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.
"Mr. Principal, are you okay?" Victor asked worriedly.
Schiller shook his head and said: "He does feel a little depressed, but he should get better soon."
"This is the benefit of having a master of psychology." Victor also laughed, then looked at Raven and said: "I've never heard that you have a brother. Is she your brother's daughter?"
"She is my distant niece." Schiller said: "She is so far away that we have no contact with her for at least three generations."
"She's going to the same high school as Dick and the others?"
"Yes, they have met 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 together? When are you going?"
"It was supposed to be today, but actually I can also..."
"Which restaurant? I'll take you there."
Raven mentioned the name of the restaurant, which was not far from Gotham University. Victor waved his hand to Schiller and said, "You go back and rest. I'll see her off on the way."
Schiller nodded to the raven and left. The raven sighed and followed Victor. Victor turned to look at her and said, "What's wrong? Have you been scolded by Schiller?"
"On the contrary, I did something bad, but he didn't blame me. I felt weird myself." Raven was obviously not in a good mood, looking a little depressed, and her originally bright red hair also became dull.
Victor squinted under the sun and opened the car door for her and said: "Maybe what seems like a big deal to you that makes the sky fall is nothing to us."
"I peeked into his refrigerator, causing 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 a letter."
"The sky is really going to fall." Although Victor said this, he was not very surprised or angry. He said as if he was joking: "It's hard to imagine how Schiller would clean up the house, but
Wish him luck."
Schiller drove back to the house. The police, police cars and cordons all disappeared without a trace. Roy must have punched him hard, and Clay must be in a state of distress now.
Opening the door to the yard and walking in, there are no big problems except for a few more footprints in the front yard. The real problem is inside the house.
There were many dirty footprints on the porch of the room, most of which were made by the police. Some of them were stained with blood. After all, the evidence department police who had dismantled the body had also been here before.
After opening the door, in addition to the previously arranged furnishings lying on the floor in a mess, the most important thing was that the refrigerator was broken and the kitchen was not clean and could not be used to cook food for the housewarming party.
Then open the back door, and the backyard is even more outrageous. There is a big pit in the center, at least half a meter deep. The parts of the barbecue grill and the previous table football assembly were blown apart, and many parts looked like they were burnt.
, hidden in the grass.
Fortunately, there was nothing going on on the second floor. Schiller, who had been busy all day and night, felt a little sleepy. Even if he couldn't stand the sanitary conditions downstairs, he still had no choice but to go back and take a nap.
Almost as soon as Schiller's head hit the pillow, he fell asleep. He had not slept so deeply for a long time.
In the dizzying dream, 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 who had always appeared in his memory.
A familiar stranger who had no contact with him.
The sweeper aunt would always pass by the door of his ward at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. She would mop the floor at the door while talking to the young Schiele.
Schiller couldn't understand her at that time, or he wasn't listening at all. He was immersed in his own world and completely withdrawn from reality, but the fat aunt didn't seem to care whether he understood or not.
Every time I talk about how old I am, whether I'm eating, and the doctor said I'm doing very well.
At around 6 p.m., a skinny old man will come over to collect garbage. He will park the cleaning truck at the door of the house, pick up the trash can at the door, throw the garbage bag and the garbage inside into the car, and put it on.
New garbage bags.
Schiller doesn't usually create garbage. The trash cans in his room are mostly miswritten sticky notes or snack packages thrown away by the doctors and nurses who come to take care of him.
The old man who collects garbage will comment on everything and say a few words about how life is better now. Snacks can be eaten as meals. He took a bite of his grandson's biscuits before and drank a few large glasses of water.
some type of.
When the lights go out at 9 o'clock in the evening, the security guard will patrol the floor for the last time. He will knock on the door gently, push the door open a crack, put his big head in, narrow his eyes that are not big, and use a coaxing tone.
Tell Schiller to turn off the lights and go to bed.
These people came every day, at fixed times, and gradually became part of Schiller's life routine, but he never had any contact with these people. They looked at him and spoke to him one-sidedly, and Schiller never responded.
But Schiller's far superior memory still allowed him to remember the movements, expressions and words of these people. For a long time, he did not understand what they were doing, but as his mental condition improved and he learned about common sense in life,
Study, he can probably understand that it is these people who maintain the normal operation of this institution.
