Chapter 260: Hugo Wanders Through Wonderland (Part 1)

"I believe studying theories like the Hall of Thought—unprovable and unfalsifiable—is meaningless…" Hugo set down his book and looked across at Brand. "Dr. Brand, you feel the same, don't you?"

"If you mean the paper Schiller published earlier, I can only say, sorry—my research is in pathology. For psychological theories, you'd better discuss them with him directly."

But Hugo seemed not to notice Brand's refusal to engage; he continued on his own: "The Hall of Thought memory method—I'll call it a memory technique, a variant of spatial memory—refers to people constructing an architectural structure in their minds from memories, then categorizing and storing their memories inside…"

"Human memory can certainly be classified, organized, and summarized—but to claim one can build an actual building inside the brain, store memories there, and retrieve them at will like browsing a library, is exaggerated—or rather, merely a fantasy of supreme intelligence."

"The human brain is not a mechanical storage device. 'Forgetting' is one of its most essential components, a self-protective mechanism."

"If someone truly built a library inside their mind, it would mean they've disabled forgetting. If so, their brain's information capacity and real-time processing power would far exceed the physical limits of their body…"

"And no one can prove this exists—because even if you crack open their skull and pull out their brain, you still can't see whether such a structure truly exists in their conscious space."

Brand, still Ditou writing his medical notes, said: "But you can't disprove it either—you can't deny that some who claim this ability truly do have superior memory."

"I said I accept it as a memory technique—it might indeed organize scattered memories like filing documents, categorizing them neatly—but it certainly doesn't involve constructing a vast edifice to store infinite information, retrievable at will, as some papers boast."

"Even more absurdly, some papers claim living beings—or personified aspects of the self—can exist within the Memory Hall, even communicating with each other. Pure nonsense…"

Hugo's voice was calm, his speech orderly. He adjusted his glasses and looked at the book in his hands. "Yet it seems our Professor Rodriguez holds this in high regard."

"Then again, people are always fascinated by concepts like this—fantasy novel material. If you exaggerate them and describe them with engaging language, your book will sell well."

"But frankly, academically, this theory holds no ground. Perhaps an extreme genius could achieve it—but such individuals are vanishingly rare in the human population, statistically negligible, and thus worthless to study."

Hugo set the book down again, the thud echoing on the desk. He continued: "Perhaps our Professor Schiller is one of those one-in-a-billion geniuses. I wonder if he'll ever find a peer in his lifetime—someone to help him put this fairy tale into practice, provide evidence, and preserve his academic standing…"

"The Cycle of Paradise"

Brand heard the sarcasm in Hugo's tone but offered no rebuttal—only remained silent, continuing to write his notes.

His views being ignored—or even unacknowledged—did nothing to dampen Hugo's urge to speak. After all, at his previous university, he had no friends, no one willing to talk to him, and certainly no specialists in this field to converse with.

So he didn't mind Brand merely playing the silent listener. He went on: "Compared to such impractical theories, I find 'emotion'—more external, more observable—far more worthy of study."

"In fact, my current research is on the amplification of emotion. I've long believed human emotion has strong familial patterns. Once systematized and amplified through certain means, it could accomplish many things…"

"Telepathy, too, is based on this theory. Intense emotions generate brainwaves; when these waves intermingle, true telepathy might be possible."

"Perhaps even beyond that—perhaps one could enter another's mind and manipulate their thoughts…"

Hugo's tone grew increasingly excited; his confidence in this theory was clear.

This wasn't idle fantasy. Hugo's distinction from other psychologists lay in his expertise: he wasn't just a psychologist—he was also a physicist and biologist skilled in mechanics.

He didn't merely support his theory with papers or theoretical work—he had the hands-on ability to conduct biological dissections and mechanical design.

Eager to prove his theory, Hugo once carried out numerous cruel, unethical experiments—details unnecessary to recount—but some results were indeed achieved.

Yet just as his research reached a critical stage, these violations were discovered. He was fired from his former institution and came here.

