"Erik, I think we need to talk." This was the twelfth time Charles had said this today, and his moral code did not allow him to directly look for the answer in Erik's mind, especially when he was not wearing his helmet—it would be tantamount to a declaration of breakup.
But his curiosity, Charles thought, his damn curiosity—it had to be curiosity, and not some kind of short video syndrome—made him desperate for an answer, yet Erik remained as difficult as ever.
Charles had known for a long time that if Erik decided not to talk about something, then no one else could ever expect to find out.
Was his ridiculous helmet really to prevent Charles from prying into his past secrets? Did the two of them have any shared past experiences that were not mutual?
If he had to name that helmet, Charles would call it "Don't bother me," its primary function being to prevent Charles from continuously saying "Erik, I think we need to talk" in his head.
Charles knew it was annoying, but he still couldn't help asking for the thirteenth time, and by the fourteenth time, Erik had put his helmet back on.
It was the same old story; stubborn friends will always only have other stubborn friends, only some are openly stubborn, others are hiddenly so—Charles chose to come into Erik's psychic battlefield.
Don't ask how this differs from a direct psychic invasion, the difference was Charles could choose to come knocking on the door looking young, which generally works wonders.
Erik opened the door nonetheless, seemingly unsurprised by Charles' arrival. The young Professor X flashed him a brilliant smile and asked, "Where's Anya? Has she run off to play again?"
"She was taken away by that raccoon and the yellow rodent; they found a cradle used by an astral species on another planet and took her away," Erik replied.
"That's rare," said Professor X. "The little girl should get out and play more, rather than staying cooped up at home all day."
"If you saw her German homework, you wouldn't think so." Erik walked into the room, and the first thing Charles saw on the table were papers covered with juvenile scribbles that looked more like Maya glyphs than German.
Looking around the environment, Charles said, "Do you miss that era so much that you have to stay in this room?"
While marking homework, Erik replied, "This is where Anya was born; it offers the greatest stability for her spirit."
Charles resisted the urge to look at the homework on the table. He stood up and started to wander around the room. Although he had been here many times before, there were always endless details to discover, and he was fascinated by studying them, always finding snippets of Erik's past that he never knew.
Charles should have gotten straight to the point, but he got somewhat entranced by the traces of life scattered around. When he was young, he had dreamed of being a detective. Unfortunately, he was the person least capable of feeling happy about revealing mysteries in the world.
Charles looked out the window. He remembered there were always a few crows outside. The sky was a bleak gray, and the buildings of Berlin looked different from what he remembered later, the walls casting a definitely desperate shade of gray-white.
Charles was aware that many people's psychic battlefields are different from their memories; the difference is that psychic battlefields are processed by the individual. If a place is their utopia, it will appear more beautiful, while a place that makes them feel fear will become darker and more terrifying.
But this place was different, Charles thought. He found it hard to analyze Erik's feelings for this room. On the surface, it looked gloomy and heavy; even the ash from the fireplace couldn't manage to float upwards with vigor, a concrete representation of psychological intent, suggesting that young Erik's mood was always heavy here.
Yet, at the same time, it was not dark, nor were there omens of fear. On the contrary, it was always peaceful, and the fire in the fireplace danced in a regular pattern.
If Charles had to describe it, it was like a frail boat being swept along by a tumultuous storm throughout the night, right up until dawn. It looked fragile, but you knew it would make it to the sunrise.
Charles approached the stairs, which he had never climbed before; the steep staircase was a significant challenge at a spiritual level for someone who had been lame for decades. Charles wasn't confident he could control his legs, even in the psychic world, and the thought of tumbling down the stairs was quite terrifying.
But today, he decided to go up.
"May I go up?" Charles asked.
Erik did not look up or reply, so Charles attempted to step onto the staircase. He knew Anya's room was upstairs; that was where a woman named Magda gave birth to Erik's eldest daughter.
Thanks to Anya, Charles realized that the slightly low handrail at the edge of the staircase must have been prepared for her. Before the birth, Erik had everything ready, looking forward to the life ahead as a family of three. But unfortunately...
"May I go upstairs and see Mrs. Eisenhart?" Shiller asked. "Her due date should be within this week. I've had a friend bring a manual on delivering babies; I'm confident there won't be any problems, but I want to go up and check on her."
"Of course." Erik's cigarette had burned out, and he opened the window as far as he could to let the smoke out.
