Chapter 10 Title IX Role Questions

He: "I can only say that I sympathize with you, but I don't pity you, because I created you after all." Me: "How did you create me?" He: "You are just a character in my novel. The purpose of your appearance is to add some psychological reactions to me—the protagonist of this book, and then drive the whole thing, I mean, the whole story to develop." The man in front of me is a delusional man who thinks he is the protagonist of a book and also the author.The medical history has been more than 4 years, and he was locked up in the hospital 3 years ago.Medication didn't seem to be working for him, and the family—his wife—was about to give up.

Because of his manic behavior, I went in with just a tape recorder and no pen or paper—or anything with a sharp point.Sitting far enough away, he is at the other end of the table, and I am at the other end of the table, about two meters away.He was on the other side of the table, rubbing his hands under the table habitually. He: "I know this is beyond your comprehension, but it's true. Moreover, this dialogue between you and me will not appear in the novel. It's just passing by, for example: on a certain day, month, and day, I After meeting you in the mental hospital, I thought something after that, and it probably will be like this."

Me: "Do you think this is really the case? How do you prove that I am the character you created? Tell me?" He: "When you write a novel, you will clearly explain the family background and life experience of all the characters to the readers?" Me: "I haven't written it, I don't know." He smiled: "You definitely won't. Moreover, I explained that my current identity is: the protagonist of this novel, I am immersed in the whole story, my role is not the authorship, and I cannot be the authorship. It’s clear that readers are boring. I can know your life experience, but it’s not necessary to describe it in the novel. People know it. Readers don’t know it either, this is just a small part of the big plot..."

Me: "Do you know how many years you have been here?" He: "Three years, it's boring here." Me: "Then why don't you let the time go by faster and pass the time? Or write a superman to save you? Aliens are also possible." He laughed loudly: "You are so interesting! The passage of time in the novel follows the natural laws in the book. Three years is only a few lines or even shorter in front of readers, but the characters in the novel are all honest and honest. In fact, after three years, I fell in love, got married, had children, got promoted, quarreled, ate, drank, whoreed and gambled. How can I make the time of the novel jump? I am the protagonist, so I have to endure this bit of boredom. As for the superman you mentioned Starman or something, it's boring, it's not science fiction. There's something wrong with your logical thinking."

I found that this is indeed what he said. From his personal point of view, his worldview is indestructible. Me: "I see, what you mean is: this world exists for you, what happens when you die? Does this world still exist?" He: "Of course it exists, but readers can't see it. If I simply die, there are two possibilities: 1. The plot arrangement should kill me; 2. I am not the protagonist. And the first point, I will not die now , the novel is still being written. The second point, I don’t have to be sure, I definitely am, because I am the author.” Me: "How do you prove it?"

He: "I want to prove it at any time, but is it necessary? From my point of view, the proof itself is ridiculous. Unless I think it is necessary. If you have to prove it, yes, you can try to kill me now, you can't kill me Yeah, the doctor outside the door will stop you, you might stumble, you might have a heart attack on the way, or you just can't beat me and you almost get killed yourself... that's it." Me: "What kind of novel is this?" He: "The ones that describe some people's emotions are sometimes very plain, but very moving. Only plain things can make people feel invested and move people, right."

Me: "So, do you love your wife?" He: "Of course, that's what I wrote." Me: "Where's the child?" He was a little impatient: "This kind of question...is there still a need to ask?" Me: "No, what I mean is: your feelings for them are the setting and needs of the plot, not spontaneous, right?" He: "Why is your logic confused again? I am the protagonist, and they are the protagonist's family. Of course my feelings for them are sincere." Me: "Then why did you try to kill your child three years ago?" He: "I didn't kill it. I just made a show to send me here."

Me: "You mean you pretended to do that? To come here?" He: "I know no one will believe it, so whatever you want, but it has to be done. No reader likes to read a mediocre journal. There must be a climax." I decided to provoke him against the rules: "What if your wife cheated on you while you were in the hospital?" He: "The plot doesn't have this setting." Me: "You sure." He smiled: "You..." I lost no time: "You admit that I am a human? Not the character you set?" Him: "I made your character human, and you did what you did."

Me: "What do I do?" Him: "Let my mind fluctuate." I seem to have fallen into his trap. Me: "After I'm done, will I cease to exist?" He: "No, you continue your life, even when my novel is over, you will still continue to live, but the readers will not see it, because about you, I will not describe it to the readers." Me: "Then what is your final ending for this novel?" He: "Well, this is a question, I haven't figured it out yet..." Me: "When will it be finished?" He: "You won't know when it's finished, because it's something outside of this world, beyond your comprehension, how would you know it's finished?"

I:"……" He looked at me with interest: "It's good to chat with you, thank you, I'm almost up." He blinked after he finished speaking. That was the end of that conversation.After that, I went there two more times, and he stopped talking to me, and turned to small talk.But not long after that, I heard that he was getting better, and after more than half a year, he was discharged from the hospital for observation.On the day I was discharged from the hospital, I happened to have nothing to do. He talked and laughed happily with his attending doctor, family and friends, and ignored me.Before leaving, he casually walked up to me and said quickly in a low voice: "Do you still remember the table from the first time? Go and look at the back of the table." After speaking, he smiled slyly and ignored me.

It took me a lot of trouble to find the table where he and I met for the first time.I lay down and looked under the table. There were many nail scratches on it, and I could vaguely make out a few crooked words. That was the date when he and I first met, and a word: leave in half a year. Long afterward, I would see his last sly smile before my eyes.