"Stay calm, Clark," Shiller said, standing not far from Clark. "Your na is Clark Kent, and you're in a bar in Gotham right now. You're safe, and we are all your friends."
"Friends... No... No... Traitors..."
"What are you talking about?" Diana frowned, gazing intently at Clark as if ready to use restraints at any mont.
Shiller took a step forward to position himself in front of Diana and walked towards Clark, but Hal gestured fiercely for him not to get closer. After all, Clark was out of control, and no one here could hold him back. It could be dangerous for Shiller.
But Shiller still moved closer, slowly repeating to Clark who he was, where he was, and that he was safe, until Clark's breathing slowed and Shiller approached to pat his back.
Clark sat on the bar stool, his upper body leaning over the bar, with sweat dripping down from his hair and brows.
"Are you okay, Clark?" Hal asked with great concern. "Did you drink too much? Or are you allergic to sothing in the drink?"
"Is there a problem with your powers?" Diana obviously wanted to suggest so more practical possibilities.
Clark opened his mouth, intending to retort, but how could his Mind Reading Technique malfunctioning not be considered a problem? So, he stayed silent.
Shiller signaled with his eyes for Diana to stop talking. He said, "Maybe letting alcohol flow through your bloodstream is not a good habit; it might lead to poor judgnt."
There it was again, Hal thought. Shiller seed to interpret the situation as Clark having drunk too much, but he also took into account Diana's hypothesis. Together, it translated to Clark permitting alcohol to get the better of him, which led to a misjudgnt of his abilities and his sudden loss of control.
Hal could feel that Shiller wasn't lying, and Clark's expression corroborated that Shiller's account was the truth. But why did it sound like it was about sothing else altogether?
The incident passed quickly, and Clark recovered soon after, but it served as a reminder to everyone. Allowing such a powerful being to beco disoriented was extrely dangerous, and Clark was assuring them he would never drink again.
Once everyone had left, Clark turned to find Shiller, who was left behind to clean up the bar's debris. Standing amidst the ss, he couldn't help but ask, "What was that?"
"A normal phenonon."
"No, that's not it, Doctor. I an what I felt..."
"It's a normal phenonon," Shiller repeated.
Clark watched Shiller intently, as if he hoped to discern sothing from his expression. Unfortunately, Shiller continued quietly cleaning the bar, until Clark couldn't stand it anymore and the pieces floated up, all flying into the nearby trash can. With no more ss to clean, Shiller had no choice but to stand still and look at him.
"Doctor, please," Clark said, appearing sowhat helpless. "I must know what Oliver is enduring, and why he has these emotions. They almost broke and will shatter him, too."
"It won't," Shiller simply replied.
Pain crossing his face, Clark was consoled by Shiller, who walked up and patted his back, saying, "Oliver knows exactly what he is doing. From the mont he chose this path, there was no room for weakness or retreat."
"I don't understand. He's suffered enough already. Where is this coming from? Why won't you tell so I can deal with them?"
"Because they're difficult for you to deal with. Not everything in this world is about right or wrong," Shiller said with a shrug.
Clark kept his gaze fixed on Shiller as if he wouldn't stop piercing him with that look until he got an answer.
"I cannot explain everything to you in my current role," Shiller shook his head. "You wouldn't accept it. If you want to hear, you'll need to be prepared."
Clark nodded slowly and carefully.
"I once worked for the Federal Bureau of Investigation."
Clark's eyes widened in shock. He stared at Shiller, saying, "You're not... I an, you were gathering intelligence, right?"
Shiller shook his head. "It's not about this cosmos. It was during my previous life."
Clark rembered Shiller saying he ca to this cosmos because of death – aning it was sothing that happened before he died.
Clark let out a sigh of relief.
His curiosity then piqued. This was a huge secret, and he knew everyone was more or less snooping into Shiller's past life without attaining a complete answer.
And now he had a new piece of the puzzle. He wanted to know what started it all, what the consequences were, and why it was being discussed.
"An accident," Shiller said. "Then I began to collaborate with them, so I understand them."
"The Federal Bureau of Investigation?"
Shiller shook his head. "All of them, generally speaking, they encompass all of Arica's law enforcent and intelligence agencies."
"Does Oliver's situation have anything to do with them?"
"It has always been related to them."
Clark really had enough, Shiller's way of speaking used to be like needle pricks, but now it was like scraping therapy, circuitous and ultimately veering into seemingly aningless drivel, yet this very drivel seed like part of the truth, hinting at so important secret buried within.
Clark now began to miss the Professor dearly, swearing to himself that he would never again think ill of Professor Shearer's venomous tongue, realizing that sotis a bit of venom was beneficial. Shiller's conservative phrasing made Clark believe he was witnessing an Arican President's first speech after taking office.
