amaotonovel Chapter 2559: Xiao Xiao Down (43)
Chapter 2559: Xiao Xiao Down (43)
Chapter 2559: Xiao Xiao Down (Forty-three)
After leaving the ward, Schiller called Raven, and the two prepared to drive home together, but when they went downstairs, they found Victor waiting at the door.
"Is the principal okay?" Victor asked with some concern.
Schiller shook his head and said, "He does feel a little depressed, but he should be better soon."
"That's 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's my distant niece," Schiller said. "She's so distant that we haven't been in touch for at least three generations."
"She's going to the same high school as Dick and the others?"
"Yes, they knew each other before and they have a pretty good relationship. Oh, by the way." Schiller turned to look at Raven and said, "Aren't you going to have a dinner party? When are you going?"
"It was supposed to be today, but I can..."
"Which restaurant? I'll take you there."
Raven mentioned the name of a restaurant not far from Gotham University. Victor waved at Schiller and said, "You go back and rest. I'll drop 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? Did Schiller scold you?"
"On the contrary, I did something bad, but he didn't blame me. I feel weird about it." Raven was obviously not in a good mood. He looked a little depressed, and his originally bright red hair became a little dull.
Victor squinted his eyes in the sunlight, opened the car door for her and said, "Maybe it's a big deal to you that the sky is about to fall, but it's nothing to us."
"I peeked into his refrigerator and caused a small explosion. Now his house is a mess. I guess the housewarming party can't go on as scheduled. He should be rushing back to write letters."
"That's really the sky is falling." Although Victor said this, he didn't show much surprise or anger. He said as if it was a joke: "It's hard to imagine how Schiller will clean up the house. I hope he will be successful."
Schiller drove back to the house. The police, police cars and cordons had all disappeared. It must be that Roy had dealt a heavy blow, and Clay must be in a state of panic now.
I opened the yard door and walked in. There was nothing wrong with the front yard except for a few more footprints. The real problem was inside the house.
There were many dirty footprints on the doorway of the room, most of which were made by the police. Some of them were covered in blood. After all, the police from the physical evidence department who were supposed to be helping with the corpse had also been there before.
After pushing open the door, not only were the previously arranged furnishings scattered on the floor in a mess, but most importantly, the refrigerator was broken and the kitchen was very unclean, so it was impossible to use it to cook food for the housewarming party.
When I pushed open the back door, the backyard was even more outrageous. There was a big pit in the middle, at least half a meter deep. The barbecue grill and the previous table football assembly parts were blown apart. Many parts looked like they were burnt and hidden in the grass.
Fortunately, there was nothing to do on the second floor. Schiller, who had been busy for a day and a night, felt a little sleepy. Even though he could not stand the hygiene conditions downstairs, he had to go back and take a nap.
Almost the moment Schiller's head touched the pillow, he fell into a deep sleep, the most profound sleep he had ever had in a long time.
In the dizzying dream, Schiller saw some fragments of his childhood again, but this time the protagonists of the story were no longer him or the doctors and nurses he often came into contact with, but those familiar strangers who had always appeared in his memory but had no connection with him.
The cleaning lady would always pass by his ward door at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. She would mop the floor while talking to young Schiller.
At that time, Schiller didn't understand what she said, or he wasn't listening at all. He was immersed in his own world, completely detached from reality, but the fat aunt didn't seem to care whether he could understand or not. Every time she asked him how old he was, whether he had eaten, and whether the doctor said he was doing well.
Around 6 o'clock in the afternoon, a skinny old man would come to collect the garbage. He would park the cleaning truck at the door, pick up the trash can at the door, throw the trash bag and the garbage inside into the truck, and replace the trash bag with a new one.
Schiller usually doesn't create garbage. The trash can in his room is basically filled with erroneous sticky notes or snack packaging thrown away by the doctors and nurses who come to take care of him.
The old man who collects garbage would comment on everything and sigh that life is better now and snacks can be eaten as meals. He had taken a bite of his grandson's biscuits and drank several large glasses of water because they were so sweet.
When the lights go out at 9 o'clock in the evening, the security guard will make one last patrol of the floors. He will knock on the door gently, push it open a crack, and stick his big head in. He will squint his already small eyes, and tell Schiller in a tone of coaxing a child that it is time to turn off the lights and go to bed.
These people came every day, at a fixed time and place, and gradually became a part of Schiller's life routine, but he never had any connection with these people. They looked at him and talked to him unilaterally, and Schiller never responded.
