New York's late spring was neither too hot nor too cold; it was the most pleasant time of year, with everything radiating the harmony and beauty of spring.
The morning light, gently caressed by the translucent curtains, turned into shallow patches of light by the time it spilled into the kitchen, accompanied by the soft breeze that fluttered the curtains. The white floor looked like a pond in spring, reflecting light and shadow, serene and profound.
With two beeps, a hand reached out to lift the coffee cup from the machine; the steaming heat dispersed into the cool morning air, along with the droplets of water from a freshly washed face, bringing a refreshing coolness. Shiller took a big gulp of the espresso and let out a long, contented sigh.
The matter in the Himalayan Mountains had reached a temporary conclusion, and the cultivation of magic fungi was a slow business. For now, it was Fungi Man, Pamela, the mages, and the scientific research team keeping an eye on things, so Shiller, with nothing better to do, had returned to New York.
The New York Elderly Association Hospital hoped he would return to work there, but Shiller had already served enough time supervising students there, and after their successful graduation, most stayed on to work, so the hospital was not as short-staffed as before.
Shiller decided to give himself a vacation.
This was a significant decision because Greed was now controlling this body, and putting the words "vacation" and "Greed" together was so absurd it was laughable.
But Shiller decided to take a vacation anyway because he had never taken one before and didn't know how ordinary people went about it. But no matter—hadn't Arrogant also not known how to clean house?
Even though Arrogant had experienced moving, Greed had been fast asleep below, not witnessing firsthand how he struggled with these trivial everyday tasks. But he could imagine and was convinced that he wouldn't be as awkward as Arrogant had been.
Because after all, moving was still work; but vacationing meant doing nothing. Could a person make a mistake by doing nothing? That seemed like the easiest thing in the world.
Of course, Shiller also had no plans to lie inert in his room; that way of vacationing was far too mainstream. After a busy period, most Americans choose to travel, with those who could afford it heading to luxury resorts, and others taking a few days to explore a different city.
Shiller thought he was well off, so he was already looking at various top-tier resorts around the world.
Shiller had initially planned a trip to Hawaii, since it is a famous American tourist destination, but he wasn't seasick and had no particular interest in the ocean. Besides, he wasn't skilled at fishing and had no interest in sunbathing on the beach either, and beyond that, there wasn't much else to do.
Shiller then considered visiting China, as the Sky Train made travel surely simpler now, but only after becoming a foreigner did he realize how troublesome it was to travel to China. The list of visa requirements on the U.S. Embassy's official page left Shiller staring in bewilderment; he felt as if he was almost unable to recognize the Chinese characters.
Moreover, as Shiller understood, China had fully implemented facial payment systems by now, meaning you could just pick up items in a supermarket and go, with dedicated cameras charging your account through facial recognition.
If he wanted to travel there, he would first have to go to a website to register his facial information, open an account, link the two, then visit the U.S. Embassy to submit a document preventing facial model theft, and then lock his face and account separately. After going through the entire process, Shiller felt it was too much hassle.
Subsequently, Shiller began considering domestic travel within America. He was somewhat interested in the western scenery but didn't really know which cities offered a genuine western experience.
Just as Shiller began searching for information online, Ultron's voice rang in his ear, "Doctor, you have mail."
Turning around, Shiller noticed a vacuuming robot sprawled on the ground, but quickly turned back and said, "Okay, I'll check it out right away."
As he opened his email interface, Ultron's voice came from above, "Not your electronic mailbox, Doctor. There's mail for you at the front door."
Shiller looked up to see the security camera flashing a red light at him, even blinking playfully with the light.
Slightly taken aback, Shiller stood up and said, "What age are we in that people still put mail in the mailbox? I almost thought I'd gone to some antique world."
"Who knows," came Ultron's voice from the rice cooker nearby, followed by the refrigerator chiming in, "I was quite startled this morning when the automatic mail delivery robot came by. That thing is so ugly; I really don't know what the designer was thinking."
Shiller pushed the front door open and the electronic doorbell told him, "It's right ahead; I've already opened the mailbox door for you."
When Shiller went to look, sure enough, there was a letter in the mailbox. It turned out that building this mailbox wasn't just for show; someone really had delivered a letter to it.
Taking out the letter, Shiller understood—the cursive script read, "Mr. Stark and Miss Potts cordially invite you to join us—please bless our wedding."
Right on cue, his phone rang. Shiller pressed the communication band on his wrist, and Stark's smug expression appeared unusually clear in the holographic projection.
"Did you get my invitation? What do you think? I told you I could handle everything!"
As Shiller walked back inside with the invitation in hand, he replied, "When you said you handled every aspect of the wedding, did you just mean sending out the invitations?"