Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

After talking with Shiller, Strange realized one thing - Shiller's childhood was probably equivalent to a supernatural thriller book.

Mysterious research facilities, armed guards, endless experiments and conspiracies...

The only problem is, Shiller isn't the victim of the supernatural thriller, he's the rule. The victims are those researchers and guards.

What's more terrifying is that his rule isn't clear-cut. Due to his unstable mental state, he might be one way today and another way tomorrow; one second he's fine, the next he's having an episode.

Although this research organization is very evil and mysterious, they are obviously the kind of organization that pursues worldly benefits. This means that most of their hired workers are ordinary people, just those who can accept doing harm to children and have a fairly low moral bottom line.

Human morals and mental states don't have a direct relationship. A low moral bottom line doesn't mean they are madmen, nor can they understand madmen, let alone understand Shiller who is even more difficult to deal with than his current state - the so-called proplusmax version of morbid Shiller.

Those who have worked in scientific research should know that sometimes experiments don't always succeed just because you are skilled and meticulous in your approach - luck plays a part too. Even the most brilliant scientists can't guarantee that they will get the exact same results from doing the exact same experiments in a short period of time.

If even inanimate materials with stable properties are like this, then Shiller, a living person, goes without saying. His mental state is primarily random, and the scientists' research on him is like drawing lots.

Moreover, within the pool of all possible mental states, harmless states are in the minority; most are harmful, and very harmful at that, to the extent that one careless moment could mean sacrificing yourself for science.

And this pool doesn't have a guaranteed return; you may draw ten thousand times and still not pull anything useful. Even if you do occasionally pull something useful, you can't nurture it as there's always the possibility of reverting to square one - not just before the nurturing started, but all the way back to before the drawing began. Draw the wrong card, redraw!

Strange could completely imagine the breakdown of these scientists. It comes down to a matter of confidence.

In some science fiction novels, physicists research for a long time only to find out physics doesn't exist, and then they commit suicide.

In the research facility that kidnapped Shiller, the scientists studied Shiller for a long time only to conclude that psychology, psychiatry, pathology, anthropology, sociology, and biology all ceased to exist. And they didn't even have the chance to commit suicide; they were killed by Shiller.

Strange sighed, paid a half-second's silent tribute in his mind, then asked again, "Then how did you become somewhat more normal?"

"Although I know I should answer with 'because of love' or something, the truth is I met a scientist who just refused to give up," Shiller said with a laugh. "You have to be more paranoid than a paranoid maniac, and crazier than a madman to have a chance of healing him."

Strange understood. Sure enough, there's nothing touching about any of Shiller's stories; they're all about madness intertwining, paranoia mingling, tormenting each other.

Through Shiller's experiences, Strange wondered out loud, "Do you think it's because this child was tormented insane, that he became the rule of the world we are in now?"

Shiller knew he was referring to the words on the parchment, but still asked, "What do you mean? The way the whole game is played?"

"Pretty much. I'm just wondering, why is it this way?" Strange stood up from his chair. He walked to the operating table, sat down on it, and then lay down flat on the table saying,

"Human beings are naturally afraid of pain and desire freedom. Furthermore, those people may have abused him. He can't be without resentment, but why take revenge by trapping doctors here to work?"

An epiphany struck Shiller, and he said, "What's the most common complaint you hear among doctors in hospitals?"

Strange sat up sharply and looked at Shiller, then said, "Too much work, difficult patients, too many checkups, too many reports."

The two looked at each other and understood what the other was thinking.

"So, this is his way of getting back at us?" Strange said somewhat helplessly, "Because he heard doctors complain about too much work, he traps us here to work every day; because he heard complaints about difficult patients, he keeps sending those difficult patients over."

"Because he heard doctors complain about too strict inspections on appearance and attire, we must maintain our appearance; because someone complained about having to write too many reports, he stipulates that reports must be finished daily."

"I can only say this revenge is much scarier than anything in a horror movie," Shiller said. "I haven't even written yesterday's report yet, I have to get up and do it quickly."

With that, he walked over to the desk, dipped his pen in ink, and started writing on the parchment, saying as he wrote, "However, his imagination is rather limited. Or perhaps doctors in the Middle Ages really weren't that busy. If he knew you could perform 20 surgeries a day, he'd definitely send two hundred patients over."

"I know you're not familiar with surgery, but I didn't realize you were this ignorant," Strange lying on the bed said, "The Hand of God is very busy. I'm not responsible for labor-intensive tasks like cranial surgery; that's what other doctors do."

