Gotham City, on a morning that was neither sunny nor warm, students at Gotham University ushered in their final exam in psychology.
When Evans handed out the papers, there was a howl of ghosts and wolves in the classroom. Then, the sound of leather shoe heels on the marble floor was heard outside the door. In an instant, the classroom became silent.
Schiller packed up the umbrella in his hand and walked into the classroom. Seeing everyone immersed in writing, he nodded with satisfaction.
Then he put the umbrella on the ground, put his hand on the handle of the umbrella, stood in the middle of the classroom and said: "The time for this exam is 1 hour and 40 minutes. Theoretically, you can hand in the paper in advance, but it is very difficult for me to invigilate the exam here." Boring, I will definitely review the papers you hand in in advance."
"At least, you have to make sure that what you write is enough for me to read until you walk out of this classroom."
"Also, although I didn't ask you to sit separately, it's best not to whisper to each other. Please write neatly on the paper. No cursive is allowed. The most important thing is, please write your name clearly. I mean your legal name. Don't Just like the first week of school, I repeatedly emphasized not to write nicknames."
"Okay, let's start answering the questions."
Then the whole classroom fell completely silent, leaving only the rustling sound of the pen tip scratching on the scroll.
There has never been any classroom in Gotham University with such a rich learning atmosphere. Bruce looked up while writing. Sitting in front of him to the right was the nephew of the East End Hyena. This guy smoked and drank heavily in his early ten years. He fights and fights and is a pure bad boy.
But at this time, he was sitting in his seat. Ten minutes had passed and he was still immersed in writing. In other words, his brain, which was full of alcohol and tobacco, could still support him to write.
Sitting on Bruce's left is a famous graffiti boy from Gotham University. He is good at spray painting and often messes up the walls. He even spray-painted his big head graffiti into the principal's office when Seldon was enforcing the campus alcohol ban. on the corridor wall.
Remember https:// in one second. vip
He was almost on the verge of failing to write the first essay question and was drawing various patterns on the paper.
Bruce glanced at it with his good eyesight and found that he was painting Schiele, but it was different from those spoof graffiti. The Schiele under his painting brush had his back facing a black sun, his hands open, and some particle-like particles. Patterns are surrounding him, and the whole picture looks weird but handsome, but I don't know if Schiller is willing to appreciate his careful creation and give him two extra points.
After half an hour passed, more than two-thirds of the people were still writing. This was simply a miracle at Gotham University.
In the past, during final exams, first of all, there would be a few thorny students who were absent, and the seats would definitely be full. Two minutes into the exam, someone would finish writing their name, stand up, and leave.
Ten minutes after the exam starts, many people will finish the simple and easy-to-write multiple-choice questions, put down their pens, hand in the papers in advance, and leave directly.
In the past, after 20 minutes, there were only a few people left in the entire classroom. Even those who stayed were not there to write those essay questions, but they had no plans later and took advantage of the quietness of the classroom to sleep.
But now, Bruce looked up at his watch and saw that 40 minutes had passed, and half of the people were still writing.
No one dared to hand in the paper in advance. Even though most of them had racked their brains and were on the verge of reaching the end of their skills, most of them still bit their pens and sat in their seats, hoping that their small brains could squeeze out more. Write a few words for them on the paper, trying to make the professor less angry when he sees their answers that are between illiterate and semi-literate.
In fact, even in introductory psychology textbooks, the various proper nouns, names, theories, and definitions involved are difficult.
Not to mention this bunch of uneducated Gotham University students, even those students from prestigious American universities must prepare before giving special lectures, otherwise they will easily fall into the dilemma of having a blank mind.
Reciting is a difficult task in itself for these students whose brains have not been working for a long time, let alone reciting it suddenly within a week or two.
When an hour passed, most people had stopped writing. Bruce wrote down a list of those who were still working hard on the scratch paper. This would be the backbone of the psychology club he would form in the future.
He thought for a while and wrote the name of the graffiti boy. After all, clubs always need artists for publicity.
After waiting for a full hour and 40 minutes, when the "rewind" spit out by the professor sitting in front of him hit the floor heavily, the classroom could be heard exhaling one after another. It was obvious that they were going crazy.
After the papers were collected, no one dared to leave. Until Schiller stapled all the papers, checked the copies, checked the names, and left the classroom with a pile of test papers, the classroom was like a bomb that suddenly exploded, " "Boom" exploded.
"Oops! I can't do most of the fill-in-the-blank questions. Now I'm doomed!"
"Damn it, I worked hard to memorize the definition of psychology last night! But I didn't take the test?? If I had known better, I shouldn't have wasted so much time in front of me!"
"I wrote the answer to the second essay question on the fourth question. Oh my god, what can I do? I will definitely not get a single point for the essay question!"
"Which of you has written a graduate application? Evans, have you written it? Yesterday, my father told me that if my brain can go to graduate school, I might as well hope that our dog can climb trees! But my dog is a Corgi..."
