Back in his office, Shiller began to review the freshly delivered file of Charles, of course, it was transferred from his original universe.
Many people think America has no Identity System, that an identity card is just a driver's license, but in reality, that only applies to the ordinary people at the bottom. Those who have received elite education place tremendous importance on their educational records, such as degrees, academic achievements, outstanding performance, and letters of recommendation, which are all included in the educational files, serving as a sort of passport to high society.
Before applying for a particular mentor, educational records need to be submitted for selection, and only after being chosen can one become the student of that mentor. The 12 interns Shiller had selected previously were very likely to become the backbone of the field of psychology in the future.
But Charles got on the train before buying a ticket. Shiller knew he had psychic ability, so the educational record was not really an issue, however, he still requested the file to be sent over; after all, there were 11 other senior students ahead of him, and as the youngest, if his resume fell short, it could easily cause discontent among the other interns.
Opening the thick file, Shiller got a shock—my goodness, graduating from Harvard at the age of 16 was the least impressive part of his resume. Charles's earliest published journal article was at age 11, and it was in a core area, mainly researching the relationship between psychology and neuroscience.
As is well known, neuroscience is still mainly a "pie in the sky" field for the human race; most arguments are based on certain experiments, with hardly any universally applicable theories that link all the disciplines of mental science.
The academic schools are complex too, each theory asserting its own claim, publishing a journal article seems like entering a debate—except when they unanimously stand against the teachings of religious studies and theology on Soul Theory, other times they are fighting amongst themselves.
However, Charles in uniting the disciplines of psychology, mental science, neurology, and neuroscience and formulating a unified system and theory for them, was simply a leader in 21st-century academia. Although the few monographs he had published did not delve deep into the subject, they already showed such a trend.
As Shiller read, he shifted from reviewing the file to climbing the ladder through the Doujie System to check Charles's papers on the other universe's internet. He frowned at times, smiled at others, looked complex at moments, and contemplative at others.
"PhD... PhD, Doctor, are you listening?"
"Uh, what was that again?"
Charles said helplessly, "Just now a senior called to say that the manuscript fee for the article he published last time has arrived. It's still in the mailbox under the hospital, uncollected. He wants to give it to you for our next gathering's funds."
"I'm not short on that bit of money," Shiller said, focused on the screen, "Go down to the mailbox and pick it up for him. Hold onto it until he comes back from his trip."
Charles nodded, seeing that Shiller was not too keen on interacting with him, he didn't insist on staying in the office but turned to attend to other matters.
Actually, he wanted to go downstairs to check on that lady again because he could feel that her condition was really not good.
At this period, Charles might have been arrogant, but at heart, he was a good person. He felt that it was one thing not to know, but now that he did, he should be more concerned; otherwise, if something happened, it would be too late for regrets.
The Elder Council Hospital was very large, also because of the once prominent movement that made the psychiatric department independent from the others, the entire department was allocated a separate building, some distance away from the gynecology and obstetrics ward, and it was getting late now.
Charles decided that on his way to dinner, he would pass by the earlier ward to check and make sure everything was alright. Then he would eat in the cafeteria next door and, after dinner, collect the money from the mailbox up front.
Upon reaching the corridor of the wards, Charles heard that husband named Aux on the phone, seemingly helping his client solve some electrical problem.
Charles tiptoed by from the other side, peeked through the observation window, and saw that the lady was standing in front of the window, staring blankly outside.
Of course, given that the wards were on the second floor and the windows were firmly locked, there was no danger of jumping. New medications had arrived, placed on the table; the moonlight streaming in cast long shadows, with the shape of the bottle appearing more robust than her slender figure.
Charles heard a deep sadness echoing inside her, resonating again and again, resisting but unable to disappear, like a music disc that has lost total control.
Charles knew this was a manifestation of anxiety disorder: uncontrollable repetitive plays of a scene in the mind, with all other thoughts fleeting by, followed by that same scene, impossible to forget, which could lead to severe insomnia.
To Charles, the human brain was not so mysterious; it was a machine that could be fully deciphered. He saw that a part of the lady's brain was broken, the uncontrollable twitching nerves continuously tormenting her.
The ones controlling these nerves weren't physiological changes, but the painful memories were too much to bear, filling Charles with a profound empathy and an unbearable weight.
He clenched his fist, took a deep breath, but just then, the motion lights came on, and by the sound of the footsteps, Aux was coming back. Charles fled in a panic.
All the way to the cafeteria, Charles pondered. He began to recall those segments playing in Lisa's mind, the intermingling of her envisioned happy life and painful memories, which was the most heartbreaking.
Charles soon arrived at the cafeteria, where many people believe that there are no cafeterias abroad, but in fact, it is quite the opposite. Many foreign cafeterias resemble the domestic ones even more, embodying the essence of grabbing a quick, simple meal. In short, they're meant for satisfying hunger.
