Chapter 268

After the apple had danced countless dances, Hugo finally couldn't take it anymore—this was an utterly incomprehensible mental space!

With the God's-eye view and Schiller's explanations, the structure wasn't complicated—in short, this place was simply Schiller's mind made manifest.

For example, the "Inverted Tower" represented Schiller's process of perspective-switching; "self-control" represented his choices when facing temptation; the unnameable block theater represented his way of entertaining himself; the Boredom Square… well, it just represented boredom.

These thoughts and emotions are universal—if transposed onto an ordinary person, similar manifestations might occur: the process of learning knowledge made visible as a library, self-reflection as a meditation chamber, and so on.

But that's only from a high-dimensional God's-eye view. If a transmigrator were suddenly thrown into these rooms, he'd be utterly bewildered, unable to fathom what was happening.

Hugo possessed ample professional knowledge and knew this must be Schiller's mind made manifest, yet he had no idea what any of it represented.

From his perspective, he'd first been teleported into a hospital filled with mad doctors, subjected to various tortures, then jolted awake in terror.

After waking, he found himself in an office, where a voice inexplicably instructed him to detonate a bomb, then he was terrified awake again.

Then he discovered he'd been kidnapped by a block figure with green hair and a C-shaped hand—this time, before he could be frightened awake, the power was cut.

Then he was transported into a void, watching an apple perform over six hundred dances.

If this story were written into a literary work, many readers would comment that such a stream-of-consciousness structure was still too premature for carbon-based lifeforms.

If the first scene could be understood as Schiller's obsessions with work and his communication issues with patients, the second scene could barely be seen as frustrations at work and daydreams during downtime, the third scene could barely be explained as childhood fantasies…

But Hugo simply couldn't imagine what an apple dancing over six hundred dances could possibly represent.

What did it represent?

What else could it represent?!

What the hell, what the actual hell, could it possibly the hell represent???

Hugo gave up—or rather, he was utterly hopeless.

But that was normal. Anyone who watched a hand-and-footed apple perform every ballet and opera piece known to classical music would feel similar emotions—not necessarily stirred to the soul, but certainly enlightened.

Yet before despair took hold, he still had one last thing he could do. Hugo hadn't forgotten: he still had a machine button capable of triggering emotions and forcing the deepest fears to surface.

Finally, Hugo still remembered his line: "Let me see what you fear most."

The instant he pressed the button, the entire world fell silent. All the audience members turned to look around them—and realized nothing had happened.

"Did your experiment fail? It seems the pathway to the subconscious hasn't opened."

"No… perhaps it has opened—just…" Schiller stood again and led everyone to the theater entrance. He opened the door—outside was a sky of clouds.

A powerful wind rushed in, but Victor glanced sideways and saw the door had become the shape of an airplane window, with a clearly visible wing outside.

"You're afraid of flying?"

Schiller shook his head. Then everyone saw the clouds thinning, the plane descending, the city below growing larger, the plane sinking lower until it landed smoothly.

"And then?" Yin Wensi asked, baffled.

"I'm not afraid of flying—I'm afraid of this plane landing smoothly."

"What if one day I feel turbulence, wake from a dream, and find myself seated on a plane—realizing it was all just a dream during flight…"

Schiller shook his head and said: "That would be terrifying."

None of the others understood him—except Jack, who said: "What a strange and wonderful dream. But now you have to stand up from your seat, grab your luggage, greet the crew, and step off the plane. Where will you go next? I don't know—but it'll be something ordinary and boring…"

"Someone who fears ordinary life but pretends to be ordinary…" Jack clicked his tongue. "Well, that's kind of funny…"

"But not nearly as funny as someone who fears bats but pretends to be a bat. Hahahahahaha!"

At that moment, a rabbit hole appeared before them. Schiller said to Jack: "Stop laughing. Get to work. Don't forget our deal."

"You don't expect me to jump into that rabbit hole, do you?" Jack looked at Schiller. They stared at each other—then Schiller snapped his fingers.

Instantly, Jack's clothes transformed into a blue-and-white Lolita dress. The Joker looked down at himself, then kept glaring at Schiller. Schiller glared back: "Isn't this outfit perfect for a rabbit hole? Which version of Alice in Wonderland are you reading?"