"I only handle the most critical parts and then they move on to the next one; I don't just do 20 surgeries, my record is 48 surgeries in one day. Otherwise, where would the 80-some reports come from that need to be made up?"

Shiller gave him a thumbs up, then said, "It's not easy to find so many patients."

"I'm not just performing surgery on American patients. Difficult cases from all over the world get sent to me," Strange scoffed disdainfully before continuing, "You think those few urgent cases you found could cause me trouble? That's just a normal day's workload."

Shiller clicked his tongue in acknowledgment. He did indeed have a great deal of respect for Strange. After all, even if he didn't handle the less critical parts, the essential ones were energy-sapping enough. Focusing intently for twenty hours—how could The Ancient One not have taken a liking to him?

You only saw Doctor Strange using the dumbest method to stall Dormammu, but you never considered the immense workload that involved. One has to say The Ancient One had a sharp eye.

"I don't think I've ever been in your operating room," Shiller said after recalling for a moment, "which means your patients there aren't that tough to handle. You've been quite lucky."

Strange almost laughed out of irritation. He retorted, "I'm a neurosurgeon. Do you think people missing a third of their brain can still jump up and complain about me?"

"That's hard to say," Shiller shook his head, "Besides, I'm not only cheering for the patients, I cheer for the doctors, too."

"Last time, a patient came in holding their own leg, scaring an intern to death. It took me a lot of effort to calm him down. Are there no interns scared out of their wits in your department?"

"I don't need those who are so faint-hearted... wait a second. How did he hold his own leg and walk in?"

"That guy was a Mutant. He can fly."

"Then how did he lose a leg?"

"That's the real question. He was hit by a sky train," Shiller said, spreading his hands, "Not just the intern nurse, the lead surgeon almost fainted when he saw his insurance policy. I had to console him for half an hour."

The two chatted idly while waiting for dawn. As the morning light seeped through the tiny gaps in the windows, Strange awoke on the operating table after dozing off. Shiller, who had fallen asleep on the desk after finishing his report, also woke up.

"I think there's another advantage for us playing this game," Shiller stretched and yawned, "We can sleep anywhere. That's a fundamental skill for a doctor."

Strange woke up evidently quicker than him and as he turned his head, he noticed that the metal door behind them had been fixed. So he said, "It seems the game has taken care of this problem, and we have work to do again."

"Hope we get some good stuff today... I mean, good patients." In between, Shiller walked over to the shelves and began rummaging, organizing the loot from yesterday into a box, ready to sell to the Bear Caregiver.

After the morning bells rang, the nurse came for the routine check-up. He seemed to already know about the repair of the metal corridor door and sternly told Shiller, "You better behave and get to work quickly. If this happens again, I'll come to sort you out myself."

"Don't worry, ma'am, this is yesterday's report, I forgot to give it to you." Shiller handed over the report, and the nurse quickly left.

Shiller watched her leave, pondering the nurse's character based on their theory from yesterday. Although she seemed very fierce now, it was clear that she was monitoring the doctors. Fierce to the doctors perhaps, but not necessarily to the patients.

Every doctor understands that head nurses act tough not because they actually enjoy it, but because they must intimidate the medical staff and relatives to be responsible for the patients.

Shiller had to admit he had a natural affinity for nurses. The nurse who took care of him wasn't known for being friendly either, and she and Anatoli clashed like fire and water. Their limited knowledge of Chinese and Russian was all picked up during fights with each other.

After a while, the Bear Caregiver came again, and he was flabbergasted as he saw the box Shiller brought out, thinking he was hallucinating.

"God! What have you done?!" The Bear Caregiver's voice trembled a bit.

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"Don't make a fuss, just take it quickly, don't let the nurses find out," Shiller said, "Also, if you don't have what I want, can you help me buy it?"

"Uh, I can't usually go out either, but if it's really important, you could try asking Wood. He knows many people, maybe he can..."

Watching Shiller's deadly gaze, the Bear Caregiver's voice grew fainter, "Okay, I know you don't like that wooden man, nobody here does. But you still have to respect him. He's the boss's watchman."

Shiller's eyes shifted, and he said, "What about that Raven? If I give him some money, will he help me buy something?"

"You're subscribed to his newspapers? Okay. You guys like that stuff. But let me remind you, he's not simple either. Some say he's from the town government, even knows big officials from Westchester. Don't offend him."

Shiller gave a dry chuckle but said no more.

Seeing his expression was off-putting, the Bear Caregiver said, "You haven't already..."

Shiller looked downward. Following his gaze, the Bear Caregiver saw that the box on the floor, to his shock, contained a bunch of shiny Raven feathers.