"What's wrong?" Brand asked as he poured Shiller a cup of coffee, "You don't seem in high spirits."
"Madam Kolbott's condition isn't great," Shiller was clearly distracted as he spoke, thinking about something, "Of course, considering her mental state and physical condition, the fact that she has held on until now is quite remarkable. What worries me is that if this continues, Cobblepot might start having problems too."
Brand sat next to Shiller, shoulder to shoulder, and said, "The reason he can't bring himself to decide on a biopsy is that as soon as the test is done, he won't be able to hide it from his mother. It could further agitate her mentally."
"How likely is it?"
"Based on my experience, there's more than a ninety percent chance."
"Then it must be lung cancer."
"To be honest, I have suggested he find a test that wouldn't alarm his mother."
"Is there such a device?"
"Even if Wayne Hospital doesn't have it, Batman certainly does. But he told me that knowing the results might be too much for him to bear, and it would be difficult for him not to show it in front of his mother. The outcome would be the same."
"Cobblepot is too dependent on his mother," Shiller took a sip of his coffee, feeling much better, and continued, "For years, his only emotional outlet has been his mother. It's extremely unhealthy, but she does indeed need constant care, and no one can fault his filial piety."
"Everyone has to go through that stage, realizing that at the end of the road of life, you're left with only yourself," Brand reflected, "If you have a spouse and children, maybe you can shift your emotions. If not, you have to learn to tolerate loneliness."
The two fell silent for a moment, then Shiller stood up, took the initiative, and said, "I'll go check on my room."
Brand nodded, stood up, and took him to the guest rooms in the reception area of Arkham Asylum. As it was a comprehensive sanatorium, there were many hotel-style rooms.
Brand chose a corner room for Shiller. The living room at the corner of the room had two large floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the sea. The room had strong air conditioning, making it very cool, and was also equipped with a computer and projector for office use.
As soon as Shiller saw the computer, he remembered he hadn't finished grading some papers. He set aside the idea of taking a walk to the activity building and decided to finish his work first.
Before that, he made a call to Helen, asking them to keep it down and not damage his house, only to hear James Gordon's voice in the background. Not surprisingly, it seemed the group had gotten themselves into a fight and ended up at the police station.
Shiller really didn't want to deal with them anymore, facing teenagers' homework was better than dealing with the teenagers themselves. Papers have their limits of being terrible, teenagers do not.
Shiller went from grading papers around noon until the afternoon, until Brand came knocking on his door again. Upon opening the door, he saw Brand holding a bottle of wine. Brand said, "There's a small gathering at the activity building tonight, are you going?"
Looking at the emails he had almost sent out, Shiller nodded and took the bottle of wine from Brand's hands, surprised, he raised an eyebrow and said, "Did you strike it rich?"
"Hardly, it was a gift from someone else."
Shiller walked over to the wine cabinet, finding a spot for the fine wine. He recognized the label as somewhat familiar, but his brain was still full of the students' trashy papers and didn't ponder it further.
For dinner, they went to the restaurant. Shiller ordered a table full of cold dishes. Brand was amused and said, "It seems you're really struggling with the heat. What's the temperature in the city now?"
"43 degrees, can you believe it?" Shiller said as he sliced a piece of salmon, "But some people can still manage to play football for half a day in this kind of weather."
"Young people are always so full of energy," Brand shook his head.
They chatted as they ate, and dinner time passed quickly. They left the restaurant and went to the activity building. Brand, not needing to register, led Shiller into the club's main hall.
Shiller exchanged pleasantries with the people there, whether he knew them well or not. Though they weren't his usual colleagues and friends from the Gotham University faculty club, the crowd wasn't much different.
People were scattered around the tables, drinking, chatting, some reading books, some reading newspapers, and others playing cards – the entertainment for Gotham's social stratum hadn't changed much over the years.
However, with technological advancements, a movie was projected on one side wall of the hall, with several people sitting and watching.
Shiller was just curious about what movie was being shown. He walked over to have a look, and indeed, there was Selina.
It seemed like a romantic movie about exploring ancient tombs in Mexico, where Selina played a character similar to Laura. She was quite suitable for the role as she was not only beautiful but also strong, arguably maximizing her talents as the Flying Thief.
The male protagonist was a bit lackluster, not only less handsome than Bruce but also his fight scenes were stiff. The plot was so frustrating for Shiller that he could not help but criticize, as the monsters emerged from underground, the male lead ran away first, while Selina's female protagonist character was madly in love with him. If it were the real Selina, she would have slapped him against the wall with no hope of peeling him off.
Shiller sat there watching for a while, unable to bear the melodramatic romance for too long. The other people seemed engrossed in the film. Looking around, he noticed that everyone was wearing hospital gowns.
As Shiller was observing the audience in front, he suddenly spotted a somewhat familiar figure.
"Who is that? What's the name?"
Following the direction Shiller pointed, Brand looked over and after a brief recollection said, "Oh him, he's called Nigma, I remember his condition is post-traumatic stress disorder and severe obsessive-compulsive disorder."
