Chapter 12 Chapter 12 The Killing Mind

In Schwartz's methodical mind, the question was well thought out.Since he didn't want to die, he had to leave the farm; if he stayed on, the census would come soon, and death would knock at the door. Well, get off this farm.But where was he going? There's a—what is it, a hospital in Chicago?The people there took care of him.But why?Because he used to be a medical "case".However, isn't it now?And he can talk now, and he can tell them his symptoms, which he couldn't do before.He could even tell them about telepathy. Or, does everyone have telepathic contact?Is there any way he can judge? ...There were no people around, not Yabin, Luoya, or Gelu, he was absolutely sure.Unless they saw or heard him, there was no way of knowing where he was.Ha, if Gru also had this ability, he wouldn't have won a game of chess with Gru...

Wait a minute, chess is a popular game.If everyone has spiritual contact, then it is impossible to play chess at all, it is not a real game of chess. So that makes him special—a living specimen of psychology.The days of being a specimen may not be particularly happy, but at least it will allow him to live. If you consider another possibility that he just thought of, if he is not a patient with amnesia, but a person lost in time.Ah, then besides telepathy, he's a man from the past, that is, a historical specimen, an archaeological specimen, and they mustn't kill him. As long as they can believe in themselves.

Well, as long as they can believe in themselves. The doctor must have believed him.He remembered very well the day Yabin took him to Chicago that he wanted to shave first.Afterwards, his beard never grew back, so they must have done something to him.Which means the doctor knew he—he, Schwartz—had hair on his face.Isn't that significant?Gru and Yabin never had to shave, and Gru had even told him that only animals had hair on their faces. So he had to go to the doctor. what is his nameSchechter? ... Schector, yes. But he knows too little about this terrible world.Leaving at night, or traversing country lanes, would have left him in a fog, and he might have entered a radioactive danger zone of which he knew nothing.So, having no other choice, he mustered up his courage and ran out onto the highway in the afternoon.

They wouldn't want to look for him before dinner.But when the meal was ready, he had already gone far away.And none of them had the psychic contact to realize that he was gone. For the first half hour a wave of elation rose in him.For the first time since the accident happened, he felt this way.He is finally doing something meaningful and trying to fight back against the outside world.This time he had a clear goal, unlike the last time in Chicago, where he just ran away for no reason. Ah, not bad for an old man, he'll show them. He stopped suddenly—right in the middle of the road, because something caught his attention, something he had forgotten.

It was a strange contact, an unknown contact.He first felt this contact the day he tried to walk toward the shining horizon, but Yabin blocked him.On that day, it hid in the patriarch's estate and peeped out. Now it reappeared, watching him from behind. He listened carefully, or at least as far as heart-to-heart contact was concerned, he was doing the equivalent of ordinary listening.It didn't get closer, but it clung to him tightly.It contains vigilance and hostility without being reckless. Other things are already clear, the stalker must not lose himself, and he has a weapon. Schwartz was cautious, and almost naturally turned his head, looking carefully at the horizon.

There was an immediate change in that telepathic contact. It became suspicious and cautious, worried about its own safety, and the success or failure of the plan, whatever it was.The fact that the stalker was armed became more pronounced, as if he were thinking that he would have to use a weapon if he were trapped. Schwartz understood his situation. He was unarmed and alone.He also understood the fact that the stalker would rather kill him than let him escape; if he made one wrong step, the man would kill him...but he couldn't see anyone. So Schwartz continued to move forward, knowing very well that the stalker was very close to him and could kill him at any time.He was looking forward to a change without conception, and he couldn't help but stiffen his spine with tension.What does it feel like to die? ...what does it feel like to die? …This thought was in line with the frequency of his footsteps, vibrating in his mind, swaying in his subconscious until it almost exceeded the limit of his endurance.

His only way out is to cling to the stalker's mind contact.If there is a sudden increase in its tension, it means that the opponent is about to raise the weapon, about to press the trigger or switch, and he will know it immediately.At that moment, he will immediately fall down, he will immediately run away... But why?If it is for the 60th limit, why not execute yourself on the spot? The theory of time slippage faded from his mind, and he accepted the amnesia explanation again.He could be a criminal, a dangerous person, and therefore must be watched.Perhaps he was a high-ranking official who must face the law and cannot be killed in private.It is also possible that his amnesia was a function of his subconscious mind, preventing him from realizing that he had committed a heinous crime.

Now, he is walking on the empty road, heading towards a destination full of question marks, with Death at his side. It was getting darker and darker, and the oncoming wind was getting colder and colder.This doesn't seem quite right, as has been the case for the past two months.Schwartz judged that it was December, and the sunset at 4:30 proved it, but the chill of the cold wind was not as biting as Midwestern winter. Schwartz has long believed that the reason for the generally warm climate is that the planet (Earth?) is not completely dependent on the sun's heat.Radioactive soil itself generates heat, although the heat per square foot is very small, and the heat given off by millions of square miles is considerable.

