Chapter 1031: The Shocking Commoner (Part 9)

"For this matter, we need to analyze it in two parts..." Shiler placed the two beer cans on either side of the table.

"The last era and this era, your personality and your mission." Shiler intended to finish the cold beer first, so he set the strong spirit aside, organized his thoughts, and said:

"You are a person from the last era, right?"

Steve, with his head lowered, nodded and then tilted his head back to gulp down two mouthfuls of alcohol. Shiler dipped his fingertips into the spilled alcohol, drew a pattern on the table, and said, "Then now, we need to determine: do you follow your personality more, or do you follow your mission more?"

Shiler's body language was clearly more animated; when expressing the two parts, his hands waved continuously in the air, but this actually made it easier for Steve to understand. He asked, "Are you asking whether I feel like I am Steve, or whether I feel like I am Captain America?"

Shiler also nodded. Steve looked ahead somewhat blankly, as if alcohol were interfering with his thoughts. After a while, he spoke: "For a very long time, people called me Captain America, and I also felt that I was Captain America, so at that time, I was Captain America."

"But after I woke up, I felt like I was Steve again. I don't know what's wrong with me; maybe I have a split personality."

"No, you don't. You have to listen to a professional psychologist..." Shiler repeated, "You don't have Dissociative Identity Disorder; this is very normal..."

"A part of human cognition of oneself comes from society's need for them." Shiler first proposed a theory. Fearing Steve wouldn't understand, he continued:

"Society needs Captain America more. The identity of Captain America can give you the feeling of being needed and can allow you to prove your own value, so you will feel that you are Captain America."

"At that time, America needed to recruit soldiers, and recruiting soldiers required a propaganda figure. You knew this was contributing to the country, so you were willing to be Captain America."

"But after you woke up, Captain America was already a dead man. No one would hold any expectations for him, no one needed you anymore. You couldn't be Captain America, so naturally, you could only be Steve."

Shiler gulped down two mouthfuls of beer, threw the empty can aside, took the bottle of strong spirit that Steve had opened earlier, and said with his head drooping, "Looking at it this way, you lean more towards Captain America, but this is perhaps also a product of social and environmental domestication."

"Let's not talk about the causes first, just look at the results: being Steve was just a forced choice because you couldn't be Captain America. In your heart, you still want to be Captain America."

"It's just that now, after all, it's a peaceful era. Occasionally, a few bad guys pop up, but their abilities don't match yours, so they are easy to deal with. It was hard enough to have Hydra for you to fight, but recently they haven't been causing trouble, so you don't feel needed."

"Without this kind of imminent sense of mission, you start to let your mind wander, thinking about philosophy and the meaning of life. This is the root of your anxiety; you hope to be needed."

Steve was silent for a while, but he nodded and said, "Am I like a war profiteer? A violent maniac who hopes for war every day..."

Shiler shook his head vigorously and said, "I already said, don't easily define yourself. You should listen to a professional psychologist..."

"The highest need of a human is to realize self-value; this is a normal emotion that everyone has. Look at Spider-Man: why did he change from a street hero to a scientific researcher? It's because he is more needed in the laboratory."

"Although the work in the laboratory is more tiring and miscellaneous, and scientific research is very boring with no fun to speak of, completely incomparable to swinging around over New York, he is willing to do it because he is needed."

"This emotion of hoping to be needed and hoping to reflect self-value often overrides reason. For example, you know clearly that this job is hard and doesn't pay well, but sometimes you continue to do it because the project wouldn't run without you."

"If you look at Captain America as a project, you are indeed the core of this project. Without Captain America, their propaganda plans would all become bubbles."

Shiler gulped down two more mouthfuls of alcohol, his speech becoming even more unclear, but his train of thought was still very clear. Or rather, the analysis of a psychologist had become his instinct; even when his brain was numbed by alcohol, he could still point out the problem with pinpoint accuracy.

"Your illness lies in falling from an environment where you were highly needed into an environment where you are completely unneeded. The gap in the degree of self-value realization makes you feel very sad."

Shiler took a deep breath, tried hard to open his eyes, and said, "Returning to what we said before, the problem of the two parts..."

"You are the Captain America of the last era and the Steve of this era. From your previous attitude, it can be seen that you still like the identity of Captain America from the last era, and feel lost regarding the identity of Steve in this era."

"You have always been very tense, wanting to restore the identity of Captain America from the last era, which is the perfect person of the Golden Age, knowing everything, with everything under control... You dream of having this state."

"But the reality is, partly because you are unwilling to adapt to this impetuous era, and partly because the era has indeed developed too fast, gradually slipping out of your control."

"I guess you feel anxious about Spider-Man's suit and are stimulated to the point of losing control, not only because the scene of his death left a shadow in your heart, but also because of the public's attitude towards the generations of Spider-Man."

"In your view, it is simply absurd and ridiculous to praise the sacrificed generation of Spider-Man while belittling the second and third generations. It is even more incredible that a hero who saves people is still spat upon by the whole nation."

"You know the truth of this matter, which is that the first generation of Spider-Man is actually the same person as the third generation, so you feel even more absurd about their completely different treatment."

"One is now blown to the heavens, and for a period of time, his reputation even far exceeded Iron Man and Captain America. The other is now at the forefront of public opinion, with everyone spitting on him, saying he is an ignorant rich kid..."

"But they are clearly both Peter Parker. You know this, which further proves the prejudice in your heart, which is that the people of this era are far inferior to the previous era, all a bunch of hypocritical and impetuous brats..."

