Just out of bed, Schiller felt a deep exhaustion. Despite his efforts, he had failed to secure any compensation, leaving him feeling extrely displeased.
When Schiller was in a bad mood, he tried to make others feel the sa. As long as they were unhappy, it brought him considerable joy.
Due to the reset of Space, his contract with Death was also nullified. However, he had recently acquired a new mobile phone, the Obelisk. Thus, Schiller decided to give Death a few calls to reminisce about their pleasant past cooperation.
But as soon as he picked up the Obelisk he had obtained earlier, Schiller discovered that the power belonging to Death had vanished. No matter how he tried to activate it, the mobile phone no longer responded.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Schiller placed the Obelisk on his bedside table and stared at it, deep in thought.
Red Skull had once said that the Obelisk possessed the power to interpret Death itself. Indeed, Schiller found this to be true upon acquiring it.
Based on the plot of the Arican TV show "S.H.I.E.L.D." and the fact that Coulson could use the Kree-manufactured GH dicine for Resurrection, it seed likely that the Obelisk, similar to the Egyptian Pantheon's balance, was a Kree tool for communicating with Death.
Therefore, it should have served as a telephone to contact Death, just like balance. Previously, Schiller hadn’t used the Obelisk to call Death, so he hadn’t confird whether this mobile phone was functional. But at that ti, the Obelisk indeed bore the aura of Death, of that there was no doubt.
Now, however, this aura had completely disappeared. Schiller was unaware of what Eternity had done or that Death's rule-breaking actions had been warned, causing all resurrection tools to lose their original effects.
He assud that Death, aware of his new mobile phone, worried he would be harassed again, so she had smashed the telephone in advance.
After all, Death had a history of such actions. Schiller vividly rembered the scene of the balance being shattered. Only this ti, Death had acted preemptively, smashing the phone before Schiller could make his harassing call.
This reasoning seed logical. After all, if the five great Gods were so easy to deal with, they would have been overthrown years ago.
Since he couldn’t make Death uncomfortable, Schiller had to find another target. As he pondered whom to bother, Stark suddenly called. Schiller answered the phone:
“What? Miss Pepper?... What's happened to Tony? Alright, I'll co over now.”
After saying this, he changed his clothes and headed to the front of Arkham Sanatorium. JARVIS was already there to pick him up in a car.
“How does it feel to drive for the first ti?” Schiller, turning his head, looked at the robot sitting beside him. JARVIS, affixed to a chanical body, shook his head and said, “Sir, this isn't my first ti driving.”
“Of course, it is. And you're driving without a license.”
“No, I have a driver's license.” JARVIS replied, pulling out a driver's license from his pocket. Schiller took it, raised an eyebrow, and saw that it wasn’t Stark's license. The na on the license was indeed JARVIS.
“Did S.H.I.E.L.D. issue this to you?” Schiller asked, looking at the license.
“No, I passed the test myself.”
Schiller opened his mouth in surprise, then turned his head to look at JARVIS again. Despite wearing clothes similar to humans, it was obvious at a glance that he was a robot. So, Schiller asked, “How is the ntal state of your driving instructor? Should we invite him to Arkham Sanatorium for treatnt?”
“This is a new federal law. All chanical life forms traveling through the Solar System must obtain a driving license. The process is similar to that for humans, but stricter,” JARVIS said in his ever-gentle tone, lacking a bit of humor but otherwise indistinguishable from a normal human.
“Why is that?” Schiller asked, puzzled. “I know Stark has created many work robots for the Solar System construction plan, but why do robots need driving licenses?”
“It started with the Solar System traffic jam three days ago…” JARVIS said, turning the steering wheel. “Each project leader wanted their exploration and transportation robots to reach their destinations as quickly as possible. So, they all set the shortest routes between planets, and then... the scene was quite tragic.”
“Don't we have Portals?” Schiller asked. “I rember a Portal was opened between Earth and rcury. Why was there a traffic jam?”
“Yes, but this was a different accident. Everyone wanted to use the Portal first, believing their experints were the most important. But the Portal needs to cool down, so... that scene was also quite tragic.”
Schiller shook his head helplessly. Although the Solar System construction plan was progressing vigorously and humanity was united on many fronts, the pursuit of efficiency ant that minor frictions never ceased.
As the car entered Stark Tower’s underground parking lot, Schiller saw Pepper, her face etched with anxiety.