But Schiller's memory far beyond that of an ordinary person allowed him to remember the actions, 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 common sense, he roughly understood that it was these people who maintained the normal operation of this organization.
But Schiller actually didn't know what normal was. His ward was always clean, there was never any dust in the corridor, the garbage in the trash can would not stay overnight, and he had never encountered any danger.
When he grew up, he had many interactions with this type of people, including the cleaners in the university, the garbage truck drivers, and the parking lot security guards that could be seen everywhere.
Many times they would exchange a few words with Schiller, mostly praising him for his academic achievements, envying his extraordinary talents, and complimenting him on his future achievements, as if the path Schiller had chosen now was very difficult and how difficult it would be to achieve success.
It’s as if they themselves are completely incapable of choosing this path, so they choose the life they have now, working as cleaners, garbage collectors and security guards.
It was not until Schiller became an adult and independent that he realized that things were not as they seemed. For him, being a cleaner, a garbage disposal worker, or even a security guard on patrol were much more difficult than doing academic work.
It is actually very difficult to play the role of a small screw at the bottom of a huge organization. Precisely because the level is too low, the size is too small, and you have no power, no one will listen or believe what you say, so the work becomes particularly difficult.
Even though Schiller was just a college student, when he had excellent grades and could bring benefits to his tutor, his superiors would seriously consider his proposal. Even if he did not consider it, Schiller had a way to make him consider it.
But Schiller encountered several times where a toilet door was broken or a faucet was not working. The cleaners were complaining, but no one fixed it.
If someone asks, these tiny screws can only say, "I'm just a sweeper. There's nothing I can do if they don't let me clean it."
The word "no way" sounded like a horror movie to Schiller at that time. There had never been a time in his life when he felt no way out. Even if he did not have the ability temporarily, he at least had a plan that would be achieved sooner or later.
The fact is, he has a way to deal with everything, not to mention fixing a toilet door and a faucet. If you don't have time to take an exam for some special reason, or if you fail the exam and only have one day left to deal with it, he also has a way.
But Dr. Anatoly has a different opinion. He believes that Schiller must try to accept that he "has no choice", because only when he admits this can he see how people are connected from another perspective.
Later, Schiller gradually understood how these ordinary people who were always at a loss managed to survive in this society.
If a 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 lift the broken door to block the entrance 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 to fetch water from other bathrooms downstairs, and it became a division of labor and cooperation model with one person mopping the floor and one person changing the water.
This is how they survived. It sounds very simple, but it was 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 firsthand the serious consequences of a broken toilet door.
Putting aside the legal and moral issues, this method is actually much more complicated than the methods used by ordinary people. First, you have to identify the target person, find the right time to act, avoid surveillance cameras, and create an alibi.
It is indeed fun to listen to an inactive boss cursing in a toilet cubicle, but this fun cannot make up for the energy and time consumed. It is more like Schiller making up for himself after losing more energy and time for no reason, similar to "at least there is still something fun to watch."
The essence of it is that Schiller couldn't just walk up to the nearest office, knock on the door, reach out to take the paper on the table and say "Borrow some paper" to the office teacher sitting there.
After waking up, Schiller sat on the edge of the bed and tidied his hair, then sat there for a long time until the sun set. The dazzling golden light penetrated the gently floating curtains and dissolved into the silent air in the room.
There was too much to do, Schiller thought. If he pushed open the door and walked out now, and then went down a few stairs, he would see a pile of troubles that he had no way to deal with. If he chose to open the front and back doors, the trouble would be doubled.
And these troubles will bring more troubles, like dominoes falling one by one. If he can't clean up the house immediately, the housewarming party tonight cannot be held.
If the party cannot be held as scheduled, he will have to rewrite the invitations, tell everyone the time of the party has been changed and apologize to them.
In order to deliver these letters smoothly, we need postmen, but today's postmen have almost become fertilizers.
The post office was always short of staff, and it was difficult for the newly added employees to deliver so many letters at once. If all the letters were not delivered before the banquet, some people would think that the party was held as scheduled and come with food and drinks. Schiller would have to refuse them at the door and apologize to them.
Then when he sends invitations again, he might be rejected by these people because he failed to handle everything properly, making them make a wasted trip and full of disappointment.
Schiller lay down slowly, leaning against the pillow, and reached into the bedside table for a cigar, but the cigar he took out was not cut properly, and he didn't know where the cigar cutter had gone.
Schiller had no choice but to put the box back and got up to pour himself a glass of water. As soon as he finished pouring the water, he heard a noise at the door.