In Gotham, Hugo's drive intensified. Here was a lawless land—and more importantly, Schiller Rodriguez, the most authoritative, prestigious, and renowned scholar in his field, was here too.

Hugo's research direction wasn't exactly opposite to Schiller's—it was simply unrelated, even conflicting in certain aspects.

Schiller's most outstanding recent paper remained his study of the Hall of Thought, in which he elaborated the concept and expanded it into numerous branches, effectively turning it into his own unique discipline.

No one before had ever developed this theory so fully and logically. Lately, many in the field had begun circulating the idea that this would be the future of psychology—but Hugo dismissed it entirely.

Schiller explored how humans could delve deeper into their own consciousness and control their own brains. Hugo, conversely, focused on linking brains together—how one person could explore and manipulate another's mind.

Hugo firmly believed his theory was the true direction of human evolution. More importantly, if he truly mastered this technology—able to manipulate minds at will—what couldn't he accomplish?

Driven by ambition from all these factors, Hugo's research enthusiasm was high—but his first problem was simple: he needed test subjects.

Now that he was a doctor at Arkham Psychiatric Hospital, who better than the patients?

Schiller hadn't handed over any duties when he left; there was nothing to hand over, since the hospital had virtually no true psychiatric patients.

Learning the patients here were mostly mob bosses, their family members, or lovers, Hugo didn't act rashly. He knew using them as test subjects risked repeating his past: exposure, then pursuit.

Hugo believed that, before perfecting his technique, caution was wise.

Yet he inherited Schiller's medical records, treatment reports, and schedules. Among these, Hugo discovered that though Arkham rarely had genuine psychiatric patients, Schiller's records did include a few unusual cases.

The first case Hugo examined was Cobblepot's—and the one he found most intriguing.

Adolescents have immature minds and fragile psychological defenses—ideal targets. From the records, Cobblepot suffered from catatonic schizophrenia, meaning he already had a mental disorder. If Hugo's experiments caused adverse effects, he could blame it on Cobblepot's preexisting condition.

Thus, Hugo called Cobblepot to schedule a follow-up. Cobblepot didn't yet know Schiller had resigned—he assumed it was merely a colleague calling on Schiller's behalf.

When he learned Hugo was his new doctor, he didn't think much of it, assuming Schiller was too busy and had asked a friend to cover.

His condition had improved greatly lately; routine checkups weren't worth overthinking. That was Cobblepot's thought—until he saw Hugo wheel out a strange machine from the prep room.

It was an egg-shaped device, its surface lined with circular indicator lights.

"What is this?" Cobblepot asked.

"A new type of therapeutic device," Hugo told him. "You've never seen one—it's the most advanced psychiatric equipment in the world. Not even the entire East Coast has a second one."

Cobblepot narrowed his eyes, but Hugo paid no mind. "Don't worry about it. You don't need to touch it physically, and I won't use it on you—just place it nearby. There's no need to feel tense…"

"Alright, first, let's run a simple hypnosis test…"

Cobblepot frowned tighter. "Dr. Schiller never did hypnosis tests on me…"

"I reviewed your file," Hugo said, picking up a medical chart from the side. "I mean no disrespect to Professor Rodriguez—I can tell he lacks experience in adolescent psychology. I, however, have studied it extensively."

"Relax. I'll stay far away, and the machine won't come near you. Just sit in the chair and imagine what I say. I swear it'll be quick—under ten minutes."

Hugo pressed a button on the odd machine. As its indicator lights began to flicker, Cobblepot slowly closed his eyes. Hugo, however, walked to the machine's side, pulled out several tubes connected to adhesive pads, and attached them one by one to his own head.

As the machine's hum grew louder, Cobblepot's frown deepened. An invisible force filled the room—their brainwaves amplified, gradually merging.

Consciousness plunged into darkness, then flashed into blinding white light—Hugo entered Cobblepot's mind.

He felt no surprise. He'd done this before. Now, his research had advanced further.

Before Hugo could act further, he let out a puzzled: "... uh???"