Chapter 637: Is This Really a Professor at Gotham University? (Part 2)

At the hotel, the three planned to head straight to the beach and rent a boat to sail out and search for the isolated island.

As for why they didn't just fly there directly, first, Arthur knew someone was stranded on the island, but he didn't know its exact location—the fish couldn't convey such detailed information.

Second, when flying, the aircraft was too high above ground, surrounded by many nearby island clusters, making it hard to identify their target; and since Arthur wasn't touching seawater while airborne, he couldn't hear the ocean's messages, making his efficiency far lower than sailing on the surface.

So after landing in Haibincheng, the group prepared to set sail; Hal contacted an old friend and found a decent boat—but when he returned with the news, he brought another regretful update: he likely couldn't join the island rescue mission.

"The friend I found is my cousin—I hoped he wouldn't tell my parents I'd returned, but they found out anyway, and they want me to come home," Hal said, his expression complex—clearly, his departure from Haibincheng had stemmed from family reasons.

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"My parents think my job as a test pilot is too dangerous, so they forced me to switch careers…" Hal took a deep breath and said: "Or maybe it wasn't force—just overwhelming pressure. I had no other choice."

"Indeed, I've always been the rebellious one in my family. My cousins chose stable jobs right here in Haibincheng. When they heard I wanted to be a pilot, they assumed I'd be transferred to Washington—or even sent to war—and they refused outright."

In the hotel room, Hal lit a cigarette, smoking as he spoke: "My mother cried several times, and I argued with my father multiple times. Eventually, I gave in—I knew they loved me and didn't want me to risk my life…"

Arthur leaned back on the bed and said: "My father thought the same. He believed fishing was too dangerous and paid too little—even worse than driving a taxi in a big city. He nearly pushed me to become a farmer with his friend in Kansasizhou."

Arthur's nostalgic tone stirred Hal's reflections. "Because he was a lighthouse keeper, he'd seen too many fishing boats swallowed by the sea. He knew the ocean's fury—and didn't want me to become another victim."

"Will you stick to it?" Hal asked.

"I don't know. When Professor Shiler first suggested I go to college, I instinctively resisted—not because I disliked university, but… I didn't want to go to a big city. I felt the people there weren't good, and there were too many things I didn't understand." Arthur lowered his head and sighed: "I know some might call me cowardly, say I'll adjust, that everyone else made it through…"

"But it makes me unhappy. Even if I could only be a fisherman in Jianhai or inherit my father's role as lighthouse keeper, I want to stay in Broodhaven, living among my familiar friends and neighbors—not chasing some career dream in a metropolis."

Shiler looked at Arthur. His demeanor was actually similar to Clark's now—both came from small towns, radiating a simple, unpolished sincerity that sometimes bordered on foolishness.

But Clark was always full of passion and drive, striving to adapt to his life at Metropolis University, bursting with determination to overcome every obstacle. Arthur, perhaps because his lighthouse-keeper father, old Currie, was too gentle, lacked that same fire—he seemed more resigned, more accepting of circumstance.

"It's not a bad thing, Arthur. Not everyone can live in a metropolis, and not everyone can become an elite white-collar worker. Someone has to be a fisherman, someone has to be a lighthouse keeper."

"God gave you a unique gift—perhaps so you could take on these roles and help fishermen who might be swallowed by storms." Shiler recited the rhetoric of the elect, and it struck Arthur's heart. "I feel the same way. I believe my gift can help those fishermen…"

"The fish in the sea tell me about approaching weather, and where sailors are in distress—so I can go rescue them."

Arthur and Hal had no connection, yet their life circumstances were similar: both their parents feared risk and wanted them to choose safer, steadier careers. But Arthur's father, being gentle, never forced him; Hal's parents were forceful, pressing him hard to obey their wishes.

"I can't convince my parents, so now I'm afraid to face them…" Hal lowered his eyes. "I know my neighbors are probably gossiping—they have a son who never comes home. That's rare here."

"People in Haibincheng are deeply proud of this city. They think it's the best in the world, so hardly anyone moves away. And I… I might be the only oddball."

"No, Hal, you must go back," Shiler said, unusually firm. "I think this time, you'll get a different answer."

Hal looked up at Shiler, confused, but he trusted Shiler's expertise. After a moment of silence in his chair, he stood, patted his legs, and said: "Sorry I can't join this rescue. But I assume saving a life isn't beyond your ability."

