Cthulhu Panel: One organ mutates every day

Those threads stretched as far as the eye could see, seemingly infinitely close yet infinitely far, densely packed, some thick, some thin, some warm, some tinged with emotion, all converging and intertwining into a massive ball of yarn.

The ball of yarn kept undulating, twisting, and tangling.

The gray-haired girl watched from the side, her eyes full of anticipation.

"The ball of thread you see now represents his consciousness. Perhaps you can help him by adding a thread to it."

Wayne fell into deep thought.

Add a line?

If the ball of yarn represents consciousness, then are each strand of the yarn a thought, idea, or idea? Or perhaps a memory or cognition?

He asked me to help him add a thread to his spool of yarn...

Wayne looked at his hands.

At this moment, her palms were white and delicate, with a beautiful nail, making them appear as extremely soft and beautiful women's hands, or even arms.

I think I can actually pinch out a thread and then stuff it into his ball of yarn.

So what kind of line do you want to make?

He was once a professor of occultism and a senior investigator. The root of his symptoms was contamination by forbidden readings, causing him to mistake the sound of the wind for whispers. Over time, this led to the development of multiple symptoms.

The simplest way to help him is:

Insert a thread that makes him believe he didn't hear the whispers, even allowing him to bypass normal logical judgment and deceive himself.

It's actually quite simple to understand.

Whether it is religion or science, humans themselves have some fixed patterns of thinking or concepts, which usually come from cultural influence, educational environment, social opinion or personal growth experience.

Those ideas, like beliefs, are deeply ingrained and difficult to change, and they don't even require rational thought, just like being willingly deceived.

Complex beliefs are hard to fabricate, but simple beliefs are easy to fabricate, especially the "judgment" type, which often has a very direct effect.

It's like a stamped thought.

Wayne silently told himself, "I didn't hear any whispers."

Then, a thread materialized in his hand.

This thread is very thin, representing an idea, or you could say a thought, a realization.

"I didn't hear any whispers."

Wayne picked up the thin thread and stuffed it into the huge ball of yarn.

However, he found that the ball of yarn was too dense, with very small gaps between each strand. Even though the thread in his hand was very thin, he couldn't fit it into the ball of yarn.

He wanted to widen the gaps in the spool of yarn, so he tried to pry it apart with his palm.

But each thread in the ball of yarn felt incredibly heavy, and it was very difficult to move it.

Just then, a fair and delicate hand reached out.

"He used to be a senior investigator, he's very determined, let me help you out."

With just a light touch from that fair, delicate hand, the enormous ball of thread split open with an exaggerated slit, as if in fear.

"Alright, it's your turn."

Wei En immediately reached forward and stuffed the condensed thread in his hand into the gap of the ball of thread, where it took root and spread.

After a moment, the gaps in the ball of yarn slowly contracted, returning to its original dense state.

The thin thread remained in the ball of yarn, indistinguishable from the rest, blending seamlessly into it.

"That should count as finished."

With a thought, Wei En shrank the enormous ball of thread into the void and disappeared from sight, as if it had never existed.

The gray-haired girl looked at Wei En and said with a grin:

"This should cure most of his symptoms."

Wayne noticed her gaze and realized that this seemed to be a trait she had given him, so he asked:

"Is this one of my characteristics?"

The gray-haired girl nodded:

"Yes, according to you, this is my sequence characteristic. I'm giving you my favorite characteristic."

Wayne looked hesitant:

"But if I cure him, won't you miss out on one delicious treat?"

The gray-haired girl's eyes were pure and innocent:

"It's okay, I still have you. Come on, let's go in and see him."

She summoned the humanoid, decaying ecosystem—that is, the staff—opened the spine-shaped door lock, and pulled Wayne inside.

The short old man was no longer huddled up, nor was he holding the book upside down by himself. Instead, he sat up from the wicker chair, looking bewildered.

Wayne took a deep breath and walked up to the short old man.

The former professor of occultism was imprisoned, and so close to his past, yet he showed no reaction whatsoever that a normal human being should have.

This is enough to show that the other party is very likely not human, or not purely human.

In the current visual context, a real human should appear as a ghost or a free-moving investigator like the white-haired man, not as a crippled human being currently imprisoned.

The gray-haired girl followed beside him, watching expectantly.

Wayne leaned closer to the short old man and tentatively said:

"Hello, grandpa."

The short old man seemed to have heard it, but then thought he hadn't heard it clearly, so he took the cotton out of his ears.

He didn't dare look directly at the gray-haired girl, or perhaps he was too familiar with her; he merely glanced at Wei En out of the corner of his eye, hesitated for a moment, and then replied:

"Hello, who are you?"

Wayne paused, then asked directly:

"Grandpa, I'm an investigator from the Special Affairs Bureau. I'm here to ask you a few questions. Can you... still hear any whispers?"

The short old man looked on in surprise and doubt. Thinking of the old man standing beside him, he instantly realized that Wayne might be a messenger.

He looked at the yellowed cotton ball in his hand, seemingly still retaining a trace of the professionalism of a senior investigator, trying his best to recall the past and make some comparisons.

But after comparing for a long time, he still couldn't find anything unusual, so he looked incredulous and said in a hoarse voice:

"Whispers? I...I've never heard whispers."

It worked!

But some questions remain, such as how his assessment of his physical condition would change after that thread was inserted.

Logically, there shouldn't be any changes, since only one thread was inserted and the entire spool of yarn wasn't affected. As for whether it would cause a chain reaction, it's unclear.

Wayne asked again:

"So how do you view your current physical condition?"

The short old man remained silent for a moment, seemingly influenced by the presence of the gray-haired girl, before finally speaking with a bitter smile, his voice hoarse and somewhat frightening:

"Ha... If He were here, I wouldn't need to hide it from you, nor would I dare to."

Since you can talk to me, it means that in your eyes I still look like a normal human being, but in reality, my body has undergone irreversible mutation.

Previously, due to reading taboos, I suffered some serious contamination, which caused a series of chain reactions in my body, and I was imprisoned here.

In the end, I probably couldn't withstand the pollution, my properties went out of control, and I completely went mad.

Before that, in my mind, I always thought that the pollution was the whisper of some great being, a whisper that was everywhere.

But now that I'm fully conscious, I don't remember hearing any whispers, or rather, I'm so sure I didn't hear any whispers. Could it be... a problem with my memory?

Alienation?

Humans can also undergo mutation, just like the C-class and A-class bloodlines in the Bob case.

It turns out he has already mutated; he is indeed not purely human, which also fits his current visual presentation.

However, Wayne did not expect that even though this senior investigator was so weak and had just regained his senses, he would instantly grasp the essence of the problem with his professional skills.

It's a memory problem, or rather, a cognitive problem.

It seems that the idea that "I didn't hear the whispers" was still too abrupt for him.

A senior investigator, with his extensive experience and expertise, how could he not have heard the whispers?

If the design were more ingenious and subtle, perhaps he wouldn't realize that his perception was flawed.

To put it another way, imagine how terrifying the effects would be if this were applied to ordinary investigators or ordinary people...

That said, even someone like a senior investigator, did he really meet such a tragic end?

Fortunately, this was just an experiment, and I was there to help him, so there was no need to feel guilty.

Uh... actually, it seems like that's all I can help with.

Of course, Wayne's current thoughts are relatively basic and do not involve any important secrets, so there is no need for him to hide them from the gray-haired girl.

Wayne wanted to ask more questions, but was suddenly stopped by the gray-haired girl.

"Let's go, don't think about it anymore. Let's find another place to play. You'll get the hang of it after playing a lot." She smiled, her eyes crinkling.