The two remained deadlocked in the air, dawdling until it was almost time to sleep. Although the darkness didn't affect either of them, the commotion they caused could impact the villagers' sleep, so Clark decided to step back and resolve to deal with it in the morning.
Magneto snorted coldly and strode back to his room, ignoring Clark completely. What he didn't expect was that "morning" for Clark didn't mean the next day but 3:30 a.m., when Clark woke him up.
Shiller also arrived at the edge of the field. Since it was almost his wake-up time anyway, he yawned, planning to find something to eat after daybreak.
The dew was heavy and the newly awakened Magneto felt drowsy, but he gathered his energy to start loosening the soil and then tilling the land. However, after much toil, it was the same vicious cycle.
Without a point of reference, it was easy for him to till deeper and deeper, then having to flatten and restart tilling. But when flattening the soil, it would often become too compacted, necessitating another round of loosening and tilling.
For the average worker, this wasn't particularly hard labor. Even those who had never farmed could figure it out after a couple of tries.
But Magneto was someone who hadn't done physical labor himself in decades. To be precise, the labor he did involved destruction and was of the hit-and-run variety, never engaging in sustained repetitive work, which made him particularly impatient and prone to distraction.
After a half a day's work, the two of them had only managed to till five or six acres of land. Honestly speaking, using two tractors would have sufficed.
Clark was out of options. He landed on the ground and said to Shiller, "Doctor, maybe you should take a look at his psychological issues first. I think he might have ADHD."
Shiller wanted to suggest that he turn around and check Magneto's face, which looked as though he could devour someone.
Magneto did have an illness. Shiller's preliminary guess was that he might show symptoms of Asperger's syndrome, but it was also hard to say whether this was congenital or the result of trauma from some later experiences.
In the past, this disorder hadn't caused much trouble for him since the vast majority of people had to cater to his mood. At most, he wasn't good at socializing, but given his strength, people generally wouldn't mind his sullen face.
But now, since he needed help, his issues were becoming more apparent. Shiller had observed the entire process and noticed that Magneto did indeed exhibit some stereotyped behaviors.
Shiller was all too familiar with such behavior. For a long time, he couldn't escape this vicious cycle, resembling someone who, due to excessive detachment from society, engaged in repetitive actions to gain a sense of security. But the more he engaged in these repetitive actions, the stranger people thought he was, which only increased his detachment from society, forming a vicious circle.
Clark instructed Magneto what to do, and although Magneto did it, he couldn't do it well due to lack of experience. He was unwilling to admit that this was a problem with his abilities. However, his way of proving himself didn't involve getting better but rather started to involve disengagement as a means of avoidance.
This was why he couldn't master such a simple process after repeated attempts and often became distracted. He didn't want to do this task in the first place, and his method of avoidance was the wandering mind often seen in individuals with Asperger's.
This had become a habit for Magneto, one that he wasn't even slightly aware of, not even realizing his lack of concentration.
Otherwise, for such a trivial matter, with Clark practically teaching him hand by hand, how could it be possible that he still couldn't learn? It wasn't a matter of ability; it was a psychological issue, Shiller thought.
But correcting this was extremely difficult. Magneto had never undergone any psychological intervention in his life, and the condition had become a part of his personality; change was almost impossible.
"But there's not entirely no way to improve the current situation," Shiller said. "Write down the data for him."
"Data? What data?"
"Didn't you say he always tills the land too deeply?"
"Yeah, he's practically creating an East African Rift on the ground," Clark complained exaggeratedly. "You can't bury the seeds that deep, or the air won't get through, and they'll definitely rot."
"So how deep should the plowing be to meet the standard?"
"Well, about that deep. I just go by feel; I've never measured. It was taught to me by the farmers in Mexico. For corn, it needs to be plowed to that depth."
At that moment, Magneto also flew down, quietly standing behind Clark. Shiller glanced at his expression and then said, "Don't forget, Clark, although we do need this batch of grain, we need the farming experience even more."
"Erik is the only one learning right now. If your teaching is so vague, how is he supposed to teach a large group of students later on?"
"Back in Mexico, it was indeed just you and a few farmers teaching you one by one, which was effortless. But if mutants are to start agricultural training classes in the future, there will be more students. Without specific data, how can we rely solely on oral and hands-on teaching from the teachers?"
Clark became reflective. One of Superman's greatest strengths was that he was very open to advice, sometimes maybe a bit too much so.
Clark paused for a moment, then flew into the middle of the air where his eyes shot out two laser beams, and two perfectly straight ridges appeared instantly in the field.
Then Clark flew to the warehouse to retrieve a tape measure, began to gauge the depth of the furrow and the height of the ridges, and also jotted down these measurements on paper.
He handed the paper to Shiller, who looked at the data—it was clear, with the depth, height, and width all marked to two decimal places. Shiller then stuffed the paper into Magneto's chest.