"Edward Nigma?"
"Seems like it." Brand took out his phone, did a quick search, and then said, "No mistake, Edward Nigma, admitted four years ago. His condition was very serious when admitted, manifesting uncontrollable writing and solving riddles. After a period of treatment, he improved, but he could never stop taking his medication."
"Over a year ago, after several sessions of electroconvulsive shock, his condition improved significantly, and now, aside from his fondness for riddle books, he's almost normal. His doctor's prognosis is that he could be discharged in the second half of the year, barring any unforeseen circumstances."
Shiller felt somewhat emotional; he had been wondering where the Riddler of his cosmos had gone and had even asked Gordon to keep an eye out, only to find that he had already been hospitalized and was nearly recovered.
However, as for whether Edward could truly recover, Shiller was pessimistic. The Riddler was one of the few genuinely mentally ill criminals in the singing arena, unlike the Joker and Scarecrow who generally had antisocial personalities but were not considered mentally ill, but Edward was a real psychiatric patient.
In the original comic book storyline, he had exhibited very clear compulsive tendencies. He once confessed that he didn't want to leave riddles behind, but he couldn't help it; he had to keep committing crimes, leaving riddles for others to guess, and then getting sent back to the insane asylum.
"How was he admitted here?" Shiller asked.
"He came on his own," Brand seemed to finally remember something, "One day he collapsed at the door of the insane asylum. The nurse found him covered in wounds, and brought him in fearing that he would get an infection from the rain. They discovered he had severe mental problems."
"At that time, a music festival was being prepared, and we were also concerned that releasing him would lead to him causing destruction. The insane asylum was doing well financially; we could afford to keep one more patient, so we just admitted him."
"Are you certain the blood on him was his own?"
"Do you suspect he killed someone? We had our suspicions too, but we're not police and couldn't determine that."
"You do realize you could have gone to Gordon, right?"
"There was no need," Brand emphasized, "Four years ago, he was just 20 years old, still a child, just like the Cobblepot of those days. Why be so harsh on him?"
"I'm only concerned that his condition may be related to his experiences. Who caused the injuries on him?"
"I don't know, but they appeared to be from a beating. Considering his post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms, he likely has severe childhood trauma, possibly from school violence."
"You always research 'possibilities'."
"Because I'm a pathologist," Brand stated, "Luckily, his recovery has been good; I plan to discharge him in September if all goes well."
"I'll go take a look," Shiller put down his glass and said.
He walked over and sat next to Edward, who seemed startled by his approach and turned his head, but did not make eye contact with Shiller, instead tilting his eyes upwards to look at him sidelong.
"Hello, Mr. Nigma, I'm Shiller, a psychology professor at Gotham University. Doctor Brand is my friend."
Shiller handed Edward a business card while examining his face, which indeed resembled that of most Riddlers, though younger and not as pale; he didn't outwardly look like a psychiatric patient.
But when Edward reached out his hand, Shiller could see his motor impairment, his wrist-turning motion was rather stiff, and when he tucked the business card back into his pocket, his shoulders seemed locked, unsure of how to move smoothly and naturally.
"Have you had electroconvulsive therapy?" Shiller inquired.
Edward nodded silently.
"How do you feel? A bit more relaxed?"
Edward actually pondered carefully before nodding his head, his neck retracted. He didn't show any fear because modern electroconvulsive therapy is done under full anesthesia, implying that you wouldn't know anything once you lay on the surgical bed. It's primarily used to stimulate nerves and aid recovery.
His demeanor was somewhat unexpected to Shiller because this type of mental patient should exhibit more excitement, even verbosity, during communication, which appears nonsensical to the average person, but a psychologist could infer their current state from their logical speech.
Edward appeared shy and silent, actually a good sign, because it is appropriate to act this way in front of strangers. Shiller felt a bit of pressure; it would be abnormal for Edward to become excited.
Learning to avoid is an important part of recovery for similar patients; it helps them develop correct social thinking and reduces their aggressiveness. It seems that though Doctor Brand may be clueless in conversation, he has a knack for treating patients.
"How have you been feeling lately?" Shiller asked, softening the pressure and slowing his tone.
"Pretty good, I've been fine," Edward responded.
"Which room are you staying in? Maybe I can visit you later."
"7013," Edward replied. "Can I leave a riddle on the door?"
"Of course, if you want to," Shiller had just finished speaking when he remembered that next door, room 7014, was where Madam Kolbott stayed.
"Do you know Madam Kolbott?"
It seemed Edward finally came out of his avoidance state, nodding vigorously, "She's nice, but very ill. Cobblepot brings me riddle books, he reads them, answers my riddles..."
Shiller noticed Edward still had some muscle twitches on the corner of his mouth and neck, probably a side effect of medication, but his basic language logic was clear. Talking about riddles didn't bring out any abnormal excitement, truly different from other Riddlers.
"I know you love riddles. So, do you prefer life with or without riddles now?" Shiller probed further.
This time, Edward considered for a long while before responding at length.