But Schiller actually doesn't know what normal means. His ward has always been clean, the corridors have never been dusty, the trash in the trash can has never been left overnight, and he has never encountered any danger.
And when he grew up, he had many encounters with this kind of people, including the janitors at the university, the workers who drove garbage trucks, and the parking lot security guards everywhere.
Many times they would exchange a few words with Schiller, mostly praising him for his academic success, admiring his talent, and complimenting him on how great his achievements would be in the future, as if what Schiller had chosen now was so difficult, and how disappointing it would be to succeed.
The easy way.
It's as if they are completely incapable of choosing this path, so they choose to live like this, working as cleaners, garbage collectors and security guards.
It was not until Schiller became an adult that he realized that this was not the case. For him, working as a janitor, a garbage collector, or even a security guard was much more difficult than doing academic work.
It is actually very difficult to act as a small screw at the bottom of a huge organization. Because the level is too low, the size is too small, there is no power, no one listens to what you say, and no one believes it, the work is particularly difficult.
Even if Schiller is just a college student, if he has excellent grades and can bring benefits to his tutor, his boss will seriously consider his proposal. Even if he doesn't consider it, Schiller has a way to make him consider it.
But Schiller has encountered several times when a certain toilet door is broken, a certain faucet does not flow water, and the cleaners complain, but no one changes it.
If someone asks, these little screws can only say, "I'm just a sweeper. If the boss doesn't fix it, there's nothing I can do."
The word "no way" seemed like a horror movie to Schiller at that time. There had never been a time in his life when he had no choice. Even if he was temporarily incapable, he at least had a plan and would be able to achieve it sooner or later.
The fact is that he has a solution for everything, let alone repairing toilet doors and faucets. Due to some special reasons, he has no time to take the exam, or fails the exam, and there is only one day left for him to deal with it.
There is also a way.
But Dr. Anatoly has a different view on this. He believes that Schiller must try to accept that he has "no way" because only if he admits this can he see how people are connected from another perspective.
.
Later, Schiller gradually understood how these ordinary people who were always helpless survived in this society.
If a certain toilet door is broken, they will go to the office to borrow a piece of paper from the teacher and write a notice, or simply ask someone to help carry the broken door to block the door of the cubicle and turn it into a tool room.
The faucet was broken and they couldn't wash the mop, so they took turns fetching water from other bathrooms downstairs, forming a division of labor and cooperation model where one person mopped the floor and the other changed the water.
This is how they survive. It sounds very simple, but it is extremely difficult for Schiller.
If it were him, he would choose to knock his boss unconscious and throw him into a cubicle with a broken door, so that his boss could experience the serious consequences of a broken toilet door.
Putting aside legal and moral issues, this method is actually much more troublesome than ordinary people's methods. First, you must identify the target person, find the right time to strike, 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 cannot make up for the energy and time spent. It is more like Schiller has lost more energy and time for no reason.
The supplement is similar to "at least there is still fun to watch."
The essence is that Schiller cannot just walk to the nearest office, knock on the door, reach for 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, and then sat by the bed for a long time, until the sun set, and some dazzling golden light dissolved into the silent air of the room through the gently floating window screens.
There were too many things to do, Schiller thought. If he opened the door and walked out now, and walked down a few more stairs, he would see a pile of trouble that he couldn't deal with. If he chose to open the front and back doors again,
, then the trouble will be doubled.
And these troubles will bring more troubles, like dominoes falling one by one. If he can't tidy up the house immediately, tonight's housewarming party will not be held.
If the banquet cannot be held as scheduled, he will rewrite the invitation, inform everyone of the change of banquet time, and apologize to them.
If you want to deliver these letters smoothly, you need a postman, but now the postman has almost become fertilizer.
The post office has always been short of people, and it is difficult for the newly recruited employees to deliver so many letters at once. If all the letters are not delivered before the banquet, someone will think that the party will be held as scheduled and bring food and drinks. Schiller will have to
Reject them at the door and apologize to them.
Then when he sends invitations again, he may be rejected by these people because he failed to handle everything properly, leaving the other party with a wasted trip and full of disappointment.
Schiller slowly lay down, leaning on the pillow, and reached for the cigar in the bedside table, but the cigar he took out was not cut properly, and the cigar cutter didn't know where it went.
Schiller had no choice but to put the box back, get up and pour himself a glass of water. As soon as he finished pouring the water, he heard a movement at the door.