Now in the dark, the stalker's spiritual contact is getting closer.He was still preoccupied, ready to take a gamble.Tracking is a difficult thing in the dark of night.The man had stalked him, followed him to the shining horizon.This time, wouldn't he dare to take any more risks? "Hey! Hey, man..." It was a nasal, high-pitched voice, and Schwartz stopped immediately. Slowly, stiffly, he turned away.A thin figure walked towards him and kept waving his hands, but during this time when there was no sunlight, he couldn't see the other person's face clearly.The figure gradually approached unhurriedly, while he waited in place motionless.

"Hi, hello, nice to meet you. It's not fun to be alone on the road, mind if I go with you?" "Hello." Schwartz said bluntly.It was this contact that he was the stalker.And his face was not unfamiliar, it belonged to that period of ignorance, he had seen it in Chicago. The stalker then assumes an attitude of utter familiarity: "Hey, I know you. Absolutely!...Don't you remember me?" If it were an ordinary situation, another time, Schwartz was not sure whether he would believe the other party was telling the truth.But now, he could clearly see that under the thin layer of acquaintance, there was a deep content of spiritual contact, which told him - shouted to him - that this thin man with piercing eyes, Know him from the beginning.Not only did he know him, but he also prepared a deadly weapon to kill him if necessary.

Schwartz shook his head. "Absolutely," the skinny man insisted, "in that department store, I saved you from the crowd." He pretended to laugh, bent over as if laughing: "They thought you had radiative fever , you remember." Schwartz did remember, but only vaguely, hazy.First there was a man like this, and a few minutes later, another group of people appeared, blocking the two of them first, and then making a way for them. "Yes," he said, "nice to meet you." It wasn't a great conversation, but Schwartz couldn't have done it better, and the little man didn't seem to care. "My name is Nat," he said, holding out a limp hand, "I didn't get a chance to say much to you that time—I ignored it because of the urgency, you can say— But of course I'm happy, to have a second chance ... let's hold hands." "I'm Schwartz." After speaking, he gently shook the other's palm. "Why are you walking here?" asked Nat. "Where are you going?" Schwartz shrugged. "Just walking around." "Hiking, huh? Me too. I'm hiking all year round—it's a good thing to do when you're free." "what?" "You know, it keeps you refreshed. You get the fresh air and feel your blood go faster, don't you? . . . It's been too far this time, and I hate going back alone at night, I always like to have company. where do you want to go?" This was the second time Nat asked this question, and the spiritual contact clearly showed the importance of this question.Schwartz didn't know how long he could prevaricate. In that person's heart, there was a desire to explore the facts.Lying was absolutely useless, and Schwartz didn't know much about this new world to lie about. So he said, "I'm going to the hospital." "Go to the hospital? What hospital?" "When I was in Chicago, I lived there." "You mean the Institute, don't you? That's where I took you back last time, I mean, the one at the department store." His mind showed anxiety and rising tension. "I'm going to see Dr. Schechter," Schwartz said. "Do you know him?" "I've heard of him, he's a big man. Are you sick?" "No, but I have to report to him once in a while." Does that sound reasonable? "Walking?" Nat said. "He's not sending a car to pick you up?" Obviously that didn't seem to make sense. Schwartz said nothing now—a sweaty silence. Nat, however, seemed in a good mood. "Listen, old friend, we'll be passing a public communication station soon. I'll call a taxi from the city and tell it to come here and pick us up." "Communication wave station?" "Yeah, there's one all along the road. Look, there's one right there." He had just taken a step away from Schwartz when the latter screamed, "Stop! Don't move." Nat stopped immediately, and when he turned around, there was a strange calmness in his expression: "What bit you, brother?" "Don't put on the show, I'm tired of watching it. I know who you are and what you're going to do. You're going to call someone and tell them I'm going to see Dr. Schechter. Then they'll be in town. You'll send a car to pick me up when I throw myself into a trap. If I try to escape, you'll kill me." Schwartz spoke with such rapidity that the new language seemed almost impossible to him. Not enough to use. Nat frowned, and murmured: "Your last sentence really hit the nail on the head..." It wasn't for Schwartz, and Schwartz didn't really hear it, but these words floated in his mind. The soul touches the most superficial level. However, he said aloud, "Sir, you're confusing me, I can't figure it out," but he was backing away, slowly moving his right hand towards his hip. Schwartz lost control and waved his arms wildly and excitedly: "Don't pester me, okay? How did I mess with you?...Go away! Go away!" At last he let out a hoarse scream, his brow wrinkled with hatred and fear of the approaching, hostile figure.His own emotions suddenly rose, and then he pushed hard towards that spiritual contact, trying to avoid its entanglement and keep a distance from it... Then it was gone, suddenly gone.For a moment, there had been a very brief, very intense awareness of pain—not from his own mind, but from the other's mind—and then there was nothing.That spiritual contact never appeared again, as if the clenched fist was gradually loosened, and finally let go. Nat slumped into a black blob on the darkening road.Schwartz approached him on tiptoe, and Nat was small and easily turned over.The painful expression on his face seemed to be deeply, deeply seared, and those lines were still on his face, showing no sign of relaxing.Schwartz tried to feel