Madness ecstasy

The mathematician's eye slid down one side; the other eye was still eager to turn back to see the contents of his brain.

".Tsk."

The mathematician finally grinned and made an irritated and angry sound; then he threw Richard out. The latter rolled over and stood up immediately - but did not take out the pistol at his waist again.

The mathematician unhurriedly reattached the first joint of his index finger, which really snapped back into place like a plastic toy.

Then he tore open his shirt, exposing his skinny chest with a protruding sternum and bullet holes.

and a vague mass of connective tissue on his chest.

There, the mathematician originally thought it had eczema and was red and swollen; but now it is much more horrible, covered with bumps and scars, densely packed, extending all the way to the armpits.

If one has a strong imagination, one can think of it as a blurry human face: scars, scabs, and hyperplastic connective tissue outline the hazy contours and facial features.

Click, click--

The mathematician used his fingers to poke and dig at his right breast - finally, from a pile of thick scars and hyperplasia, he squeezed out a brass bullet.

Ding: The mathematician tossed it aside. It seemed the bullet Richard had just fired hadn't actually penetrated his lungs.

The mathematician glared at Richard and began to rub and scrub his chest vigorously with his hands, as if he was washing dead skin and dust in a bathhouse.

The blurry face faded as he rubbed it, and the dandruff rolled into a roll and fell to the ground; in its place was translucent, amniotic skin: it stretched across the chest like an acrylic sheet, extending down to the lower abdomen -

Neither the lungs nor the heart can be seen; behind the ribs and sternum is amber-yellow body fluid filled with bubbles.

Gulp, gurgle: the thin amniotic membrane kept expanding and contracting, just like a heartbeat; but there was no real heart inside.

In the swirling liquid, there was a miniature human. It looked a bit like a deformed fetus soaked in formaldehyde, but its head and body proportions were exactly the same as a normal person's; it was just shrunk proportionally to the size of a palm, as small as a toy doll.

She was even wearing neat clothes and a windbreaker, the material of which could not be seen clearly in the blurry liquid; her facial features were distorted by the liquid, but her long hair was tied up tightly, with only the ends fluttering in the waves.

The little man knocked on the amniotic "shell" and waved his matchstick-thick arms and two even thinner middle fingers at Richard, not caring at all whether the other party could see clearly.

The mathematician spoke, his voice so full of anger that it trembled:

"Are you crazy? I'm halfway through the renovations and you're acting crazy here."

"If you can see it, then you can see it. Why don't you just say it and ask directly? You have to keep shouting and calling for war."

Richard stared at the mathematician intently, automatically filtering out the offensive swear words:

"You're so carelessly exposing it—" He pointed at the translucent amniotic membrane on the scientist's chest; "That means it's not your weak spot."

The mathematician carefully searched for the remaining dead skin on his waist and scraped it off with his fingernails. He did not even look up, as if he were opening a package.

".You can try it, right? See what happens if you shoot it? Will it bounce back like a doudou? I'm curious too, huh?"

Richard turned his gaze to the bullet rolling on the ground, then back again. He shifted his gaze up and down, unsure which side to regard as the other person's face:

"Okay, stop testing me. You're showing off like this, are you afraid I'll shoot you again?"

He suddenly sighed and covered his mouth with his fist:

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—please don't be so angry. After all, the doctor vomited his internal organs. I don't think one or two bullets can kill him. Or you, of course."

"I just want to talk to you, I'm sincere."

The mathematician finally scraped off all the dead skin - his chest and ribs were all glowing with an amber-like light.

The little man in the chest cavity was breathing in and out in the body fluids in a funny way; bubbles were gurgling at the corners of his mouth.

The mathematician grinned as well, a trace of saliva dripping down, blurring the dried blood on his chin. His expression remained vacant, as if lost in a dream.

"Take a deep breath—take a deep breath. Forget it. Forget it. Don't worry about it. There's no need."

Rolling--

The mathematician's eyes rolled randomly, then finally stopped and fixed in the middle. This time, his tone became softer, his voice became sharper, and even the pronunciation position became the pharynx and nasal cavity:

"Hi! Senior Li Chuck, nice to meet you, I guess. Nice to meet you, haha."

