The Decaying Dream of America: I Assemble Corpses and Confront Madness

Lin Zheng sat on a metal stool in the morgue.

A body covered with a white sheet lay on the operating table in front of him.

This was his third attempt in several days.

The familiar taste stirred up lingering feelings deep within him.

Memories of the school's anatomy lab came flooding back.

Under bright lights, students in white lab coats excitedly discussed something.

He was once one of them, filled with a thirst for the mysteries of life.

Now, he is just a "Gundam builder" abandoned by the world.

His gloved hands trembled slightly.

He tried to concentrate, wanting to strike and trigger [Mental Re-correction].

He wanted to use [Residual Dream Perception] to enter the remaining consciousness of the "parts" under the white cloth.

But he can't do it. Now even dissecting corpses has become difficult for him. The intense mental shock he experienced before may have caused him to suffer from PTSD.

But with each attempt, a chaotic scene would explode in my mind.

That was the vague fear Martinez felt before he died.

Those empty eyes, hollowed out by drugs.

Those silent wails.

He could sense the negative emotions emanating from deep within the corpse's tissues.

Those emotions were tangible toxins, trying to erode his reason.

He abruptly pulled his hand back.

He leaned back against the metal stool.

A chill ran down my spine.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm the nausea churning in his chest.

"Not enough, I can't fully master it yet."

He whispered to himself.

His abilities are now more of a curse.

It amplifies all the pain.

He needs a clearer head.

He forced himself to stand up, washed his hands, took off his work clothes, and walked out of the morgue.

The night was deep, and only the distant lights of the city were still twinkling.

He strolled slowly back to school. Although it was a long distance, he decided to walk back anyway. This ascetic-like long walk allowed his brain to think and organize some issues, which was a method he often used.

Miskatonic University.

The notice posted on the campus bulletin board has been updated again.

"Professor Finch's 'Affect-Reason Dynamics' Research Project: Seeking research assistants and volunteers to explore the boundaries of emotion, cognition, and reason. Generous compensation; details can be found on the campus network."

Professor Alistair Finch, a crazy old man.

He was considered crazy because of his obsessive and relentless research spirit.

He once tried to recruit Lin Zheng to his team, saying he was attracted by his talent.

But Lin Zheng's research skills were lacking, and he relied entirely on his mentor's connections; who knows what kind of talent he was talking about.

"Besides, what are you talking about, emotions or reason?"

A mocking sneer curled up from the corner of his mouth.

What "emotion" and "reason" is left in this country?

This godforsaken place was draining his sanity even from breathing.

He turned off the screen.

Lying in bed.

I could hear the rats scurrying around in the wall next door.

He fell back into that endless insomnia.

A few days later, as autumn deepened, the atmosphere of Halloween Eve permeated the university campus.

Pumpkin lanterns, spider webs, and the ghostly decorations that the students had put on in advance all heralded the arrival of a carnival.

But beneath these appearances, the desolation on the streets and the false prosperity of the high-rise buildings create a stark contrast.

For him, university was nothing more than classrooms, cafeterias, research labs, and libraries.

Miskatonic University cafeteria.

The atmosphere reached a small climax here on Halloween Eve.

The cafeteria was decorated in a gaudy and flashy way.

A huge black spider model hangs from the ceiling.

The walls were covered with silhouettes of witches and ghosts.

The air was filled with the mixed smells of cheap candy and fried food.

Lin Zheng sat in a secluded corner, carrying his tray.

His plate contained a spoonful of mashed potatoes, a few slices of roast meat, a bowl of salad, and a bottle of yogurt.

These foods, which I don't know whether to eat before or after a meal, are actually quite palatable.

Ever since he first came to the United States, every time he eats these foods, he misses the food of his homeland and then regrets why he came to study abroad.

He chewed silently, finding no flavor in his mouth.

He listened to the noisy voices around him.

Laughter and cheers rose and fell.

He raised his head.

His gaze fell on the table next to him.

Kevin Lee and his girlfriend Jessica Wong, along with several other students, sat together.

Their faces were beaming with carefree smiles.

Jessica Wong's makeup is exquisite.

She never lets go of her phone.

She was looking at photos of pumpkin carvings.

"Oh my god! Kevin Lee, look at this! This 'Gates of Abomination' themed pumpkin! The details are amazing!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Kevin Lee leaned over and took a look.

He shrugged.