"So who did it?" Clark decided to cut to the chase.
"They all did."
"What did they do?"
"What they've always been doing."
"Doctor!"
"I'm here, don't worry too much."
For the first ti, Clark experienced what it felt like to be short of oxygen.
Shiller moved over to a sofa, sat down, and gestured for Clark to co sit beside him. Reluctantly, Clark sat next to him, and Shiller turned to say, "You see, I'm a psychologist, and my entire duty is to keep my patients in good spirits, so I will tell you not to worry too much."
"This is the thing I can do within my professional scope that least risks making a mistake. Doing just this much is enough. It's fair to both our rapport and the fees the patients pay , so I've always been a good doctor."
"But I think you're impressed with that Professor because you always rember so of his sharp comnts. Although they're too blunt, they always point directly to the truth, providing you with inspiration and guidance. Do you think he is a good professor?"
"Of course, he certainly is."
"Does everyone think so?"
Clark fell silent.
He couldn't in good conscience claim Shiller was universally praised as a good professor. In fact, anyone who had deeply interacted with him had complex opinions, even on the aspects of teaching ability and professional ethics, and it wasn't all positive—in fact, it was mixed at best.
Even Shiller's good friend Victor often said that Shiller exploited his own talent to trap others, expecting them to have the sa kind of genius inspiration, and beyond that, his theoretical teaching was hardly comndable. If anything had to be said, his style of teaching was better suited for gifted students.
People believed that Shiller truly hadn't done anything fundantally wrong to his students, but so of his thods intended for their benefit were overly aggressive, which seriously affected the evaluation of his professional ethics.
So, all in all, Shiller's evaluation in this aspect was mixed. It didn't affect him much, but it was certainly not as unanimously positive as it was in the other cosmos.
Greed was universally praised for his professional competence and dical ethics in Marvel. So said he made too much noise in treating his patients, sowhat frightening; others said he hid his plans, always causing a startle.
But no one ever questioned his treatnt thods. He might have lacked certain ethics, but his dical ethics were impeccable.
"Do you know why that is?" Shiller asked.
Clark shook his head. Sighing, Shiller said, "Arrogance is arrogance because, no matter the circumstances, it adheres strictly to its own pride, inflexible."
"If it wants to speak the truth—it speaks exactly that, the most naked truth, with no euphemisms or polish, going straight to the point, hitting the nail on the head."
"I'm different. I don't have so many convictions. I could speak or not speak; if I choose to, I could break it down, crush it, and hide it in as many soothing words as the sea, and it doesn't matter if you don't understand, because I've spoken, and if you don't understand, it's due to your lack of insight."
"And if you don't get better because you don't understand, I don't care, because I have many other ways to cure you, and you will inevitably be cured, regardless of whether you understand the truth or grasp what I'm really saying or doing; the path you're on is predetermined."
"Every ti arrogance lays its pride down, it hurts, and it does so because sothing is worth that pain, but if I have nothing to stick to, I'm invulnerable, and nothing is worth the effort."
"That's the difference between us, Clark. When you're heartless enough, you won't feel pain. As long as you have attachnts, you will always feel despair."
Clark found himself gradually understanding, despite the conversation being vague and disjointed, he strangely found himself adopting Oliver's perspective.
It wasn't that he wanted to co back, but that he had to. Even so, his heart remained on that piece of land, tethered, in pain and despair.
Had Oliver pointed out so truth? Did he put aside his pride for it? But even if he did, did he still fail?
Was the pain and despair Clark had felt while empathizing with him born of others' disbelief in the harsh truths he pointed out? What had they done?
Clark forced himself not to think about it; he didn't dare to, because when he connected this to Shiller's previously vague ntion of "they all did," he feared it might be a well-prepared trap.
Clark knew he wasn't just worried; his super-brain clicked into action for an instant, he knew it had to be true, but emotionally, he was still unwilling to believe it.
Because if it really was all of them and indeed a long-prepared sche, and Oliver had already appeared here, burdened with endless pain and despair, then it ant there were few chances left for things to change.
Clark stood up abruptly, dashing out the door. He halted for a mont as he crossed the bar's threshold, then slowed his pace, turning back to Shiller and saying.
"Doctor, I don't know why you can so certainly say 'nothing is worth it,' but I sincerely hope you may one day see the shallowness of this mont. We all have such a day."
"Mine wasn't too long ago, so I know that even if history can't justly assess whether our actions are worthy, regardless of right or wrong, ti will prove that if soone cares, if soone rembers—then it all matters."
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