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

Lin Zheng was suddenly jolted awake from his open sociology book.

His heart pounded wildly, making a low, muffled thud in his throat.

The lungs, like leaky bellows, greedily inhale dry, warm air.

He tried hard to recall the dream he had just had, but only some blurry fragments remained; the memory and the dream were separated by a thick layer of frosted glass.

The tranquility characteristic of the Miskatonic University Library felt oppressive and empty at this moment.

Only the overhead fluorescent tubes emitted a slight hum, accompanied by the rhythmic whispers of the heating pipes.

The white light was excessively glaring, casting a dull, pale hue over everything around it.

Lin Zheng rubbed his temples, which were throbbing slightly.

On the pages of the book, he highlighted numerous key points and notes with a highlighter.

He glanced at his digital watch; it was 2:17 a.m.

In the library’s huge reading room, besides him, there were only two or three other similar figures.

It seems everyone is just as exhausted from studying.

With the Christmas holidays approaching, most people have already left school to enjoy this rare peace and quiet.

Lin Zheng, however, remained trapped by these theoretical texts.

For every second he spends in this country, he can calculate how many US dollars that represents.

The exorbitant tuition and living expenses truly make studying abroad a must, especially studying in the United States.

He thought of his parents' increasingly gray hair back home, their pride in him in their small hometown, and the text message that their account balance was zero when they sent him tuition fees.

The expectations he carried on his shoulders were so heavy that he could hardly breathe.

They left their homeland and set foot on this unfamiliar land, harboring dreams of the "American Dream."

He originally thought that as long as he worked hard, he could realize all his ambitions in this "land of freedom".

The coldness of reality gradually smoothed out his rough edges.

The ivory tower of academia is suffocating and cutthroat; the library’s collection and the professors’ words seem to have no connection with the world outside the window.

He couldn't engage in such profound academic discussions; instead, he felt increasingly alienated and exhausted.

A sharp, gnawing pain in his stomach pulled him out of his chaotic thoughts.

Lin Zheng carefully closed the thick, brick-sized book in his hand.

He tidied up the laptop and water glass on the table. Every joint in his body was protesting against the long hours of sitting still, and his neck cracked as he turned it.

He dragged his heavy steps past rows of towering bookshelves.

His gaze traveled across the ancient, yellowed spines of the books, which spoke of truths and tried to help him understand their grandeur.

Stepping out of the reading room, the cold corridor was lit only by a few emergency lights, casting his shadow long and twisted on the ground.

The elevator arrived with a "ding," and he was the only passenger in the empty car.

As it ascends, the buildings of Miskatonic University appear even more solemn and austere in the night through the transparent glass curtain wall.

Looking at the Gothic spires and intricately patterned windows, he inexplicably recalled Edgar Allan Poe's "The Fall of the House of Usher," and a sense of unease coursed through his body like an electric shock.

Lin Zheng pressed the button for the top floor and arrived at the library's observation deck.

The outdoor temperature plummeted, and the icy air instantly stung his nostrils, making him shiver violently.

He walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

A thin layer of fog had formed on the windowpane, a trace of his breath clashing with the freezing cold outside.

He casually drew a few strokes on the window with his fingertips, blurring the view outside.

In the distance, the neon lights of the commercial district shone brightly.

That bright ocean was the destination he had dreamed of during countless sleepless nights.

It is his struggle to this day that sustains his entire meaning.

There are towering financial buildings, neon-lit shopping malls, and restaurants and bars where people clink glasses and chat.

Together they depict the most alluring picture of the "American Dream".

Freedom, prosperity, and endless opportunities—an Eden where anything can be achieved through hard work.

Lin Zheng stared intently at the light, his weary eyes piercing through the pitch-black night and the hazy mist.

The cold air relentlessly seeped into his clothes, assaulting his already hungry body.

He could feel an impulse, an urge to rush into that light, to touch it, to feel it.

He wondered if it was really as warm and hopeful as he had imagined.

Instead of the theoretical texts in this library, which are just cold, abstract concepts.

He withdrew his hand from the glass, feeling a numb, icy sensation in his fingertips.

Lin Zheng left the library and stepped into the cold midnight wind.

The university town was silent, with only the distant wind whistling in your ears.

He pulled his coat tighter around himself and strode towards the bus stop.

The streetlights cast long shadows on the wet pavement, reflecting his slightly bewildered face.

He waited for about seven or eight minutes under the empty bus stop sign before a bus heading towards the city center slowly pulled up.

The bus came to a stop, and the doors opened slowly with a hiss.

Lin Zheng swiped his card to get on the bus and habitually said "thank you".

The driver merely glanced at him without responding.

The carriage was empty except for him and the driver.

He walked to the middle of the carriage and found a seat by the window.

The dim overhead lights softly illuminated the carriage, but the outside world remained shrouded in the deep darkness of night.

The distinctive roar of the diesel engine sounded particularly loud in the empty carriage.

The sound of tires rubbing against the road, mixed with the occasional creaking of the car body, created a lonely symphony in the night.

He watched the street scene rushing past the window.

In the university town area, scattered Christmas decorations have been lit up and are adorning the buildings.

As the car sped up, the scenery on both sides began to blur.

He saw that the snack shops and convenience stores he had passed by during the day were now closed, their dark facades exuding an air of decay.

The bus left the university area and entered a quiet residential area.

Most of the houses here are lit with warm yellow lights, and silhouettes of people moving around inside can be vaguely seen through the curtains.

Lin Zheng's face was reflected with the light and shadows rushing past the car window, half light and half shadow.

He tried to piece together his vision of American society from these fragmented images.

Are those legends about success, happiness, and upward mobility really hidden under this night sky?

Or is it just a mirage that's out of reach?

The bus turned left at the next intersection, and the roar subsided.

Outside the window, the city lights began to twinkle, and the Christmas atmosphere grew stronger.

The air seemed to be filled with the sweet aroma of cinnamon and gingerbread, as well as an indescribable festive extravagance and liveliness.

The towering GG sign flashes enticing images, displaying a dazzling array of products that seem almost within reach.

Lin Zheng's heart began to race, gripped by an intense anticipation.

He saw the glamorous scenes that usually only existed on screens and in magazines.

He wondered if he had tried hard enough to enter that world and share in the happiness it promised.

A sweet female voice came over the loudspeaker, announcing the name of the upcoming station: "Next stop, downtown business district, Central Avenue."

The disembarkation indicator light inside the carriage lit up, and Lin Zheng took a deep breath.

He stood up and slung his somewhat stiff backpack over his shoulder.

The car door opened again with a hiss, and a lively and noisy atmosphere rushed out, which contrasted sharply with the dullness inside the carriage.

Without hesitation, he pushed open the car door and stepped out.

What greets you is a bizarre and bustling world.

In the shop windows along the street, mannequins dressed in brightly colored clothes wear an unchanging smile.

A cheerful Christmas carol rang out from a street speaker, the singing accompanied by the crackling sound of an old cassette tape, sounding somewhat strangely off-key.

Lin Zheng stood on the bustling street, feeling the unprecedented prosperity and noise.

He felt that this was exactly the "American Dream" he had been pursuing all along, a dream that was within reach.