"It's nothing special, Jessica Wong. Your 'Bloody Mary' outfit is way better than this. I heard it cost you thousands of dollars?!"

Kevin Lee's tone carried a hint of exaggerated amazement.

"Of course! Halloween is all about getting into it, Kevin Lee! Who cares about those cheap props that you can buy for a few dollars?"

Jessica Wong chuckled.

She shook the phone in her hand.

Her gaze casually swept over Lin Zheng's direction.

Then move it away quickly.

He's just an insignificant background figure.

"By the way, are we going to Professor Finch's house tonight to cause trouble?" another boy suddenly asked.

"Yes, yes, yes! Isn't that old man the richest? I heard his research projects are paid exceptionally well," the girl chimed in.

Last year's "trick or treat" incident scared him so much that he spilled whiskey all over the floor!

Kevin Lee slapped the table and laughed loudly.

The laughter was exaggerated, unrestrained, and extremely loud.

Party outfits costing thousands of dollars?

A university professor with a well-paid research project?

He recalled the lingering dreams of those homeless people.

They huddled in a dirty corner, struggling for a bite of food and craving a booster.

He recalled the "Gundam parts" in the morgue.

Those who died whose names are unknown.

They were once living, breathing people.

They once had hope.

But now, they can't even have a whole body.

And these people.

These are people living in an ivory tower.

They depict the struggles of those at the bottom.

Take other people's fears.

Used as cheap material for carnivals.

It's used as a source of amusement during casual conversation.

"What a fun Halloween!"

Lin Zheng felt a bitter, rusty taste in his mouth.

He knew he was used to the abnormal, yet longed for the normal. But everything he had experienced told him that in this country, the line between the two lay in indifference. By ignoring the man-made "abnormalities," you stood on the side of normalcy.

These international students, or to put it bluntly, these Americans, belong here.

They disregard the abnormalities at the bottom of this country and consider themselves normal.

They believe that "those people are beyond saving, and there is no need to save them. Although they exist, they are a very small part of the city's population, and the least important part of it."

"The people and environment in many more important places are still very beautiful, and we should enjoy these beautiful parts. This is the positive attitude towards life."

What a grand and self-justifying statement, what a positive and uplifting lifestyle, and what an indifferent and blatant disregard.

So why can't those at the bottom enjoy the same good life? Is it because they don't want to?

Lin Zheng never learned the American mindset, even though he was a mature member of society who knew how to please his mentor and make friends with his colleagues.

But at his core, he was still an Eastern Xia person. He couldn't ignore those who were left behind, and he always thought about how to help them.

Those international students who integrate into the United States and consider themselves future Americans have all naturally grasped American values ​​upon arriving in this land.

Therefore, they saw only prosperity, while Lin Zheng saw only devastation.

He slowly put down his almost untouched plate.

The few slices of roasted meat on the plate looked so greasy.

So hypocritical.

He stood up.

Not a sound was made.

He turned around.

I walked silently toward the cafeteria entrance.

Kevin Lee, Jessica Wong, and others were still laughing heartily.

Their laughter echoed behind them.

It grew louder and louder.

It became increasingly jarring.

An invisible flame.

A surge of resentment ignited in his heart.

Lin Zheng returned to his simple apartment.

The room was pitch black.

He didn't turn on the light.

He walked straight to the window.

Outside the window, the sky hung low.

Fine raindrops slanted against the glass.

It makes a rustling sound.

But he could sense that this rain was different from usual.

The air was filled with a damp, suffocating smell.

He turned on the TV.

The screen lit up instantly.

The pale light illuminated his tired face.

The news channel is broadcasting an emergency weather forecast.

A weather forecaster in a suit always wears a formulaic smile.

At this moment, her expression was unusually serious.

Her tone was more solemn than ever before.

"...I want to remind all citizens again that this is by no means ordinary rainfall." She pointed to the distorted weather map behind her.

"Weather models show that tonight's freezing rain and cold wave will bring humidity up to 99%."

"Please be sure to keep warm and dry, and minimize unnecessary outings."

"Extreme weather may be accompanied by unpredictable anomalies."

Her voice carried an unsettling sense of urgency.

"Uncertain anomalies." Lin Zheng silently repeated this sentence.

The rain outside the window was getting heavier and heavier.

Rainwater pooling on the glass blurred the city's outline.

The whole world was wrapped in a transparent film.

They uttered ominous whispers.