"I don't know how to describe it," Christopher's tone became low, and he slightly bowed his head, his thick lips tightly pursed, evidently turmoil raging within him.
"The conflicts between us aren't as simple as a few aggressive lyrics in a song," Christopher finally admitted, saying, "We want to look forward to a better future, but Tupac is always focused on the past—the suffering, the violence, the injustice. I know they're real, but we have to solve these problems."
"Dad always told me that if we want to win, we have to stand on higher ground, and for that, we can use whatever means. Now I've got it—I'm sought after and in the limelight."
"I feel like I'm getting closer to making some changes, but he calls me a traitor. Don't you think it should be the other way around?"
Christopher's voice was laden with deep confusion as he said, "Doctor, you might think all black rappers must be from the streets, up to no good since childhood, either dealing drugs or robbing shops and pedestrians."
"I admit that was me. My mom couldn't afford to take care of both of us, so I became a drug dealer in the neighborhood at a young age, which earned me my first pot of gold. I also got punished for it, spent a long time behind bars."
"I'm not proud of it, but I have to say, without that money, I wouldn't have been able to consider rapping. Society has taken so much from us; we're just finding our way to take something back."
"Tupac is different, though he might have some unspeakable pasts, he was mostly led astray by some of the bad influences in the neighborhood."
"His family's condition wasn't great, but at least it supported him going to art school. Can you imagine? He studied classical music, learned to dance, even performed at concerts in Baltimore. He's not your traditional Black man, at least not the same kind as me."
"He has something I envy deeply. He could easily fit into high society, he could've seized power, then changed all this—even if not much, at least he could've helped some people, without having to crawl up from the bottom like I did."
"But now that I've climbed up, he should understand me more. Now I have a voice, I have fame, I can speak for many, I can change their lives. That's precisely what I want to do in my next album."
"I'm going to hit the nail on the head, I want the world to understand what they've done to us. This is why I've worked so hard to get to where I am today, but he only sees my compromise with the wave of pop music. He thinks I've given up my voice just to make money."
"I confess my previous album wasn't as powerful in its wording. I listened to dad and started focusing more on melodies, adding some pop elements. But that's just a means to an end."
"What right does he have to demand I tell the truth from start to finish, just like him? What capital do I have to not compromise commercially at all, to only chant my own mantra?"
"I thought he could understand me, but the truth is he just doesn't get it. Us black folks from the bottom don't have that many choices; first, we need to make money. Without money, we are nothing."
"He doesn't understand that we're worlds apart from the starting point. How much effort I had to put in just to get to his starting line. He accuses me of running the wrong way for no reason and is also stuck in place himself, unwilling to move higher, something he could easily reach."
"He misunderstood me shallowly before my time came, and I must say, I am very disappointed. I've felt quite hurt for a long time."
"But what perplexes me even more is his approach. His views on our plight are too pessimistic, to the point where he feels he must sink among us, must endlessly denounce suffering and violence like a true black from the lower strata, to be of any help to us."
"But in reality, this is our world, these are our rules. The people at the bottom have their own way of living; we don't need his pity, we just need him to do something more efficient, but he hasn't done so."
"He's indulged in pessimistic sympathy, like a philosopher and The Thinker. I don't understand what made him this way; all I can say is his decision to board this ship was a huge mistake. This isn't the way we solve our problems, nor will it solve the world's problems."
Christopher practically gulped down all the wine in his glass, and realizing he had been somewhat starstruck, he wiped his mouth and gave a big grin, saying, "Sorry, Doctor, just pretend I haven't seen much of the world, the champagne here really is quite good."
Shiller revealed a slight smile and said, "The issues you're talking about are universally present. Maybe you haven't considered that a world-famous billionaire has done the same."
Immediately interested, Christopher asked, "Who?"
"Bruce Wayne."
"Wow."
Shiller shifted his gaze and said, "I think you have heard about the huge changes in Gotham, and how they're inseparable from this world's richest man, but actually, he too has been on the wrong path."
