The atmosphere in the Stark Building office was very serious.
Obadiah sat at the head of the table, his expression hesitant, while Howard sat opposite him, also seemingly holding back his words.
Stark and Pepper sat to his left and right respectively, facing each other, their expressions equally complex.
But unsurprisingly, all eyes were on Stark. The atmosphere had been stagnant for a long time when Obadiah finally spoke, "Tony, I fully understand your concerns, but I'm afraid your current state is very unsuitable for participating in corporate management. You cannot withdraw your project proposal for the nineteenth time. The shareholders' patience is limited."
Pepper was even more direct. She stared at Stark's face and said, "Tony Stark, I'm telling you for the last time, all of your personal doctors and Dr. Rodriguez agree that your anxiety disorder has relapsed, and you need to rest now."
Howard cleared his throat and said, "Tony, it's no use always staying in the lab. Continuing to avoid things will only make it worse. Look, the conflict you had with Pepper could have been completely avoided."
"So what do you want me to do? Waste my time lying in a hospital?" Stark raised his voice, "I lived just fine without any of you!"
Pepper knew very well how hurtful those words were, especially to Howard, so she immediately interrupted Stark, "Don't say that, Tony. We don't want to leave you with a mess that you can't fix when you come to your senses. This kind of indulgence is harmful to you."
"I don't understand why you have to manage me!" Stark was almost roaring, "I'm just like always, doing experiments in the lab properly, and you have to say I'm sick!"
"You've never withdrawn a project proposal over a dozen times before," Obadiah sighed lightly, "You're putting too much pressure on yourself."
"That's because some details were not perfected..."
"There are no details that can be perfectly perfected," Howard said. "What you should seek is balance, not perfection."
"I don't need you to instruct me!"
Pepper quickly interrupted their father-son exchange and said, "Tony, the Solar System development plan is putting too much pressure on you. I know you don't want to miss this important moment for humanity, but if you continue like this, you'll regret it."
"We're here today to avoid that kind of situation," Obadiah said. "You need rest and relaxation, time to adjust your mental state, not to keep pushing yourself..."
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Everyone frowned—they had made it clear that they didn't want to be disturbed, but when the figure appeared at the door, they all relaxed.
Shiller walked in.
Shiller paused at the serious atmosphere in the room, sized up the situation, and then said, "Uh, I have something to discuss with Tony, but it's okay, you continue. I'll come back later."
"You've arrived at a good time, Doctor. We know you've been busy recently and we've been hesitant to bother you," Pepper immediately stood up to welcome Shiller inside and said, "We are currently discussing Tony's mental issues."
"I don't have any mental problems!"
"Think again," Shiller said.
Stark rolled his eyes in frustration.
Shiller took the seat Pepper had been in, which faced Stark. Just as Stark was about to speak, Shiller started, "I've been too busy recently to monitor your condition. Haven't you missed two counseling sessions?"
"Yeah, some people are so busy they'd probably do two counseling sessions a day for the other Starks if they could," replied Stark, his attention diverted. "Where did those two guys go? Are they still following you around?"
"They've gone back home. I sent them," Shiller said, rubbing his temples. "After all, the world doesn't need that many super-geniuses. The original one is better."
Stark was placated by the subtle flattery but quickly snorted, "You'd better quickly tell them I'm not sick. My anxiety disorder was cured long ago, and the recovery notification was issued by you."
"Yes, but according to your recent behavior, your mental health does seem to have some issues."
Stark opened his mouth to retort, but Shiller interrupted him, looking into his eyes, "In your mind, you've created a perfect image of yourself, 'perfect' by current historical standards. In short, the greatest scientist of all time."
"For a while, you revered famous scientists from history, but soon you wanted to surpass them. For a long time, you were troubled because you believed you might never be their equal, because you're from a different era; you would never be a pioneer.
"You detested the thought that you might be considered someone who stood on the shoulders of giants. It wasn't what you wanted; you didn't want to sunbathe on calm seas, you wanted to brave the rapids."
"During that period, you knew you didn't have the opportunity because you were born too late. Humanity was like a dead pool of still water, and the path of scientific research had entered the epoch of the Exhaustion Method. Your brilliant ideas were more like icing on the cake rather than a lifeline in the snow."
"How could you be content? You wanted to be an unparalleled founder, not some transitional figure bridging past and future."
"Now the opportunity has arrived, human technology is undergoing another massive explosion, and you are right at the core of the explosion, the eye of the storm. You finally have the chance to realize your long-held ambition. You want to do it best, and even better."
