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

Lin Zheng pushed open the heavy wooden door of the bar, and a murky smell mixed with alcohol, cheap perfume and fried food hit him.

Smith Williams, standing beside him, seemed to be back on his home turf; he relaxed his shoulders and let out a long breath.

This is the "Thinker's Bar," a popular spot among students in the university town, known for its low prices and lively atmosphere.

Behind the bar, a burly man in a leather apron was wiping glasses, the clinking sound standing out clearly amidst the chaos.

In the afternoon, the bar was already packed with people, with groups of students filling every corner.

Their voices, like a swarm of bees, buzzed loudly yet clearly audible, and the focus of their discussion was invariably the chaos that had occurred in the school square that afternoon.

"Unbelievable!" a law student wearing thick glasses exclaimed, gesturing wildly to his companion. "This is a lawyer's nightmare, and also heaven."

"Hell!" his companion, a pale-faced medical student who was clearly still reeling from the shock, retorted.

"Think about it, 'illegal drug administration' and 'endangering public safety,' and they're targeting minors!"

The law student seemed excited, his hand conjuring up a fake indictment in the air.

"But at the same time, it also involves the mental state of the drug user, the purity of the motivation, and whether the victimized child has a history of potential allergies, etc."

He pushed up his glasses, his eyes gleaming, as if he could already see a major case that would go down in legal history, one in which he could shine.

But the reality is that all he can do here is brag, haha.

Smith, with practiced ease, squeezed to the bar and shouted in his hearty voice, tinged with a Southern accent, "Two of the strongest whiskeys, buddy! This is a serious matter today, you can't get away with anything less than the real deal!"

He casually tossed a few bills onto the bar and then gestured with his chin toward Lin Zheng.

The bartender glanced at Lin Zheng, took the money, and quickly poured two glasses of wine.

Smith picked up his glass, took a deep breath, his Adam's apple bobbed, and the glass of whiskey was emptied in an instant.

He smacked his lips, poured another half glass, and handed it to Lin Zheng, his movements rough but his eyes sincere.

"Come on, brother, don't just stand there like an idiot, have a drink," he said. "Today's spectacle deserves a good drink."

Lin Zheng took the wine glass; the glass was icy cold.

He took a small sip; the spicy liquid instantly burned his throat before sliding down into his stomach, bringing a belated warmth.

At the next table, several business school students were having a heated debate.

"Have you heard? The stock price of 'Happy Leaf' has dropped by nearly ten percent!" A young man in a suit and tie said, his face ashen, as if he had just experienced his first financial crisis.

"I told you long ago, that thing was a time bomb, it was bound to cause trouble sooner or later." Another girl raised an eyebrow dismissively. "But who would have thought it would be that nice guy Rowan Casey who detonated it? I thought it would be some street drug dealer."

"This is about market trust, ma'am!" the man's voice rose several octaves. "Once people start questioning the safety of 'Happy Leaf,' the entire industry chain will be impacted. Our previous investments might be wasted!"

"Alright, stop complaining." A shrewd young man sitting across from me waved his phone. "Now, the most crucial question is how their company will 'package' this as an accident, a 'special case,' rather than a defect in the product itself."

In his view, this seemed to be a business case that could be deconstructed and restructured.

"For example, one could emphasize Rowan Casey's personal mental health issues, or the vulnerability of children, shifting the blame to the end user, or the failure of the 'personalized experience,' rather than the quality of the drug."

He instinctively looked at Smith, hoping to see a trace of empathy in the other's eyes, whether it was anger or despair.

However, Smith simply shrugged and poured himself another glass of whiskey.

"See? This is the 'common sense' of this world." He whispered to Lin Zheng, "They don't think about right or wrong, they only calculate the pros and cons. Law students calculate the success rate, business students calculate profits and losses, medical students calculate the mortality rate, everyone is calculating their own accounts."

"Doesn't anyone think this is wrong?" Lin Zheng asked hoarsely.

He felt like an outsider.

Smith shook his head, downed another half glass of wine, and gave a bitter smile.

"They'll just think she didn't 'control the dosage'," he said, pointing to another group in the crowd arguing heatedly. "Or that this kind of 'pleasure' shouldn't be shared with minors, since that's an adult privilege."

Lin Zheng followed Smith's gaze.

"I think the key issue isn't the 'happiness' itself," said a young man in a white lab coat who looked like a teaching assistant, adjusting his glasses. "It's that she didn't choose the right 'age group' for her 'experience promotion.'"

He spoke in a detached, academic tone.

"From a neurobiological perspective, children's brains are not fully developed and have a weaker tolerance to the hallucinogenic components in 'leaves,' making them more prone to overreactions and long-term neurological damage."

He paused, then adjusted his glasses.

"If she could choose a suitable age range, such as over eighteen, I believe it would be a more successful 'social experiment'."

The students next to him nodded in agreement.

"What should the law set as the legal age for children to first experience 'pleasure'?" another voice asked, sharp and shrill, with a hint of sarcasm.

That was the question raised by the law school student earlier.

"Perhaps stricter regulations and approval processes are needed to ensure that only the right people can buy and enjoy happiness," another person added.

The concepts of "right and wrong" and "good and evil" become so fragile and ridiculous here.

Society as a whole is like a huge, sophisticated machine, with every gear working efficiently in order to maintain an absurd and terrifying balance.

The injured children and their terrified screams are merely the calculable and negligible "wear and tear" and "costs" in the operation of this machine.

Lin Zheng's throat tightened, and he could only gulp down the wine in his hand to suppress his emotions.

Seeing his reaction, Smith unusually put away his cynical expression, his gaze lingering on Lin Zheng's face for a few seconds, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

He picked up his glass, walked to the center of the bar, and tapped it hard, making a crisp sound.

In the noisy bar, most people ignored him, but Smith kept shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Hey! guys! guys! guys! listen to me!"

Once everyone quieted down and looked at him, he paused for a moment before continuing.

"My fellow future pillars of society, future elites! Today we have all witnessed a tragedy. I don't want to discuss how the tragedy unfolded from beginning to end, but I think the children deserve our pity."

He raised his glass.

"I propose a toast to those innocent children!"

He raised his glass high and drank the wine in one gulp.

As soon as he finished speaking, Smith slapped the bar counter with a flourish and loudly announced to the bartender, "All drinks tonight are on me, Smith! Cheers to the kids!"

The bar erupted in even louder cheers. The students, who had been preoccupied with their academic discussions, flocked to the bar to wash away the tension and anxiety of the afternoon with the help of the free alcohol.

Smith walked over to Lin Zheng and patted him on the shoulder. "Being a good person is tough. My advice for life is not to overthink things."

Lin Zheng raised his glass to Smith, and they drank the refilled glass together in one gulp.

"Let's go, Lin Zheng," he said. "Today's not a good day; it's not a good time to 'think' anymore. I have a fun party with lots of beautiful girls and some excitement you've never seen before. Want to come?"

Smith had a suggestive smile on his lips, and his tone was somewhat seductive.

"Let's drink first and talk about it later!" Lin Zheng slammed the man onto the bar.

Forget about pretty girls, slutty parties, and all that lewdness; he just wanted to get drunk first.

"drink!"