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

Lin Zheng sat in front of his computer. On the screen was an email from Professor Finch, the title of which was "Urgent Meeting Regarding Your Thesis Progress".

Just now, in the cramped rented room, the discussion between Smith and Sam about the "ranch" and "tickets" echoed in his mind again, clearer than the sound of rain outside the window.

What he is facing now is not some abstract grand narrative.

He was faced with a countdown to his visa expiration, piles of tuition and material payment notices on the corner of his desk, and Professor Finch's stressful "urgent meeting" notice.

This instruction came from the ranch manager.

Lin Zheng was merely a piece of livestock on this ranch, waiting to be evaluated.

His value depends on what he can contribute.

His thesis, his studies, and even his future job were all conditions that allowed him to stay here.

Professor Finch is precisely the key guardian of this door.

Lin Zheng knew that, given his current research progress, it would be difficult to submit a graduation thesis that would satisfy the professor in a short period of time.

His academic shortcomings were laid bare.

And this country won't give him much time to make amends.

Over the past few days, he has tried many methods, but all to no avail.

As an international student who came to this "ranch" from a foreign country, he once dreamed of making a name for himself here with his talent.

But reality has already crushed him time and again.

Those resumes that were sent out disappeared without a trace.

Local connections? Apart from Smith and Sam, he had no one else he could rely on.

A strong recommendation from his mentor? He knew nothing about Professor Finch's daily preferences.

Rather than passively waiting for failure and deportation, it's better to take the initiative.

He sat on the creaking wooden chair for a long time.

Night fell outside the window, eventually blending into the dimness inside the room.

The letters on the keyboard gleamed pale in the dim light of the screen.

He raised his hand, his fingertips repeatedly stroking the plastic keycaps, feeling their cold texture.

Lin Zheng finally put his hands back on the keyboard.

It was not that he chose to submit.

He had no other choice.

dignity?

That thing is worthless here.

Let's wait until he can establish himself here before picking it up little by little.

If there is still a chance.

He turned on the computer.

The light from the screen instantly pierced the darkness, reflecting the resolute look on Lin Zheng's face.

He quickly switched to the browser interface and began searching for information about Professor Finch.

The official website of Miskatonic University, professors' personal homepages, lists of published academic papers, and even sporadic discussions about professors on some alumni forums.

Lin Zheng carefully analyzed Professor Finch's "public personality".

He tried to piece together the man's preferences, habits, and deeper needs from this.

Everything was done to secure a chance for survival in the upcoming "emergency meeting."

Lin Zheng quickly organized the search results into a mind map.

Professor Finch, a star professor at Miskatonic University, is a charming and brilliant man.

There is a lot of information about his public appearances, which seems to suggest that he is deliberately creating a certain image.

At an academic forum on marine ecology, Lin Zheng discovered that the professor had jokingly mentioned that his greatest hobby was deep-sea fishing.

The professor vacations every year in the waters off New England, where the catch is very plentiful.

Someone on the forum even mentioned that the professor once postponed an important academic conference because of a giant tuna.

This is enough to prove the professor's passion for sea fishing.

There is also some scattered information.

In an interview with the school newspaper ten years ago, Professor Finch complained about how inefficient and time-consuming the work of organizing old-fashioned paper archives was.

He seems to have an almost obsessive admiration for digital archiving.

In his recent public speeches, the professor has repeatedly mentioned the academic community's need for reform of the "old knowledge management system".

This information is not top secret.

Lin Zheng stared intently at the screen, quickly filtering through each word.

These are all fragmented clues that he needs to "assemble".

From these seemingly insignificant details, Lin Zheng discerned Professor Finch's underlying needs.

This is an excellent opportunity to break through.

He began to mentally rehearse each step.

Professor Finch, a top-tier intellectual elite, appears glamorous on the surface.

But everyone has their weaknesses.

A person's dedication to certain hobbies and habits is often more touching than superficial honors.

Or rather, they are easier to exploit.

This is not academic.

This is a strategy, a calculation, putting one's future and dignity on the table for sale.

But he forced himself to stop thinking about these things and stop the internal conflict.

He needs to focus on solving the problem.

The white light from the screen reflected emotionlessly on his face.

His eyes no longer held pain, only focused calculation.

He needs to make himself useful.

Only those who are useful can survive.

He opened the email composer interface.

Recipient: Professor Finch's email address.

Subject: Seeking advice regarding the progress of my graduation thesis.

Lin Zheng's fingers hovered over the keyboard, each word and phrase being repeatedly pondered and considered in his mind.

This email was neither a simple request for help nor mere flattery.

It was a sophisticated social engineering experiment.

You need to show enough "sincerity" but not appear overly deliberate.

It is necessary to express a "desire for knowledge" while implying one's "potential value".

He started by mentioning the recent "emergency meeting".

Expressing anxiety about the progress of the paper and "self-blame" for failing to meet the professor's expectations.

Then, cleverly introduce the topic of "deep-sea fishing" by using a "marine biological discovery" that you "casually" saw while browsing the news as an introduction.

Ultimately, the conversation naturally transitions to an understanding of the professor's "busy work."

Lin Zheng's fingertips danced across the keyboard, each character like a carefully placed scalpel, precise and restrained.

He wrote: "...Professor, I deeply admire your passion for marine life despite your busy schedule."

"Considering that you have to balance your research work with these rich leisure activities, you must have a lot of things to take care of."

He hesitated for a moment, then deleted "many things need to be taken care of" and changed it to a more euphemistic expression.

"Especially considering the work of organizing academic materials, if we still rely on traditional paper documents, the efficiency is indeed not high."

"I have recently dabbled in some new document archiving and data management systems. If possible, I would very much like to share some of the tedious work of organizing materials with you, Professor, as this is also part of my learning process."

Lin Zheng read it twice.

"Trivial work" is a perfect description.

This way, one won't appear to have ulterior motives, and can appropriately express one's "humility" and "instrumental nature."

At the end of the email, he reiterated the sincerity of his tone and his plea for help.

He hovered the cursor over the "Send" button.

Take a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

Press down with your index finger.

Click.

The email has been sent, and a high-stakes gamble with dignity at stake has officially begun.