his heartbeat, but couldn't. He stood up, feeling a wave of overwhelming fear. He killed a man! Then, there was another burst of overwhelming surprise... Didn't touch him at all!I just hated this person, but I just attacked his heart, and I was able to kill him. What other powers does he possess? He made up his mind quickly, and began searching Nat's pockets, and found some money.Great!He needs it.Then he dragged the body out into the field, covering it with weeds half a man's height. He continued walking for two hours, and no other psychic contact disturbed him. That night he slept in an open field.The next morning, after another two hours of walking, he finally reached the outer edge of Chicago. In Schwartz's eyes, Chicago can only be regarded as a village. Compared with the Chicago he remembered, the activities of the crowd were sparse and sporadic.Even so, he was surprised and confused by the first time he encountered so many telepathic contacts. so many!Some float gently to and fro, others are sharp and intense.Some people passed him with a thud in their hearts; others had nothing in their skulls, and if they had something, it was probably just reminiscing about the breakfast they had just eaten. In the beginning, every time a contact passed, Schwartz would turn his head and startle, as if the people were actually saying hello to him.But within an hour he had learned to ignore them. Now he could hear many words, though they were not really spoken.It was a novel experience, and he couldn't help listening to it.Those are tiny, strange words, incoherent and intermittent, far away, very far away... And those words are full of living emotions and desires, as well as other indescribable subtle thoughts.Therefore, this is a vast world made up of boiling life, but only he can see it. He found that walking on the road, he could see through the buildings beside the road, and he could send his own heart into it, just like a puppy on a leash, it has a way to get into the gap invisible to the naked eye, and send the last thought of others into it. The inner "bones" come out. At this moment, he was standing in front of a huge stone-faced building, thinking about his next move.They (whoever they were) were after him, and although he had killed the stalker, there must be someone else, whom the stalker was trying to contact in the first place.Perhaps it would be best for him not to take any action these days, but what would be the best way to do it? ... looking for a job? ... He began to probe the building in front of him, and there was a faint telepathic contact in it, which he thought seemed to represent a job opportunity.They were looking for weavers, and he had been a tailor. He walked in, and when he stood still, no one gave him a second look, so he patted someone on the shoulder. "Excuse me, where do I go to apply for a job?" "Go in through that door!" The spiritual contact that reached his heart was full of boredom and doubt. He walked in, and there was a thin man with a pointed chin inside.As the man posed him a series of questions, he tapped on the sorter, recording the answers on punched cards. Schwartz replied stammeringly, whether he was lying or telling the truth, he also lacked confidence. However, at least at the beginning, the man in charge of personnel affairs definitely didn't pay much attention.His questions came one after another, quickly: "Age? ... fifty-two? Hmm. Health? ... Married? ... Experience? ... Ever worked as a weaver? ... Okay, What kind?...thermoplastic? elastic?...you think it's all there, what does that mean?...who was your previous employer?...spell his name...you're not from chica, are you ?...Where is your certificate?...If you want to be admitted, you have to bring your certificate...What is your registration number?..." Schwartz began to retreat again and again. When he came in, he had never foreseen such a result.The spiritual contact of the person in front of him gradually changed, his suspicion became more and more serious, and he became extremely cautious.The kindness and friendliness on the surface is so superficial, and the hostility underneath is faintly visible. This kind of insidious hypocrisy is the most dangerous. "I don't think," Schwartz said nervously, "I'm not right for the job." "No, no, come back." The man beckoned to him, "We have a job for you, let me go through the file a little bit." Although he kept smiling, his spiritual contact is now very obvious, even more so. unfriendly. He has pressed the buzzer on the desk... Schwartz was suddenly terrified and rushed to the door. "Get him!" the man yelled, jumping out from behind the desk. Schwartz attacked the telepathic contact, beating it viciously with his own mind, and immediately heard a groan behind him.He turned his head quickly, and saw the person in charge sitting on the floor, his face distorted and deformed, his hands tightly pressing his temples.Another employee leaned over to look at him, then rushed to Schwartz, and Schwartz ran away. He ran to the street and fully understood his situation. The relevant unit must have issued a warrant for his arrest and distributed his relevant information everywhere.At least the person in charge recognized him. He fled blindly and hurriedly down the street.The attention of passers-by was gradually drawn to him, and more and more people noticed him, because of the suspicious expressions on the street, around every corner—because he was running, because his clothes were wrinkled and ill-fitting... Between multiple psychic encounters, and in the chaos of his own fear and despair, he could not identify his true enemies—those who were not merely doubtful, but absolutely certain.Therefore, he never got the slightest warning from the nerve whip. All he felt was terrible pain, first as if struck by a real whip, and then as if he were pinned down by a rock.For a few seconds, he seemed to slide into the abyss of pain, and then gradually passed out.