Chapter 264

The globe-headed Schiller extended his hand and snapped his fingers; a screen appeared above the heads of the few, and he said, "You can see what's outside through my consciousness space, like this..."

"This is Hugo Strange. What you're seeing now is his first day in Gotham..."

In the footage, Hugo Strange's face appeared; from the first-person perspective, a white lab coat sleeve emerged, followed by an arm shaking hands with Hugo.

"We're watching your first-person perspective right now, correct?" Victor asked.

"Exactly. At this moment, I'm exchanging pleasantries with him. Pay attention—I'm about to introduce a psychological theory..."

All of them felt intrigued and stared intently at the screen. In the first-person view, Hugo soon launched into a long-winded monologue, while Schiller continuously engaged him in discussion. After a while, Schiller's hand in the first-person view pulled a bottle of alcohol from his bag.

"Wait, isn't it strange to drink during an academic discussion?" Yin Wensi asked. "You're clearly talking about serious academic topics—why pull out a bottle of alcohol? Won't he find that odd?"

"Precisely because we're discussing serious academic topics, he won't notice these details. His entire focus is on refuting my theory. Watch his expression—here..."

Schiller somehow produced a pointer and pointed at the screen: "See? He glanced at my hand as I opened the bottle cap—but at the same time, I posed him another question, so his attention was diverted..."

"His curiosity about what I'm doing is far weaker than his desire to refute me and prove himself."

On the screen, the two first-person hands pulled out two wine glasses and poured wine for Hugo and himself. Schiller's voice came through: "I'm used to having a drink after work. What about you, Dr. Strange?"

Hugo seemed indifferent; he didn't look like a drunkard, but he didn't object to drinking either. When Schiller pushed the glass toward him, he lifted it and took a sip—perhaps just to spare Schiller's face.

As the debate grew more intense, Hugo began frequently raising his glass during pauses in thought. The globe-headed Schiller pointed at the screen: "He's using the glass as a pause, a transition—just like many people enjoy spinning pens, biting their fingers, or playing with erasers in class..."

Soon after, the camera showed Hugo growing drowsy. Victor asked: "Is he falling asleep?"

"Correct. Guess where the first scene will begin?"

"Like us—waking up in the original setting, completely unaware that we're dreaming," Cobblepot said in a low voice.

But Schiller shook his head: "That's a decent opening, but too ordinary. If a script's inciting incident is too dull, the subsequent development won't be exciting."

"Then where will you begin, Professor?"

Schiller snapped his fingers again. All objects in the room began receding—the floor withdrew section by section, the sofa vanished layer by layer, cabinets and tables folded away magically into the floor and ceiling.

Then, all manner of objects surged forth from the walls of the space, assembling into another scene. The group stood at its center. Yin Wensi looked around and said: "This looks like... a train car?"

"Correct. I believe a gradual opening is a better choice. You've probably seen it in some films—the protagonist boarding a train to an unfamiliar city, gazing out the window, imagining his future life. It's a bit literary, but I love it..."

As he spoke, Schiller walked to a door between carriages, opened it, and inside sat Hugo Strange.

"But I feel something's missing," Yin Wensi said, stroking his chin. "Oh—right. In drama, the protagonist needs motivation. Only with motivation can he be driven to act..."

"Of course, I've prepared for it. But I'll clarify—I haven't controlled his mind. Like you, he retains independent thought within this consciousness space."

"Now..." Schiller snapped his fingers. The narrow corridor of the train and the partitioned compartments unfolded like cardboard boxes into a flat plane, leaving only Hugo, his chair, and the table before him.

The group followed Schiller to stand before Hugo. Cobblepot asked: "Can he not see us?"

"Good question," Schiller said. "I was just about to explain this."

"Human consciousness and dreams are layered—at least in my case. Different layers cannot communicate or interfere with each other."

"We're on a different layer from him?"

"Correct. The space you're standing in now is my Mind Palace's 'Theater,' specifically the 68th, 69th, and 70th layers."

"What does that mean? What's the difference between layers?"

"Of course there is. Explaining it fully would be complex—this Mind Palace wasn't built in a day—but there are patterns. Simply put: the lower the layer, the more chaotic; the higher the layer, the more orderly."

"Hugo is currently on the 68th layer—the stage. You are on the 69th—the audience seats."

"And I—though I stand beside you now—am actually on the 70th layer of the theater: the control room, or the director's office."

"So I can control everything on stage—like this..." As Schiller spoke, he snapped his fingers again. A newspaper appeared on Hugo's table.

"A newspaper? What does it say?" Yin Wensi moved to look closer, but hesitated, not wanting to get too near Hugo. Schiller reminded him: "You can go right up to it. He can't see you."

"In my Mind Palace, each area has different rules. In the Theater, higher-layer consciousness can see lower-layer consciousness, but lower-layer cannot see higher-layer."

"So you can see him, but he cannot see you. In his field of vision, he's simply sitting on the train, approaching Gotham City."

"But he's already arrived—he's already talked and drunk with you..."

"Your stupid questions are endless," Jack glared at Yin Wensi. Schiller waved his hand: "Don't be like that, Jack. I like people who ask questions."

"Generally, people don't realize they're dreaming while dreaming—just like when you first arrived here. Everything felt off, everything felt strange, yet you never noticed."