"Since you have the chance to make a bold mark on history, you have made it your mission to make future historians' wrists ache from writing about you. Just a little more work, and then a little more, and one more person might be saved, and humanity's infant just out of the cradle may walk steadier and faster."
"You've started insanely overdrawing on your energy, making your brain run at an unhealthy speed, all to squeeze out potential ideas for the future. You think to yourself, 'These are ideas I would come up with sooner or later, so why not now? Isn't doing ten minutes' worth of work in one minute the same as doing one minute's work in ten future minutes?'"
"But reason tells you that this is not sustainable. Your body is sending you danger signals from all over. You understand that exploration and surpassing limits are boundless pursuits, like an endless sea. No matter how fast you rush, you can never see the shore."
"Wandering and struggling in an endless sea is a typical sensation of anxiety."
Shiller paused for a moment before continuing, "Unlike what many people imagine, the root of depression lies in hopelessness. Whether there is a ship coming or not, they feel that it will never arrive and thus let go, sinking with joy as they embrace death."
"The root of anxiety, on the other hand, is in hope. They realize that the ship might not come, yet they still endure the suffocating pain at the edge of drowning for that sliver of hope, clutching their only driftwood and never letting go."
"That's why I always say you're the most typical anxiety sufferer," Shiller said, looking at Stark. "Immersing yourself in the lab for scientific research, that's your piece of driftwood. You think as long as you keep going, there will be a day of relief, there will be."
"But the seawater fluctuates above your head. In the midst of midnight, you're too weak to raise your head, only feeling it flood into your mouth and nose, pour into your windpipe, until every air sac in your lungs is filled."
"Asphyxiation clouds your consciousness, the cold makes you shiver, and weakness stiffens your whole body. You want to let go, but in the haze, you see the ship's lights; you want to keep waiting, but what's lighting up is the distant moonlight at the end of the sky."
"Enough!"
It wasn't Stark who spoke up, but Pepper, who slammed the table and stood saying, "You need to leave that damned lab right now, this instant, and go home to sleep."
Just as Stark was about to say something, Pepper roared at him, "If I see you at any corner of the Stark Building again, we're through!! Anthony Stark!!"
Stark, kicked out of the office by a furious Pepper, stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips and said to Shiller, "I got fired, are you happy now?"
"Don't rush, even if you got fired, you still have to pay for this quarter's medical bill."
"Did you have to provoke Pepper like that? Quack!"
"That just proves I am no quack," Shiller retorted as they walked outside. "Only Pepper can handle you, see, it's resolved now, isn't it?"
"Resolved what?!" Stark raised his voice, "She kicked my access out of the Stark Building system; I can't even get into the lab now!"
"You know you could, but you don't want to, because you don't dare bet on how much longer Pepper will tolerate you."
"Turn off your damned Mind Reading Technique!"
"Alright," Shiller said, looking at his watch. "I haven't eaten in the Stark Building cafeteria in a while, let's go."
Stark eyed him warily and said, "Your food supplies haven't run out again, have they? I must tell you, without access I don't get free meal credit anymore; if we want to eat, it's got to come out of pocket."
"Do you have money?"
"I do, but why should I treat you?"
"Because I'm about to introduce you to a big deal," Shiller said with a smile. "Trust me, this meal will definitely be worth the cost."
Stark grimaced, not taking him seriously.
They soon arrived at the cafeteria. Despite the time that passed, the cafeteria hadn't changed much; it was still very technologically advanced and filled with the rich aroma of food.
Although some familiar-looking chefs seemed to see a dinosaur upon spotting Shiller, Shiller's strong psychological quality allowed him to completely ignore these looks, and he found a place to sit down with Stark.
"Good day, gentlemen, what can I get for you?"
"I'll have a burger and a glass of ice water," Stark said with a wave of his hand, clearly not in the mood for eating and intending to make do with a quick meal.
"Give me the salmon tartare, Provençal spinach cream rolls, and this, the poplar cured ham and buffalo milk cheese sandwich, red grilled artichokes, fresh raspberry pie, and the handcrafted spiral traditional pasta..."
"Are you trying to stuff yourself to death?" Stark asked.
"Trust me, it's not much," Shiller handed back the menu to the waitress and added, "Also, a glass of soda water with a bit of blueberry jam, thank you."
As the waitress walked away, Shiller fiddled with his phone, and Stark grew curious, craning his neck to look that way.
The food was served quickly, a full table's worth, and compared to the bounty on Shiller's side, Stark's meal seemed rather poor by contrast, a lonely little burger in the middle of the plate, topped with an American Stars and Stripes flag.