"Just follow this, Erik. You should be able to do it with pinpoint accuracy, right?"
Magneto glanced at the ridges that Clark had made, then at the data on the paper, and snorted coldly before taking flight again.
In an instant, countless particles of sand and soil rose up into the sky along the horizon. All of the dirt from the vast expanse of land flew up into the air.
Each particle was illuminated by the moonlight, clearly visible, like a dim rust-colored canopy that nearly obscured all light.
With a swish, all the soil fell, and countless neat and orderly ridges appeared on the land.
Clark leaned in to take a look, everything was exactly like what he had just plowed, and Shiller saw even more details—for the height, depth, and width were not the only similarities, even every single grain of soil was the same.
Magneto had transformed all the soil into the same state of the two ridges Clark had made, arranging and combining them in a perfectly identical structure, identical inside out, a complete copy and paste.
Then, flying higher, Magneto made all the sandy soil from the lands he could see rise up, an anomaly that prompted villagers to light their lamps and watch the spectacle of the land above in shock.
The soil fell like rain once more, countless tidy and straight ridges appeared in the fields. In an instant, this long-fallow land was like nature's soft hair, gently combed by a lover.
When Magneto landed, his face showed signs of fatigue. He had been woken up during deep sleep, and the calculations required to change so many soil molecules were beyond imagination. At this moment, his brain was filled with echoes.
"Erik... Erik..."
Magneto heard a familiar, gentle voice echoing in his ear, but unprecedentedly, he did not respond. His mind was still wandering among that string of data, estimating how much land he could cultivate based on the area of three planets in the Andromeda Galaxy he had previously calculated.
The lights in Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters suddenly came on, and soon after, many anxious thoughts were sent out, receiving many surprised replies.
It was still dark in Mexico, the land too moist for sowing seeds. Seeing Magneto's poor condition, Shiller decided to go back to sleep for a while and wait for dawn.
Clark hadn't expected things to go so quickly. He said, "Had I known this would work, I wouldn't have gotten up so early. I thought it would take at least a few hours."
"Go back to sleep, and I'll make breakfast when you wake up."
A few hours later, the sky gradually brightened, the moisture in the soil quickly evaporated, making the early morning even damper.
Shiller got up and called Clark out of bed. He was still half-asleep, so Shiller went upstairs to call Magneto. When he awoke, his complexion was somewhat flushed, and his eyes were slightly scattered.
Shiller immediately touched his forehead—great, a fever. It had to be said that the old man was quite resilient, truly deserving of last season's heaven-reaching achievements.
Magneto waved his hand and said, "I'm fine, where are the seeds?"
"You have a fever. Good thing I brought fever medicine. I'll go get you a cup of warm water. Take the medicine and lie down for a bit."
"I said I'm fine. Where's Clark?"
"He's not up yet. Young people tend to sleep in, it's quite normal. You should rest a bit longer, wait for him."
Magneto hummed again, muttered a few words, but thankfully lay back down. After Shiller gave him water and medicine, he turned over, muttering in his sleep.
Clark soon showed up, and Shiller gestured to him to keep quiet. After they stepped out and closed the door, Clark displayed a very apparent sense of guilt.
"I forgot about his age, it's really my fault. What should we do now? Do you have medicine? Should I go to the nearby town to buy some?"
"He's already taken fever medicine, it's nothing serious. Theoretically, he shouldn't be getting sick. It might be due to bad mental condition. He didn't remember that."
Clark nodded and said, "Maybe I can take this chance to finish a part of the work, measure the data, and wait for him to recover before proceeding."
Just as the two of them stepped out of the room, Shiller was organizing the food on the table when a figure appeared at the door, evidently not a villager.
"Lorna, what are you doing here?" Shiller asked with some confusion, "Weren't you helping out in the Andromeda Galaxy?"
"I came back to Earth before, but I've been staying with the Professor," Polaris said. "This is…"
"Hello, I'm Clark, I always remember your green hair, it left quite an impression on me."
"Yes, we've met before at a concert. I was being harassed during the show, and you helped me out," Polaris said.
"That wasn't much of a rescue, miss. You pressed him to the ground, nearly breaking his ribs. I just reminded you that causing trouble wouldn't let the concert go on."
"Thanks for the kind warning," Polaris replied with an eye roll. "Unfortunately, the concert still didn't finish."
"Indeed, because your sister pinned another down, and she broke his ribs."
"How come you're here?" Shiller asked. "How did you find this place? Did Professor send you?"
Polaris's face revealed a rare hesitation, she said, "The Professor said Magneto was not in good shape, what's wrong with him?"
"It's just a little fever, nothing serious."
"A fever?! Another voice came from the doorway, and Shiller turned to see the Scarlet Witch, Wanda, standing there, her belly noticeably pregnant.