There weren't many options to choose from, and having more wouldn't have been of much use. Contrary to what many imagine, hospitals abroad are busy, not due to a higher number of patients, but because most medical centers integrate teaching with healthcare.
Take the Elders Council Hospital as an example. In reality, few people refer to it by that name; more often, they mention its affiliated hospitals, Columbia University Medical Center and Weill Cornell Medical Center. These serve both as the medical schools for their respective universities and as hospitals. They are both part of the Elders Council Hospital and both provide comprehensive medical services.
Here, doctors not only perform surgeries and treat patients, but they also spend a lot of time conducting research and teaching students. Students not only do internships but also attend classes, with two major seminars a week, one lecture by a distinguished teacher, and almost daily group meetings. The rest of the time is spent on rote learning and practical work, rote learning and practical work.
This system effectively weeds out those who are not very good at rote learning or practical work. The former are more suited for hospital work, while the latter are more suited to stay in medical centers to conduct research. This screening process often takes place within these medical centers.
They can freely choose their own teaching physicians, and if they find that their direction is not suitable, they can switch to another. After finding the right teaching physician, they are very likely to join the department where the teaching physician works, becoming a leading surgeon or a researcher.
Due to the extremely low pass rates at Columbia University Medical School, even at 9 p.m., Charles could still see many students in the cafeteria glancing at their tablets while shovelling food into their mouths.
Charles didn't even need to use his mind-reading ability to know that their heads were full of theoretical knowledge. Turning on the Mind Reading Technique was like taking a swim in a sea of knowledge.
Charles casually ordered a sandwich, eating while thinking about the lady from earlier today. At that moment, a young man approached and sat down opposite him, saying, "Hello, is this seat taken?"
Charles shook his head, looked up at him, and saw a very average-looking young man with black hair and a slightly gaunt appearance, but with a pair of beautiful blue eyes. Then, he scanned the room and realized that indeed, there weren't many seats left—the young man sharing a table was understandable.
He saw a burger and a plate of boiled greens on the young man's tray—the burger's cheese was nearly spilling out, while the boiled greens seemed rather bland. There were two drinks, one soda and one orange juice, the latter clearly the freshly squeezed, sugar-free kind.
Charles thought it strange: How contradictory for someone who orders a triple cheeseburger to also get a serving of boiled greens for the dietary vitamins. He also couldn't imagine someone who drinks soda would enjoy the bitter orange juice with the rind included.
After the young man sat down, he stayed silent, biting into his burger and eating his greens with drooping eyebrows, looking rather unenergetic.
"Feeling alright?" Charles could distinctly feel that the young man's brainwaves were much weaker than those of an average person.
Normally, Charles wouldn't use his psychic abilities on someone he had just met; he wasn't a voyeur, and besides, most people's minds were rather dull, with nothing worth seeing. Unless he needed to know, he wouldn't waste his ability.
"I'm fine, I just transferred here," the young man sighed. "My name is David. What's yours?"
"Just call me Charlie. You look a bit tired, did you stay up late studying last night?"
"Don't even mention it," David opened up immediately. "I don't know why people here study so late. Back in Paris, I never studied until 3:00 a.m., but those people in the library just won't leave. They're practically killing me with their studying."
Charles burst into laughter. "There's so much misunderstanding about college life in America. Everyone thinks we're playing basketball, throwing parties, and if we're not chasing girls, we're at the bars, and then somehow these slackers transform into elite professionals overnight."
"Isn't that how it is?"
"Of course not. Slackers always exist, but most can't graduate. They go back to find simple jobs to make ends meet. The elites are made through study. The human brain is structured in such a way that any form of learning is inevitably dry and hard, and no one is an exception."
"But you need to take it easy," Charlie warned David, looking at his pale complexion. "Our hospital just carried someone out two days ago, died from overwork. It's a pity for his mentor; the guy had just 20 more hours of internship left before graduation. I have no idea what he was in such a hurry for."
David immediately shivered, a troubled expression on his face. "Not to lie to you, it's not like I wanted to come here. I was just planning to casually get a master's degree and be done with it, but a relative of mine... my relative insisted that I have a talent for this field and was adamant about getting me in. It's killing me," he confessed.
Charles paused for a moment, sensing that something was off. It wasn't that there were no nepotism cases at the Elders Council Hospital, but this one, who seemed like he got in through connections, was actually studying. Although he complained of fatigue, he seemed to be keeping up.
If he were simply unable to learn or just wanted to skate by, he wouldn't have exhausted himself to this extent.
The threshold for studying medicine in English-speaking countries is very high. Those with no foundation whatsoever, not recognizing or even knowing how to pronounce the specialized terminology, couldn't even consider memorizing it. Everything would seem like gibberish to them; they wouldn't know where to start, nor would they find themselves tired from the effort.
The moment Charles unconsciously activated his mind-reading ability, he was struck dumb, as a psy-storm erupted, blowing papers out of the hands of a nearby student.