Yin Wensi covered his eyes, finding Jack's outfit painfully offensive. "Whoever's insane here—if you don't get him out of that outfit soon, I'm going insane!"

"Why isn't the rabbit jumping into the rabbit hole?" Cobble asked. Victor answered: "That's exactly what I've been telling you about the importance of reading. I have a gold-leaf edition of Alice in Wonderland—I'll give it to you later."

Jack and Schiller remained locked in a stare. Finally, Schiller said: "I'll tell you a joke. Then you jump in. Deal?"

"What joke?"

"The rabbit jumped into the rabbit hole. Then Alice jumped in. The bat jumped into the bat cave. Then who jumped into the bat cave?"

"Hahahahahaha! It's Jack! Jack jumped into the bat cave! It's me! Of course it's me!!! Hahahahahahahahaha!!!"

Jack burst into wild laughter, then sprinted toward the rabbit hole and dove in headfirst like a diver.

"I still don't get what you're all crazy about. Is that rabbit hole the gateway to your subconscious?"

"Yes…" Schiller said, watching Jack vanish into the hole.

"Then why did you make him jump in?"

"Where is this place?" Schiller asked, then answered himself: "This is my mental space—but fundamentally, everything here is equivalent to a dream."

"If I compare the surface of my dream to ground level, then the 330 floors above are buildings on the surface, and everything below is the basement."

"Not only are there many layers above ground, there are many below. Some dungeon-runner isn't just good at climbing up—he's also excellent at digging down."

"Why dig down?"

"What do you think sits at the very top of my mental palace?"

Hmm… if this theory holds, the top should be the real world, right? Climb to the summit, and you control the body in reality?"

"Correct. Then what do you think lies at the very bottom of the basement?"

Victor squinted. The other two also pondered. Cobble asked: "Is there even a bottom?"

"Of course. If you dig deep enough, you'll reach it eventually."

"So Jack is digging your basement for you?"

"He's not just digging it—he has to dump shit down there after he hits bottom."

The mental space faded. The dream dissolved. As their consciousness returned to their bodies, Victor shook his head, drowsy. He turned and saw Schiller sitting behind a desk, holding a globe that still spun as it rested on the surface.

The First Evolution

The scene felt familiar. Victor glanced around carefully but found nothing unusual. Schiller noticed his look and said: "One side effect of lucid dreaming is doubting you're awake after waking. But I can assure you—this is truly the real world."

Yin Wensi and Cobble rose from the sofa, stretching stiff limbs. Only Jack, still lying on the single sofa, slept on.

"Was what you told us in the dream true? Did Jack really dig down into your subconscious? What will he find? What did you mean by…?" Victor paused, unable to utter the vulgar word.

"When you want to make a fish surface, besides using bait, there's another method…"

"What's that?"

"Dump shit in its home."

Cobble's face lit up with sudden understanding—he recalled past incidents. Then his expression shifted to disgust and a touch of pity.

The other two remained confused but didn't press further.

After they left, night fell again. Schiller sat on the sofa as usual, reading and listening to music.

Soon, drowsiness crept over him. He pulled out a pre-prepared stimulant and drank it—but the sleepiness deepened until his eyelids refused to stay open.

A voice whispered in the void: Sleep… sleep… sleep now…

Schiller's reply: No sleep. Not sleeping.

Sleep… sleep now…

No. Not tired. Won't sleep…

"You're tired! Sleep!"

"I'm not tired at all! I can stay awake another twenty hours!"

"But I can't hold on anymore!!!" the voice screamed.

Instantly, Schiller's vision went black. When consciousness returned, a pale, gaunt man in a long robe stood before him, eyes blazing with fury.

Schiller wasn't surprised. He rose from the sofa and asked: "Are you Morpheus, the Dream Lord?"

"Yes, I'm Morpheus. You—"

Schiller cut him off, arms open: "Morpheus, I'm here to negotiate terms."

————EXTRA NOTES————

Tonight in Gotham, there was a super—awesome—party. All the coolest people were there. We did tons of super cool things. But guess who we didn't invite??

That's right! YOU! BATMAN!