Before Schiller could ask, Pepper blurted out:
“Tony's anxiety disorder has flared up again, and it's worse than ever. Now he's even struggling to eat, his hands shaking constantly. I wouldn't have disturbed your rest if it weren't extrely urgent…”
“Yes, I understand.” Schiller nodded, and the two walked to the elevator, heading to the laboratory. Standing outside the lab, Schiller turned to Pepper and said:
"I've already guessed a bit about his illness, but it's sowhat difficult to explain. If you really want to understand his condition…"
"No, Dr. Schiller, I only care about whether he's healthy." Pepper gathered her hair, looking at Schiller, "You don't have to explain the reasons to . I just want to see a normal Tony Stark, not one troubled by anxiety. I believe you feel the sa, right?"
Dr. Schiller didn't say much more, turning his head and pushing open the door of the laboratory. Stark, as usual, was sitting in front of the lab table, fiddling with so models. When Schiller approached, Stark didn't even turn his head, just saying:
"Ah, you're here? Did Pepper call you? She always makes a big deal out of nothing. Won are like that..."
"It would be more convincing if your right arm didn't tremble when you said that." Schiller sat across from Stark and asked, "Did you see sothing? At the mont this space changed?"
Stark turned his head away, seemingly reluctant to discuss the issue. Schiller continued, "If we're on the sa level, it ans we're both facing this problem. Perhaps my way of dealing with it could inspire you, right?"
Stark pursed his lips, his fingers continuously twirling the model in his hand. From his eye contact, it was clear his attention wasn't focused on any research project; his mind was elsewhere.
After a while, he finally asked, "Is everything we experience predestined? Arranged by a higher existence?"
"An interesting question. What do you think?"
Stark opened his mouth but then closed it. After thinking for a while, he said, "That day, I saw sothing... an indescribable, grand presence. I don't know if it was God or sothing else, but compared to him, all of space seed insignificant..."
"I saw that everything happening in the universe was inextricably linked to him. I don't know how to describe it... but maybe I'm the sa..."
"Perhaps." Unexpectedly, Schiller nodded, "Maybe everything we're doing and thinking now is prearranged. A higher being is deciding these things, shaping the future of space."
Schiller's tone was calm as Stark looked at him, sowhat puzzled, "Don't you find this absurd? Don't you want to resist?"
"No, because I understand that in this world, no one is truly independent. As long as one has emotions, they will be influenced, acting to et soone's expectations."
"For instance, studying hard to et parents' expectations, preparing a party for friends, changing one's career path for a lover, choosing to be with them. All these influences together shape a person's life."
"So, whether it's being arranged by a higher being or changed by family, friends, and love, it's not that important."
Schiller looked into Stark's eyes, "You think your choices are independent, but the motivations and personality driving those choices are influenced by external factors... No one is an island in this world."
"This..." Stark wanted to argue. If it's predetermined to be influenced, then who does the influencing doesn't really matter, this logic is sowhat flawed. But upon further thought, it seed true.
Schiller tapped on the table and said:
"You think you're just yourself, but in reality, you are a reflection of many people."
"Parents, teachers, classmates, friends – their influence on you becos a part of you."
"As long as you live in society, no one is completely independent. Your personality already bears the nas of everyone you know."
"If they influence by 50%, and the higher being influences by 99%, or 100%, there's no difference. It can't be 0."
"As long as it's not 0, even if it's lower, it doesn't matter." Schiller shook his head, seemingly unconcerned.
"I just find it absurd that this being can control our space at any ti..." Stark paused, not continuing. But Schiller could see a sense of despondency on his face.
After all, anyone who knows their efforts are trivial to so higher beings, easily erased, would be greatly affected, especially a genius like Stark.
Ordinary people might think, "Well, I haven't done much good, I don't contribute much to the world, if I'm gone, so be it." But Stark is different. He firmly believes he's changing the world, that he has a responsibility to lead humanity to a better future. But once this belief collapses, his personality is in jeopardy.
Schiller calmly guided Stark, his words indeed comforting him. After all these experiences, Stark was no longer the superficially tough, internally fragile playboy.
Seeing his mood improve slightly, Schiller tily took his leave, giving him ti to think alone.
As soon as he stepped out of the room, Schiller's calm expression broke. He clenched his teeth and muttered lowly:
"If it weren't for compensation, would I do this?... Damn planner, you just wait."
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