"I still owe two papers that have not been submitted. I must complete them before the holiday. Otherwise, I will be very nervous during the holiday and will not have fun..."
Several people gathered in front of Bruce's table. They were the first club members invited by Bruce. Reni, the graffiti boy wearing a fluorescent yellow forehead protector, said: "The professor will like my paintings. I can see that he is a talented person." Artistically cultivated people.”
"But he'd probably prefer to see your correct answer," Bruce said.
"Come on, I know nothing. Reciting will pollute my brain." Reni touched his nose. He was a typical Germanic race, with green eyes and a little freckles, and wore reggae-style clothes.
"And who says that's not the correct answer? Who says you have to write to answer a question? The same goes for drawing. I'll pass!"
"Okay, I'll pay you to draw a poster for me. It should be bigger and more impactful to promote this association. The price is whatever you want, but I hope it must be shocking enough." Bruce said.
Lenny snapped his fingers and said: "Rich man, you have found the right person! There is no one in Gotham who knows how to shock people better than me!"
Several people put their heads together and muttered.
"What? You mean you want to..."
"You are such a genius..."
"Add me one, I want to come too!"
"This is a big surprise...yes, I'm sure it will work..."
"Maybe for the sake of this, he will give us a passing grade..."
A few days later, Schiller was grading papers and accumulating anger bars. Although he had already expected the level of these unskilled students at Gotham University, he still didn't expect that they would be able to do this well in the exam.
Not wanting to continue to pollute his brain with these academic garbage, Schiller planned to work overtime today, grade all the papers in one go, and then give most of them a failing grade.
Suddenly, he heard a high-pitched chirp coming from outside the window of his office building, a bit like a fire siren, but shorter and sharper than that.
Schiller stood up, looked out the window, and found that some lights were shaking. It was just dark now, far from the time when the street lights turned on, and most of the teachers and students hadn't left the school yet.
He heard a commotion downstairs, as if someone was calling his last name. Schiller put down his pen, left his desk, and walked to the window.
The entire side of the building opposite was wrapped in a huge curtain. Schiller had heard someone say before that it was undergoing wall renovation. He didn't often walk that way, so he didn't pay much attention.
But as soon as he walked to the window, the curtain on the opposite wall instantly fell down. There seemed to be a huge graffiti on it, as high as 7 floors. A row of spotlights suddenly lit up, covering the entire building. The side light is as bright as day.
It was indeed a huge graffiti. The bottom was Schiller's back, and the top was a black sun filled with countless strange patterns. The sun was surrounded by several circles of flames composed of golden patterns. Schiller's figure stood on the black sun. the front.
Schiller's figure is almost blended into the background of the black sun, or this huge sun is like his shadow.
Schiller stood in front of the window. His eyes were first dazzled by the high-power spotlight. As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw such a picture.
Schiller: "..."
Symbiote: "...Wow."
The whole side of the graffiti reads: "Join the psychology club, face the human heart, face the black sun. - Blue Ghost Renee"
When Schiller lowered his head, he saw a group of people standing at the bottom of the building waving to him excitedly. They were most of the psychology students at Gotham University, including Bruce Wayne.
Schiller raised his head again and looked at the black sun composed of countless strange patterns. It was full of a bizarre and terrifying aesthetic that made people unable to move their eyes away from it, as if their souls were being sucked in by it.
Horrible, weird, bizarre, absurd, but also full of beauty that makes people unable to extricate themselves from it.
Schiller recalled that "Gotham" originally meant "Fool's Village", and it was indeed full of all kinds of ridiculous fools who had no idea where they were born and where they were going to die.
But at the same time, this place is full of all kinds of geniuses. They have unparalleled talents and a fascinating vitality.
Schiller was indeed a little obsessed. This bold and weird absurd action was full of special vitality that could not be found anywhere in the world. It was like a terrifying vine climbing up from the bottomless abyss, and like a top work of art that could rival countless masters.
Schiller knew more than these students, but he just realized that he had not learned one thing yet-
It is true that he has not learned Gotham yet.
Everyone living here is crazy, but at the same time sane.
This dark city does not need anyone to correct it. They live so crazily in the abyss, living out a twisted and weird vitality.
This kind of vitality grows out of the darkness, and the people here use madness as a blade to point directly to anyone's heart so accurately.
Schiller stared straight at the black sun. He thought, maybe, the people here are all unparalleled geniuses, and the only fool is himself, everyone who tries to be a savior outside the comics.
The people here use their brains without any theoretical knowledge of psychology to read their professors as if they were mind readers.
The black sun is also the sun, which is a most accurate profile of Schiller.
What Schiller incarnates is indeed not a scorching sun, but a sun that does not shine or heat, a black sun.
After a few minutes, Schiller wrote a line of words on the foggy glass with his finger - "You passed."
In an instant, violent cheers erupted from downstairs. Under the black sun, it was like the people under the light of this star that would never shine were reveling in the celebration of new life.
