Nothing could be more fitting than racking one's brains.
The scene was downright horrific. Whether it was the bursting skull or the gray matter swelling like a balloon, either one was sure to trigger intense empathy and make you feel phantom pain.
Yet at that moment, Fu Qian paid no attention to this minor side effect. Instead, he admired the pulsing folds of the brain, imagining the profound knowledge surging within.
Now that was what you called brain matter. The brain was displaying its vitality in an unconventional way.
As for why the Thinker was doing this, Fu Qian said he could sort of understand.
Manual overclocking, right? So often, an idea would be just one hair's breadth away from clicking into place, yet somehow it wouldn't come. He figured more than one person had thought of reaching in and giving their brain a squeeze to improve blood flow.
The movement here was far more complicated, but the underlying goal was the same.
To force a breakthrough beyond one's limits and recall an answer one should have remembered but had forgotten.
Thinking was hard physical labor. In that moment, it had received the most vivid possible demonstration—and so had a will of steel.
The Thinker's kneading was anything but gentle. To Fu Qian, it was no less forceful than pounding on someone's skull.
Yet compared with the rapidly tearing meninges, the thinking center beneath them displayed a resilience beyond that of carbon-based life.
No matter how it was deformed—stretched long or squeezed short, budding or blooming—not so much as a drop of blood appeared.
All in all, the results of the computation were something to look forward to.
As the one theoretically responsible for the scene before him, Fu Qian felt no guilt whatsoever.
As mentioned earlier, all the cells