He laughed dryly twice, and his speech became faster:

"You didn't have to be so violent to call me out. You and your partner—don't you both have serious violent tendencies? Your crazy, middle-aged, widowed partner used his fucking calloused fists to beat my face all over."

The calm lasted only a moment. As the mathematician spoke, anger and profanity poured out of him, but his expression remained largely unchanged:

"What about you? We finally got some time alone together, and you shot me right away—if I hadn't taken care of your body, you'd be dead by now."

-

Richard raised his "forelimb" which he couldn't tell if it was a fist or a palm:

"Don't get angry yet—let me tell you how I figured it out."

Seeing that the mathematician did not refute, and that the four eyes in his chest were all looking at him coldly, Richard continued:

"I didn't tell the truth at the food stall earlier:"

"I said at the time that the medical examiner was held hostage because the autopsy report hadn't come out yet? Actually, when I ran into him outside the morgue, he was just about to submit the autopsy report."

"Although the medical examiner was very scared at the time, he still mentioned that the female victim's situation was a bit strange."

Richard pressed his finger to his forehead and began to recite the contents of the autopsy report:

"[Obvious skin breaks were observed on the dorsal and palmar sides of the subject's wrist. The breaks were irregularly circular.]"

“[There were no typical lacerations or sharp trauma, no obvious burn features or ablation edges, and no bone damage.]”

"[No signs of normal inflammatory response, such as redness, swelling, or pus formation, were found in the surrounding area.]"

"This wrist wound is strange, isn't it? There's no typical external trauma, and no signs of endogenous disease. What does it sound like? Like organic ecstasy."

He raised his wrist and waved it at the mathematician, as if showing off his non-existent watch:

"Anyway, my guess is: either you, the [client], suddenly went into ecstasy before you died—you and John Dou died together, so you must have encountered Dou Dou; that's a possibility."

"Or... Actually, it was that thing that caused us to chase the [package] for so long."

"The [package] is actually hidden in your body, and it automatically left after the host died: Is this possible? After all, I don't know the exact nature of the [package]."

"It seems plausible that such an important [package] could be some kind of parasitic organism with consciousness."

"I originally wanted to take a closer look at your body and John's body to confirm what exactly happened."

"It's just that you were also involved in what happened in the morgue: Doudou didn't give me this opportunity."

Richard gently put his wrists together as a substitute for clapping:

"Connect the autopsy results with the strange things that happened to the doctor."

"Both of these conjectures are highly probable; but to truly verify them, I would have to injure the Doctor."

"He's really... wrong: there are so many things about the doctor that are abnormal, not just the vomiting, but also his behavior and motivations."

"You and I have received training, so it's normal for us to have some medical knowledge. But when the doctor was in the video room, he could even understand MRIs."

"I knew then that there was something wrong with him; and there was more to it than that."

"He made his entrance at the morgue at just the right moment; he periodically displayed an intense curiosity that even overshadowed his own safety concerns; he was so active on non-mathematical topics, even being a supporter of internet activism, and yet he was so aggressive towards me."

"Of course, it's possible that the Doctor's personality is just that eccentric—facing the pressures of life and death, it's hard for anyone to remain stable; it's normal for people to deform. But with so much going on, his movements can't stay in a consistent direction; I can only conclude that his psychology is being affected in some way."

"Possession? Mind control? Hypnotic suggestion? I didn't know at the time. Later, when I saw the vomiting, I realized it: it must be a parasite."

"Whether it's the [package] or your obsession, the biggest possibility is that this thing is in his possession—"

Richard raised his arm, revealing the holster on his waist:

"Either I hit him hard enough to shock the host, who was severely injured or unconscious, and the [package] might have come out of the wrist or some weird place; or, this is actually the effect of your ecstasy."

"I started by hitting his knees. When there was no reaction, I switched to his lungs. A large part of what he vomited up earlier was his lungs. I didn't mean to kill him."

"It's not surprising that both of them became disabled after staying with Dou Dou. At worst, I can find a way to help him get surgery. If that doesn't work, then he can stay with me and live with me as a disabled person."

"I looked back and forth at his wrist and other parts of his body, but there was no change. So I can only guess that it's your madness."

"After all, judging by the aggression the doctor has shown me—even if I asked, he wouldn't have said it nicely. I even doubt he's aware of the impact he's having."