Shiller got up and walked to the staircase. Just as he was about to reach for the handrail, he realized it was too low for an adult. He turned back to Erik with a smile and said, "It looks like you're really ready to welcome a little one. But, really? Allowing her to climb the stairs at such a tender age, aren't you worried she might fall?"
"I think it will be her," Erik said with a hint of pride, "My daughter will definitely be strong. She would be going downstairs a week after learning to walk; if not, I'll be there to support her."
Shiller ascended the stairs, while Erik went to the balcony to fetch the dried daisies. Pregnant women can't use strong fragrances, but the old buildings in Berlin always emit a musty smell on rainy days, so they chose to use dried flowers as a natural air freshener.
Soon, Shiller's voice of greeting was heard; they were discussing topics related to prenatal preparations. Erik reached the balcony and just as he reached for the flowers, a discordant noise arose in the magnetic field.
He lowered his eyelids discreetly, twirling the dried daisies in his slender, withered fingers.
Bang!
Jonathan quickly used his arm to shield his face, preventing the sparks from splattering into his eyes. Dino, who was connecting wires to the wall, turned and asked him, "What happened? Did it short-circuit?"
"No, it didn't. You haven't even connected the power yet, so how could it short-circuit? For some reason this thing just suddenly..." Jonathan fiddled with the listening device in his hand and said, "I was adjusting it, and it just exploded and started smoking. Could it be broken?"
Dino put down the wires in his hand, picked up the small box, and pried off the casing forcefully, releasing a burnt smell that made him cough twice.
"Good heavens, how did it burn like this?" Dino said, looking at the charred residue inside: "I always said the equipment made by those Poles was unreliable. Nick just wanted to save money..."
"We have no choice. We can't use Soviet equipment; you wouldn't even get a shell. German products are too conspicuous, so we have to make do with what we have." Jonathan took the bugs and said, "It was fine when it was placed in the church. How could it break so quickly?"
"It broke at the worst possible time," Dino sighed, looking around. Now they were crouching at the base of the building's wall, seemingly unnoticed, but he was worried the constant cawing of crows overhead would draw attention.
Jonathan looked up at the weather vane on the very top of the roof, looking like rain was near. He took out a thin book from his coat pocket and handed it to Dino, saying, "You go ahead and deliver the book. We can't delay when it comes to a woman in labor. I'll study this further, and if I can't repair it, I'll go to Artur's and take down the one we previously placed."
Dino nodded, tightened his overcoat, and walked through the alley toward the bar at the very end of the street, which also served food during meal times. He bought a sandwich, placing the handbook between the two layers of paper wrapping the sandwich.
He then went around to the back of the building where there was a very narrow staircase that led to the rooftop of the house. Since it was uphill, from the rooftop, one could reach another household's window.
It was obviously an unoccupied room, and Dino tiptoed to place the sandwich on the edge of the balcony—a spot easily visible from the main bedroom window of the Eisenhardt couple's home.
Shiller saw the sneaky hand reaching up with the sandwich, but he didn't say anything to Magda, who radiated with maternal grace.
"I don't know how to express my gratitude, Doctor; you saved both of us," Magda said with tears in her eyes. "The escape was so difficult. We had planned to go to Ukraine, but they just wouldn't leave us alone. I was also pregnant, and we couldn't run any farther. Returning to Germany is better."
"Yes, madam, this is Magnus's home," Shiller said.
"Is he a city person?" Magda asked, wiping her eyes, "He never talks about his past to me."
"Yes, I think you can tell he's well-educated, speaks English and French, and has good handwriting. Unfortunately..."
"Yes, there's no need to continue; we've all been through it," Magda said, "I'm a country girl, but I also had a happy family once. I'm not even a follower of Judaism. I don't know why they..."
"Madam, it's all in the past. Think about your child," Shiller said soothingly, "She's about to see the world. You and Magnus have the capability to provide her with a safe environment."
"Yes, yes, I know," Magda said nervously. Looking into Shiller's eyes, she said, "You are like him, aren't you?"
Shiller gently asked, "Like what?"
"When we escaped, Marx— I mean Magnus, he... he acted out of the ordinary. He always knew where the people chasing us were, and he made them disappear several times."
Shiller sighed softly, seeing that she was not the sharpest tool in the shed, even a bit foolish. She and Magneto were doomed not to end up together.
"Yes, we all have something special, but being special is a good thing in this era, isn't it?" Shiller told Magda, looking into her eyes: "This uniqueness saved your lives and will save you many more times."
"I hope so, I'm starting to feel a little pain in my belly."