sip of hot water, and as he put down the cup, he looked at Cobblepot's face through the steam opposite him.

He was much better than before, although his cheeks were still thin and his eyes were sunken, but you could tell that his hair had been styled, his complexion was much rosier, and his lips were no longer chapped.

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

"Leaving aside the terrible lighting and air quality there, hygiene alone is a major problem."

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

"She's fine."

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

Schiller noticed that Cobblepot looked hesitant. He placed the medical record in his hand on the table, then piled it up with the other documents on the table, aligning it with the edge of the table, and put it aside.

He put his arm on the table and said, "The regular follow-up appointment is over, but there are still 20 minutes left. The next part is free consultation time, so you can say whatever you want."

"Professor Freeze suggested I...go to high school." Cobblepot's hand was also on the table, flicking, but he interlaced his fingers and then clenched them tightly. He said, "That's ridiculous, isn't it? How could I possibly go to high school?"

"Why do you find it absurd? Why do you think it's impossible for you to go to high school?"

"I..." Cobblepot hesitated, seemingly unsure how to express his emotions, so Schiller spoke for him, "Because it's not very common in Gotham, right?"

"Almost everyone around you doesn't go to school. Forget high school, they probably didn't even finish elementary school before leaving school, and you're the same."

"Perhaps in your life plan, the path of studying step by step and then going to university has never been one..."

Cobblepot nodded, still looking very nervous, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He said, "This won't work. I can't go to school. I don't have the tuition, and my mother needs someone to take care of her."

"But now, these shouldn't be a problem. You're earning enough to live on, pay your tuition, and even pay for your mother's hospitalization. You could even hire a caregiver to stay with her around the clock."

"Yes, but I don't know what to choose..." Cobblepot hesitated. He wasn't trying to hide anything, but his expressive abilities prevented him from fully describing his current state of mind. So Schiller could only guide him by saying, "If you don't know what to choose, what are your options?"

"I could continue working, make a lot of money, open a restaurant, and then buy a luxury house for my mother to live in. That was my original plan..." Cobblepot said, biting his lip and speaking somewhat indistinctly.

"You seem somewhat ashamed when you describe your goal, why?"

"Because Professor Freeze described to me a completely different life, his experiences..."

What is that?

Cobblepot hesitated for a moment, as if he couldn't say anything, which was completely different from his eloquent state when describing his criminal plans.

He lacked an imagination of a good life, and even more so the language and vocabulary to describe such a life.

"He lived in a very good family. He had a large country house, a big yard, brothers and sisters, and a dog. He went to and from school by car, studied in classrooms from junior high to high school, and then got into a very good university with excellent grades..."

Cobblepot's vocabulary was empty; his descriptions of these aspects of life were nothing more than "good," "big," and "happy. "Schiller noticed this and asked, "What kind of house do you consider big?"

Cobblepot crossed his arms and said, "It's probably similar to the houses in the Affluent Area south of here."

"Is that how Professor Freeze described it to you? That he owns a house that's about the same size as the Affluent Area in the south?"

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

"Perhaps you're focusing on the wrong thing. The point he's making of what he's telling you isn't how nice his house is, how big his yard is, what kind of car he drives, or how good his school is."

"His intention wasn't to brag about how happy his childhood was, nor was it to tell you that if you go to high school, you can have that kind of life..."

"Your memory should be excellent, so have you noticed any difference between the way he described this kind of life to you and the way you are relaying his words to me now?"

Cobblepot paused for a moment, then said, "I don't have his rich vocabulary, nor his abundant emotions. I feel like my mind is completely blank..."

He started talking like a floodgate had been opened, but his tone trembled slightly at the end, as if he was eager to utter the last sound.

"When he described this kind of life to me, it was so captivating that I felt both envious and jealous. But now, if you ask me to describe it, I can't..."

"There are probably two reasons for this problem. One is that you have never experienced that kind of life, and all your fantasies about a good life are still just wishful thinking. This is a matter of experience, but more importantly..."

"Cobblepot, do you know why people study?" Schiller took a sip of water. Cobblepot replied, "To learn knowledge and then get a degree?"

"This is only part of the story."

Schiller put down his cup and said to Cobblepot in the simplest and most understandable way possible, "Your brain is like a sophisticated machine, but even the most sophisticated machine needs to be used regularly to prevent it from rusting."

"When your brain is always turning in one direction, it creates inertia. The gears and parts will change their structure according to the direction you turn. In this respect, your brain will turn faster and faster, more smoothly, and the parts and gears will mesh better, thus turning even faster."

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

"By now you should have noticed that when you think about conspiracies, crimes, relationships, and business intricacies, your mind works incredibly smoothly. This is normal because you were born and raised in Gotham, and these things are more useful than art, literature, or philosophy."

"But the learning process is actually a process of restoring balance to your brain."

"You can't memorize every book in the world about art, literature, and philosophy and apply it to your life; that's impossible."

"Just like even if you learn advanced mathematics theory, it won't be of much help in managing a water supply system. However, managing water pipes doesn't require any profound theories."

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

"Besides knowledge, what we learn from studying is also a way of thinking. When you face a problem, using more ways of thinking and a more comprehensive perspective can greatly improve your mental stability."

"When you have more perspectives on a matter, you can largely avoid getting stuck in a dead end or falling into extreme emotions."

Cobblepot saw a serene, all-encompassing power in Schiller's eyes, a power he felt more strongly than in Victor.

He understood the metaphor "the eyes are the windows to the Mind Stone" for the first time, because he saw an 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 aura, more like a violent storm on the sea, while Schiller was more like an endless Deep Sea, tranquil and peaceful, but unfathomable.

Cobblepot rubbed his clenched index fingers together and felt a cool breeze, but it wasn't because of the weather.

In his somewhat limited imagination, he was like a Penguin wobbling on the ice, with the Gotham night storm raging above him and the bottomless sea beneath his feet.

Now, he faces two paths: to be a bird that rises with the wind, or to plunge into the sea and become a fish that bravely forges ahead in the ocean of learning.

For the first time, his brain, which always turned in one direction, produced the grinding sounds of parts and gears, which sounded to him like thunder in the cold night.

Danco Cobblepot, however, felt no fear. After the fireplace in the room was lit, a faint warmth emanated from it.

If the rain in Gotham never stops and he has no umbrella to shelter him from the wind and rain, then let him jump into the ocean and swim forward in the currents and whirlpools until he finds a place to stay, freezes the water there into ice blocks, and builds himself a house.

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