He rubbed his eyes, his words filled with anticipation, but more with exhaustion:

"Is that still reasonable?"

"What's wrong? What are you doing? Explain this whole thing to me—are you expecting me to praise you?"

A malicious smile appeared on the mathematician's face. His previous anger did not disappear, but instead took on a new form:

"Are you scared by Doudou? Just now he acted like he had control over the doctor's life and death, and now he's showing off his own reasoning: you want to use this method to gain a sense of security? To gain a sense of control? How funny."

Richard sighed. Now he was completely exhausted:

".What else could it be? Of course, I want to show my sincerity."

"Just think of it as a display of value: I want to say I'm useful, and I don't want to fight you."

"Don't you think we could exchange intelligence and information, cooperate, or even form an alliance?"

Thanks to my friends for their support! Thank you all so much for your monthly tickets, reading, tips, and recommendations. I didn't dare to read the comments section or chapter reviews, nor did I dare to look at the data and backend until my friends told me. Thank you to the leader, the Murloc of Stranglethorn Vale.

Chapter 71 Collusion

The mathematician raised his forearm and placed it in front of his face. The skin was torn open due to the bulging muscles, and there was no sign of it closing up. It was painful just to look at it.

He opened his mouth and bit the wound; a buzzing sound like a sewing machine turned came from inside his mouth. He didn't know what was happening, and the strange sound was creepy.

The little guy in his heart still folded his arms, with indifference on his small face; he did not comment on Richard's invitation.

Richard wiped his forehead and leaned his back against the wall. His eyelids drooped as he stared at the tip of his blood-stained shoe.

"You're a cyber pusher, am I right?"

“We have a lot in common:”

"First, we were all sacrificed by those above us, treated as a trivial price to pay – I was used as a mop by the section chief or the company."

"What about you? If I'm not mistaken, you're an undercover agent sent here by the cyber pushers. But it's also a suicide mission, no difference."

"You don't look like someone who would be willing to play this kind of role. If you were willing to be a sacrifice, you wouldn't be here talking to me about your potential doctorate."

"Don't tell me—do you want to go through this again? Even if you return to the Cyber-Boosters, there's no guarantee you won't become a pariah again."

The mathematician finally lowered his arm—the inside of his forearm was covered in a layer of yellow glue-like paste, completely covering the wound:

"Oh—what? Are you trying to convince me to go undercover for you? In the Special Package Handling Division? To persuade me to go over and provide you with information?"

"Even after being bullied like this by the section chief, you're still so loyal to the company? I never thought you'd enjoy being a shill for Asia-Europe Post so much."

"The Link Revival Movement isn't a company. They don't care about profits." The mathematician paused, the small man in his heart slapping his palms on the hard amniotic membrane. "They foresee another future—a future that humanity can have."

"And the kind of future they describe and the path humanity might take is really interesting, you wouldn't understand it."

Richard raised his fingertips and pointed at the mathematician and the little man in his heart once each:

"So—it doesn't matter to you that you don't see such an interesting future? That's not the case."

This time, the tiny man in the mathematician's chest withdrew his hands and did not respond.

Richard shook his head. He spoke quickly and hurriedly:

"Besides, you're overthinking it. I'm just trying to form an alliance with you personally. I'm not in HR, so it's not my job to recruit you. Just hear me out first:"

"Secondly, I think the two or three of us are probably the people in this world who are closest to Doudou—in a sense, if you don't count that deskmate Doudou mentioned."

“This isn’t a resource you can just get away with, right?”

The mathematician raised his ten fingers in front of him and opened and closed them repeatedly. The joints made a strange "clicking" sound:

"You're not thinking of building an organization around Doudou: a cult, a religious cult, or anything like that? I respectfully decline."

"I studied for so many years, not to become a priest or an archbishop."

Richard frowned, and the word "Chuan" was squeezed out between his eyebrows:

"You'd better take off your glasses: you look smarter than you are in those lousy Doctor's glasses. Can't you figure that out?"

"Doudou--"

"We know what he is capable of, how to approach him, and even have a rough idea of ​​his personality and preferences."

"It's an advantage; a huge head start. If necessary - you can even take advantage of his violence."

Richard lifted up his suit and patted the pistol in the holster to echo what he said.

The mathematician stared at Richard quietly, no longer as irritable as before; he even ignored Richard's insults.