"A small portion of people can become aware they're dreaming and exploit the principle 'believe it, and it becomes true' to accomplish in dreams what they cannot in reality. We call such dreams 'lucid dreams.'"

"But clearly, Hugo, just now entering the dream, cannot realize he's dreaming. To him, he's simply received his job offer, boarded the train to Gotham, and now sees a newspaper..."

"Then where's the motivation you mentioned earlier?"

Schiller waved his hand again. Another newspaper appeared in Hugo's hand. It looked old. Victor leaned in to look and said: "This is a report about you?"

"Correct. I'm subtly suggesting he noticed me before coming to Gotham, and had already investigated some information about me. This will spark his curiosity and accelerate his arrival at Arkham Hospital, while laying groundwork for future plot points..."

"And next..." Schiller snapped his fingers. The table vanished from before Hugo, the newspapers floated into the air and disappeared. Hugo stepped directly into the office of Arkham Asylum's chief physician.

"Why the sudden jump?" Victor asked. "Won't he find that strange?"

"Isn't that how dreams work? One fragment follows another—breakfast to class to nap to school dismissal. You don't sit through a full math lesson in a dream, do you?"

"What happens next? Will he start working?"

"No. His motivation isn't strong enough yet. I need to add fuel."

Immediately, Schiller waved his hand, and beside him appeared a figure identical to him—except his head was now a normal human head, not a globe.

"What's this? Your doppelgänger?"

"He's the next actor to appear..."

As Schiller spoke, the other version of himself entered Arkham's office and warmly shook Hugo's hands: "Thank heaven, you've finally arrived."

Then Schiller began exchanging pleasantries with Hugo. Victor commented: "You're acting exactly like a negligent, irresponsible doctor desperate to offload responsibility."

"Exactly what I want. If I give him the impression that I'm incompetent and eager to avoid duty, he'll think I'm a fraud—and that'll strengthen his motivation to expose and dismantle my theories."

"I really don't understand," Victor crossed his arms. "What's the ultimate goal of this performance? Are you just doing it for amusement?"

"Amusement is one part—after all, long nights, sleepless, self-directing a play isn't bad. But there's another purpose. You'll see as we proceed."

Then Schiller's character exited, and Brand's character entered. Before they could ask, Schiller explained: "This is merely a puppet I've manifested. Brand hasn't come here—he's focused on pathology and has no interest in this."

Then Hugo began his grand speech: "The Mind Palace doesn't exist." During this, Jack laughed heartily, eventually bursting into uproarious laughter. He wiped tears from his eyes: "It's like someone dreaming and saying, 'People don't dream!'—that's hilarious! Ha ha ha! It's replaced the joke about Schiller being an ordinary man in my mind..."

Since Schiller's head was a globe, others couldn't read his expression, but Victor teased: "Did I just see what I think I saw? Was that a glare from Texas?"

Then they saw Hugo walk out holding an egg-shaped device. Cobblepot frowned: "What's that?"

"It's probably something he manifested from his own thoughts—like the chicken wing head and ice gun you created earlier. He believes he made it, so it appears."

Then they watched as Hugo picked up a patient file, flipped through it, and walked to the phone to make a call.

Suddenly, a shrill ringing filled the space. Cobblepot looked down in confusion and saw a phone hovering before him, ringing incessantly.

"Your phone," Schiller smiled.

"What's going on? He's calling me from inside a dream—and it's actually reaching me?"

"I enabled him to reach you. Otherwise, watching passively would be pointless. I've always believed immersive theater has great potential—and actor-audience interaction is crucial."

"So what do I do now?"

Victor slapped Cobblepot's shoulder. "Answer the phone."

Cobblepot picked up the phone. He truly heard Hugo's voice. The two stood face-to-face in the office—Hugo holding the phone on the left side of the desk, Cobblepot on the right.

"Hello, is this Mr. Cobblepot? This is Arkham Asylum. Your records indicate you need a follow-up appointment. Are you available tomorrow afternoon?"

Cobblepot froze, but still agreed to the appointment. He turned to Schiller: "What now? Do I really go for the follow-up?"

"Didn't you see how I did it? Imagine a virtual persona, then manifest it—let him go down and participate in the performance."

Schiller explained to Cobblepot how to manifest another version of himself in the consciousness space. He emphasized: "The trick is to avoid giving it a higher-dimensional perspective—make it like a real Cobblepot who received a follow-up notice, doesn't understand why, and plans to go."

"You mean fabricating a false memory?" Cobblepot frowned.

"Exactly. Give him a plausible reason—say, in his memory, he doesn't know I've resigned, and thinks the follow-up is routine, harmless. That'll help him engage more fully in the performance..."

When the other Cobblepot was formed, the others murmured in amazement. When he entered the treatment room and lay on the chair, Hugo brought out the device. The audience-seat Cobblepot asked: "What's he doing?"

"He's probably trying to enter your consciousness."

"But isn't he already in the consciousness space?"

"Remember the rules? Believe it, and it becomes true. He thinks this is reality, and he's a psychiatrist—so he intends to enter your mind."

"And this... is my other purpose. The subject I've been focusing on recently..."

"What?"

"Dream within a dream."