"Of course, he knew about the miserable lives of the bottom dwellers in Gotham, and his first solution was to become one of them."
"Oh, my God." Christopher laughed, raising his hand, "You better not tell me he plummeted from the rooftop and then said this is what they call the life of the underclass. Please, we're not born out of stone crevices."
"Later, he realized that and chose another path, and that's how you have what you call New Gotham."
"Many people believe that to improve the lives of the underclass, you must join them, living like a real poor person, to see what ways the poor have to change the world."
"But in fact, different people occupy different positions in this world, and anyone who rashly invades the territory of others will meet with direct resistance—as sudden an ascent as a descent can be the same."
"Those stunned by the blow often misjudge, exaggerating the hardship of the underclass's life. This has its benefits, as it fuels their motivation to change the situation, but the drawbacks too. After all, humans are emotional animals, and just the thought of the world being in such a terrible state can make anyone feel pain and despair."
"We cannot say they aren't resilient, for it is through their own experiences and clear recognition that they realize the world is filled with despair."
"It's an empathy explosion that can virtually resonate with the anguish of the underclass worldwide, each organ in the body magnifying these emotions, leading to feelings of loss, depression, and despair, until breakdown."
"Those who survive are heroes, but even heroes, hard as they may try to avoid it, need to go through this period. But don't forget, this path is already fraught with obstacles, with countless eyes full of malice watching every step."
"When they fall into depressive states, they inevitably become as any ordinary person might, their thinking slows, their reactions dull, providing an opening for the lurking beasts to take advantage."
"They seize upon every weakness shown by the heroes, throwing themselves at them, biting off every bit of flesh, causing excessive blood loss, leaving the heroes too weak to reach the end."
"Those heroes who make history have survived all this, but how many are there in the whole world? It is evident that countless people have fallen on this road."
"Some of those from better backgrounds, who had to learn through acquired experience to understand the suffering of the underclass, often have more sensitive empathetic faculties than the ordinary masses drained by life, making them more susceptible to being overwhelmed by these emotions."
Christopher's grip on his glass tightened, he said, "Do you think Tupac is falling into this kind of mood?"
"I cannot be sure, for I haven't met him, but I need to tell you, it is often such people, when they pull through such tribulations, burst forth with more motivation than anyone else, and can achieve more than anyone else. The more suffering they empathize with, the more selflessly they act—many heroes have proven this point."
"Besides truly understanding the suffering of the underclass, they possess the perspective of the upper classes, not limited by social class, having a more comprehensive ability and a vision more in line with the times, this gives them a greater chance than others to create their own great achievements."
Christopher took a deep breath, straightened his back, the buzz from the alcohol gradually dissipated from his brain, replaced by an exhilaration of rapid thought.
"I need to talk to him," Christopher nodded, "No matter what, I want to know what he really thinks."
As Christopher moved to leave the room, he was stopped by a security guard at the door, prompting everyone in the room to turn around.
The bright lights of the cruise ship spilled over the pier's walkway, turning the pitch-black road a silvery white, then the sea waves shattered it into specks of light, in the moment the searchlight swept by, people on the side of the big ship saw the mysterious name—"Dakotazo."
"All aboard!"
With a shout from the distance, Shiller, standing by the 2nd-floor waiting room window, saw the guests on the 1st floor swarm towards the gangway and, led by the ushers, step onto the ship's deck and then into the cabin on the first level.
Among the many guests, Shiller recognized several familiar figures. He touched the glass to his lips and smiled; the night was destined to be a lively sleepless one.
"Doctor, what's got you so cheerful?"
A familiar voice came from behind Shiller. He turned to see Bruce and sighed, "If I didn't come to you first, you should have known better than to approach me. I believe that's basic courtesy among adults."
"I don't see it that way." Bruce pulled out his invitation, moving the finger holding it slowly over the name of the challenger, his gaze seemingly asking for an explanation from Shiller.
Shiller saw a name written in cursive English on it—"Rhomann Sionis."