amaotonovel Chapter 4119 When the Pumpkin Ripens (1)
Chapter 4119 When the Pumpkin Ripens (1)
Chapter 4119 When the Pumpkins Ripen (Part 1)
Those who have never experienced autumn will never understand. If spring is a romantic journey, then autumn is a long, lingering illness, a time God leaves for people to be melancholic, sorrowful, and lonely. The soul descends with the whole world, becoming as dry as fallen leaves, gradually withering and crumbling, blown away by the cold wind like the flickering noise in an old film played on film.
Autumn in big cities is wetter and colder. Without the mud and red brick walls, condensation always forms on the glass of the revolving doors, reflecting the water stains on the asphalt road. Muddy leather shoes, knitted scarves piled around the neck, handwritten menus for the day, and the hum of the coffee grinder—autumn mornings on Green Avenue always begin with these things.
"Hello, two espressos, two lattes without sugar, one latte with double milk and double sugar, and one flat white. Just put them all together, thank you."
The coffee shop employee turned around and saw a young man wearing a black trench coat, with a neatly ironed light blue shirt underneath, and an employee badge around his neck.
"Oh, new here." He smiled as he picked out coffee beans. "Which office are you from?"
The other person seemed a little embarrassed and nervous. He said, "Uh, the least popular one."
"I didn't realize you were an employee of the Federal Shield." The coffee shop clerk's tone was light as he turned to the man and said, "I thought they only hired freaks."
“No, I’m not with Federal Shields, I’m with the FBI.” The other person seemed even more embarrassed. He said, “Behavioral Science Analysis Unit, BAU, you’ve heard of it, right?”
"FBI?" The other person was even more surprised. He said, "I heard you guys were going to set up an office here, but I didn't expect it to be on Green Avenue. What? To specifically analyze the weirdos across the street from you?"
“The Federal Shield isn’t across the street from us,” he said, shaking his head. “In fact, we’re at one end of the street, and they’re at the other, and our jobs are different…”
“Okay, don’t be so nervous, kid. Being a cop in Gotham isn’t easy, but it’s much easier than before. Which university did you graduate from?”
“Gotham University,” he replied. “Actually, I haven’t been out of school for very long. I wouldn’t be working so early if the FBI hadn’t just happened to be moving its Behavioral Science Analysis Division to Gotham. I was hoping to get a master’s degree.”
The coffee shop employee wiped his hands with a cloth and then said, "Don't think like that. Job opportunities are rare, especially such a respectable office position. You seem to be doing a good job, right?"
"Why do you say that?"
"In other places, you might be the most unwelcome person to serve tea and water or run errands, but in Gotham, being sent out to cross a street to buy coffee is a sign that they trust you a lot. After all, our whole city is a 'high-risk area'."
The young man laughed too. He rubbed his nose and said, "Yes, they told me to be careful before I left. It's only our first day here, and we don't want to cause any trouble."
"Don't worry too much. There are no gangs anymore, and you don't have to pay for anyone's coffee. Here, your coffee, that'll be nine dollars."
"Uh……"
"What's wrong? Is it too expensive? These are top-quality coffee beans. The place next door is cheaper, but they use old beans and their machines are so old they creak and groan. You have to trust my Italian heritage."
"No. To be honest, have you ever been to Los Angeles? I used to work there."
"I see, you think it's too cheap, right? I have a nephew who works in Los Angeles, and I heard that a cup of espresso costs three dollars there. I really don't know what kind of rich people they are. By the way, my bagels and sandwiches are pretty good too, would you like some? Or do you prefer donuts?"
"I'd like two pretzels and three ham sandwiches, no onions or black olives. Thank you."
The coffee shop clerk packed everything up, filling two large paper bags with the coffee shop's logo, and one bag contained a round croissant. As he handed the bag over, he noticed the clerk's name tag: "Barry Allen, Special Agent, FBI Behavioral Science Analysis Division."
Pushing open the revolving door and stepping back onto the street, a blast of cold air hit him. Barry exhaled a breath of warm air, only then realizing he hadn't asked the clerk for a receipt, meaning he couldn't get reimbursed.
But then I thought about it, and today is his first day here. As someone who used to study here and is practically a local, it's only right to treat him to coffee to show my friendliness. Besides, it only costs about ten dollars, which is well within his budget.
Walking across the street and around the intersection, I arrived at the entrance of a new building. This used to be the company of a once-popular clothing brand, and the original product display windows are still preserved, but now it has become one of the offices of the FBI.
Pushing open the door and walking in, Barry took the elevator to the 3rd floor, pushed open the door with the word "BAU" printed on it, put the things he bought on the large table in the middle, and took off his trench coat and hung it by the door.
“Oh my God! You must be a messenger sent by God to save my breakfast!” A blonde woman rushed in first. Behind her were a voluptuous Black woman, a white man wearing glasses, and a friendly-looking Asian man.
"Come on, my life doesn't need to look any more like a TV drama," Barry said with a hint of exasperation. "Don't exaggerate, it's just breakfast."
“A dramatic city needs a dramatic life.” They started digging through the paper bag like hyenas, snatching the food they needed. Barry walked to the other side of the mirror, checked his appearance, and then sat down at the table as well.
"Have the results of the analysis of the surveillance video footage from the previous child abduction case come out yet?" Barry asked casually, picking up his coffee cup.