"If you return, call my house. Pilot Hal is always on standby." Hal made a pilot's signature gesture, then left. Shiler watched his back and shook his head.

"Enough delay. Let's go now," Shiler stood up. "You said you could sense the island's direction from the sea. I hope you're not exaggerating—if you are, I won't be able to find that tiny island."

"It's not me guiding us—it's the fish schools," Arthur followed Shiler out the door. "If I remember right, all nearby fish schools know the news. They'll lead the way."

Leaving the hotel, taking a taxi to the dock, they saw a medium-sized fishing boat—nothing advanced, but much larger and newer than Arthur's own small vessel.

A middle-aged man warmly approached, shook Shiler's hand, and patted Arthur's shoulder. "I can tell you're a fisherman—probably an excellent one. Hal is my nephew. I picked you a fine little vessel—been in the water less than two months."

Arthur walked to the boat, looked up, and said: "Indeed, excellent. I've seen this boat in fishing magazines. Its speed and range are outstanding—and it has the biggest ice hold I love. Too bad it's too expensive. I could never afford it."

The man led them aboard. "Can't help it—new models always cost more. When the next version comes out, prices will drop. Go have fun. May you have a bountiful catch."

Shiler smiled and shook his hand. After Hal's uncle left, Shiler said: "Hal really does have good character—his uncle actually lent us such a fine boat."

Arthur nodded in deep agreement, running his hand along the rail. "This is truly a fine little vessel. You won't find one like this in Broodhaven."

Inside the cabin, Arthur praised endlessly. Some technical terms he used were foreign to Shiler, but it was clear Arthur was a boat enthusiast, especially knowledgeable about fishing vessels—even the paint on a tiny component, he could explain in detail. Shiler asked:

"Where did you learn all this?"

"In Broodhaven, fishing magazines are the most popular. Whether from the official Ocean Bureau, industry groups, or even Canadian publications—you can subscribe to them all in Broodhaven."

"I especially love the Canadian Department of Fisheries and Oceans' magazine. They tell the truth—especially weather and water quality info useful to fishermen. Unlike American magazines, which obsess over who caught the biggest fish or which contests are happening."

In the cockpit, Arthur felt like he'd come home. Though he'd never actually operated such a boat, he'd seen the cabin countless times in magazines—even without reading the manual, he already understood every button's function.

He began steering the boat away from the dock, turning to Shiler: "I just saw a fishing rod in the tool box in the rear compartment. You could try a few casts. Your luck might be better than in Broodhaven."

Shiler smiled. "How could it be worse than in Broodhaven? Back then, I caught not a single fish."

Half an hour later, Shiler realized he'd been too optimistic—he hadn't caught a single fish, and he'd broken the rod. His luck was far worse than in Broodhaven.

He realized he had no affinity with the sea: he didn't like fish, couldn't fish, and kept feeling seasick.

Before ever seeing the ocean, he'd fantasized about becoming a free-swimming fish, even developing a persona with a fish tail. But now, that persona was better off staying in the swimming pool of his Mind Palace—the ocean was not for him.

Two hours later, Shiler realized he'd been too optimistic again—he was genuinely seasick.

He walked into the cockpit, took a deep breath, and looked at Arthur: "Still no sign? Are you sure the fish guiding us aren't lost?"

Arthur frowned, staring at the fish finder. "The situation is unexpected. The fish only give rough info—they said the target is on the west coast, but now it seems… not the U. S. west coast…"

"Then where?"

"Possibly closer to Mexico. We're heading toward the equator—might be near the Panama Canal. I recall there are many islands there…"

"But I'm seasick," Shiler leaned against the doorframe. Arthur glanced back. "Normal. First-time sailors often feel nauseous after prolonged time at sea. Hold on a bit longer—you'll arrive soon."

After stepping out, Shiler asked the Gray Mist internally: "Why can't I adjust for seasickness?"

"It's not physiological," the Gray Mist replied, slightly aggrieved. "Your body is fine. The stomach reaction is psychological. Every time I relax your stomach, it spasms again within seconds."

"Psychological…" Shiler leaned on the railing, closed his eyes, and entered the Mind Palace. His consciousness had barely sunk when he jolted awake—his Super-Ego's voice echoed: "Not allowed in."

"Why not?"

"I'm on vacation."

"You're taking a vacation?"

"Why can't I? Do you get to take all the vacations?"

Shiler fell silent, then asked:

"How long will you be gone?"

"Thirty-six days."