"Such prejudice is constantly reinforced, giving you even more reason to avoid the lifestyle of this era. Anyway, they are all a bunch of rotten people; why should I learn their lifestyle? Why should I integrate into their society?"

"The more you look down on the people of this era, the more you want to prove that the spiritual banner of the last era is a perfect person, so you are more afraid of making mistakes, and more nervous and anxious..."

"So, what high opinion does the most professional psychologist have?" Steve hiccuped again and leaned back on the sofa, revealing the chest and neck he had been covering. Clearly, he was already a bit drunk.

However, contrary to Steve's expectations, Shiler didn't give a long speech but fell silent until Steve called him: "Shiler?... Shiler?"

Shiler seemed to wake up suddenly. After a while, he closed his eyes, shook his head, and said, "What do you think I can do? If I had a way, would I still be an American psychologist now?"

Hearing this, in his hazy state, Steve suddenly remembered Shiler's identity; he was also a relic of the former Soviet Union.

"Oh, right, I forgot, you're a Soviet." Steve tilted to one side, curled up on the edge of the sofa, and took two more gulps of alcohol, regardless of the spilled liquid soaking his shirt.

"Fine, the Soviet Union won this time." Steve covered his eyes and said, "After so long, we meet again; you are the doctor, and I am the patient."

"Wasn't it like this before?" Shiler leaned forward, staring at Steve, and said incoherently, "Only the Soviet Union can cure America's disease of hypocrisy, ostentation, and not doing practical work..."

Steve suddenly started laughing, and the alcohol he hadn't fully swallowed made him cough. He leaned forward again, nodding continuously, and said, "Right... right... it has always been like this, we... we are each other's doctor and patient..."

"Steve, listen..." Shiler stretched out a hand. Steve focused his eyes on his hand. Shiler shook a finger, just like those people who start bragging when they are drunk, and said:

"I deceived the military, threatened Congress, and even blew up a bunch of important people. They were all played by me..."

"I am a liar, a bad person, with no moral bottom line. If I want to do something, no one can stop me..."

"But... but..." Shiler took another sip of alcohol, as if trying to maintain his consciousness, and said, "Through my unscrupulous practice, I have learned... the last era cannot come back. Stop dreaming, Captain America. The Red Giant cannot come back, and the Golden Lighthouse cannot come back either..."

"So, am I considered lucky?" Steve coughed twice and then said, "The American spirit is gone, the Golden Age is gone, but at least, the country is still here..."

"That's how it is... that's how it is... you American, are you satisfied now?" Shiler slammed the bottle onto the table and said, "I can never go back to my country again, never... never... never..."

"She is still there, but she is not that 'she' anymore. They are different..." Shiler kept muttering incoherently. Steve felt sad for the deep sorrow in his tone and emotions, so he tremblingly reached out, pressed his hand on Shiler's shoulder, and said:

"You can stay here. This is also your home, because here you have your friends, and we are all your friends..." Steve covered his chest and retched, then wiped his mouth and said:

"Everything your country has paid, history will remember. Everything you have paid, your friends will remember..."

"These words should be sent to yourself." Shiler looked into Steve's eyes with a somewhat vacant gaze and said, "If you could comfort yourself like this, you wouldn't need me, a professional psychologist..."

"I've discovered that you really care about whether you're professional..." Steve started giggling. His low laughter echoed in the room, causing the air to vibrate continuously. He said while laughing, "You're already this drunk, and you still have to emphasize that you're a professional psychologist..."

"I'm not drunk." Shiler shook his head vigorously and muttered, "I can write a pathological analysis for you right now, with rigorous wording, beautiful sentences, and not even a single punctuation mark will be wrong..."

Steve laughed even harder. That anxiety and suppressed emotion, accompanied by the chaos and madness brought by alcohol, completely dissipated.

The two sat on either side of the table, like a doctor and patient separated by a table, like comrades and friends speaking freely and without scruples, and also like the previous era waving to each other across the Pacific Ocean.

Steve covered his face, laughing uncontrollably. After a while, he recovered and said, "Do you know? You and Howard are really alike."

"After he got drunk, he wrote me a 20,000-word research paper on the anti-gravity... something-or-other possibility of car wheel hub transmission systems on the spot, and then dragged me, insisting I listen to his entire report, and even blamed me for not asking him questions..."

"Then he is too unprofessional. Does he still think he's a college student?" Shiler also started laughing and said, "It's only ever been me picking on others' problems. In this world... there is no one... more professional... than me..."

The bottle in Shiler's hand loosened. He leaned against the side of the sofa, as if he had passed out from drunkenness.

Steve saw that he was completely drunk. He took a few deep breaths, letting his modified heart beat faster. After accelerating blood circulation, the alcohol would be metabolized faster.

Having recovered a bit of sanity, Steve helped Shiler up. At this moment, he was certain Shiler was truly drunk, because a drunk person is different from a normal sleeping person; when a drunk person is helped up, they are dead weight.

The next morning, when Shiler woke up from bed, he held his head, which felt like it was about to split, and said to the gray mist, "I told you not to filter the alcohol, but you didn't have to make the hangover feel this real, did you?"

The gray mist hummed aggrievedly. Just as it was about to explain, Shiler heard the phone by the bed ring. He endured the discomfort, picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?... What did you say? Stark's anxiety is acting up again? What happened to him?"

"Fought with Peter?? How could the two of them fight???... It seems the situation is complicated. Fine, I'll head over there immediately."

A firefighter, indeed. ===== CHAPTER 1032 =====