“I’ve already handed it over to Brainiac. He’ll let us know as soon as there’s any news,” said the bespectacled white man. “You know what? We might be neighbors with the Federal Shield.”
"You mean that supernatural department?" the Black woman raised an eyebrow. "I heard it's full of people with superpowers, a bunch of freaks."
Barry coughed softly, but no one paid any attention. They just continued their discussion.
“I knew it wouldn’t be that simple to transfer us from the West Coast to here. The big boss definitely wants us to keep an eye on them.”
"I don't want to deal with superpowered people. Most of them are eccentric and dangerous."
“I don’t think it’s more dangerous than this city. I did some research the other day, and although the crime rate here isn’t high, the proportion of serious crimes is alarmingly high. There are countless cases that could be included in criminal psychology textbooks. It’s hard to imagine how high the mental fortitude of the police officers here must be.”
"Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration? I think it's a good place. The city environment is great, the rent is cheap, and the prices aren't high. More importantly, the climate here is better than on the West Coast."
"What? It's freezing here, and you actually think the climate is better than Los Angeles? California has the best climate in America!"
“I prefer distinct seasons. Maybe I’ll even see my first snowfall here. You know, I was born in Southern California and have never seen snow before…”
Barry listened to their discussion while sipping his coffee. Outside their office stood a huge American beech tree, its leaves completely yellow, some even turning red, swaying in the wind, making the whole tree look like a burning flame.
The fire in the fireplace finally blazed brightly. Schiller tossed in the last piece of wood, went to the door to check the calendar, and saw that Halloween was in three days. He then went to the kitchen, fetched a glass bowl, and placed it on the cabinet by the door. Next, he would go out and buy some candy, even though he didn't know if anyone would ask for any, he still needed to be prepared.
Just as he finished putting on his coat and was about to leave, the phone rang by the door. He answered, and the voice of Batman from the main universe came through:
"Hello, Doctor. I've arrived at Metropolitan Airport and am about to transfer to Gotham. I'd like to book a room at the Wayne Hotel, but it seems they don't accept online reservations. Could you help me find their phone number?"
“You’ve probably come to the wrong website,” Schiller said. “We don’t have Booking.com or E-commerce here. Your phone should have the Brainiac app pre-installed. Open that app and enter your needs.”
"Is it that green bald head app? I thought my phone was infected with a virus, so I used some technical means to uninstall it."
"...You actually managed to uninstall it? You really are Batman." Schiller exclaimed. "You need to download it back. Without it, you can't even get a taxi, let alone a hotel."
"Okay, I got it, I'll download it again, but why is this software called 'Brainiac'?"
"That's a bit complicated to explain. You should come over here first."
Schiller sighed after hanging up the phone. He knew Batman wasn't the type to wait for explanations; he'd figure everything out soon enough. But that didn't matter. He needed to hurry to the store for candy, or they'd all be sold out.
Schiller dressed and walked to the neighborhood store. The lake in front of his house was still the same, and the distant forest was already ablaze with autumn colors. A boardwalk led into the depths of the forest, where a small park had been built. Schiller would go there to sit during the day when there were few people around.
Gotham's ecology has indeed recovered considerably, with more waterbirds appearing on the lake. He heard from a neighbor that a herd of deer from the countryside had also appeared in the forest, though Schiller hadn't seen them. His gaze lingered on a squirrel in a large tree by the roadside; the creature had its cheeks stuffed full, its large tail swishing back and forth, watching them warily.
After walking a short distance, Schiller realized where its food came from. The neighbor had a chestnut tree that not only survived but was also laden with fruit, the fallen fruit covering the ground – practically a buffet for the small animals. Besides squirrels, there were also chipmunks and sparrows, their chirping echoing from afar.
Further along, there's a newly built pet park. Calling it a park is a bit of a stretch of grass; it's basically just fenced-off land, but it's still deserted and hardly anyone's around.
What Schiller liked most about his new home was how sparsely populated it was, like living in a nature reserve. On weekdays, you wouldn't see a soul for miles around, and it was incredibly quiet.
As for why this happened, it can be considered a consequence of Brainiac's policies. Originally, housing was allocated based on per capita living space, which meant Schiller even had to bring Shazam Jr. to live with him for a period of time. This approach did have its advantages, namely, the rich couldn't occupy too much land, while the per capita living space for the poor was greatly increased.
However, problems arise over time, such as the lack of supporting facilities. The affluent area has a good natural environment and spacious houses, which is indeed a good place to live at first. However, in order to maintain the environment, there are no supporting facilities at all. If you want to buy anything, you have to drive into the city. It is even further away from work in the city, even if there is no traffic, it still takes more than an hour to drive.
As the city's wealthy moved to the Otherworld, more houses in better locations within the city became available, so naturally, people didn't want to live far away. After negotiating with Brainiac, they moved to a more central location.
Schiller's neighborhood is neither in the city center nor the suburbs, but rather stuck in the middle. The recent commercial area has just been demolished, there are no plans for a subway line, and the gas station has moved away. Some of the wealthier neighbors have moved to the Otherworld, but not many people are willing to move here, so the population is dwindling.
Schiller, however, was quite satisfied with the situation. Perhaps after everyone else moved away, he could have a nature reserve all to himself.