PFC Chapter 4576 The Day of Brightest Day (35)
Chapter 4576 The Day of Brightest Day (35)
Chapter 4576 The Day of Brightest Light (Thirty-Five)
Even Deathstroke himself couldn't say for sure about this. In fact, he never felt that he had ever truly loved anything.
To be honest, he was quite good at rugby back then. If he had chosen to go to college, he might have actually made a name for himself. But he gave that up and chose to join the army, even lying about his age to enlist. In other words, he didn't even finish high school, probably only studied for one or two years before going to serve.
If he truly enjoyed being a soldier, he could have stayed in the military indefinitely. He was physically fit and well-liked. If he had chosen not to participate in the experiment and had steadily risen through the ranks, he could probably be a lieutenant colonel or senior colonel by now. But he still chose to leave and work independently.
To say he enjoys being a mercenary, he actually started doing it because the human modifications had a side effect: they made him violent and bloodthirsty. He couldn't control himself and could only vent his frustrations on the battlefield. Later, he met a middleman who thought he had great talent. Deathstroke also thought it was a win-win situation—solving the side effects and making money at the same time—so he agreed. And he's been doing it ever since.
Most of the things he did in his life weren't chosen out of passion. Looking back now, it does seem rather bizarre.
Deathstroke began to carefully recall why he had chosen to play football and why he wanted to join the army. Because it was all so distant, it took him a long time to unearth some details of his memories. But he couldn't remember whether they were real memories or figments of his imagination.
He remembered his kind neighbor mentioning to his sons that he hoped they could become quarterbacks. At that time, Deathstroke didn't even know what a quarterback was; he just understood it as the best player in football. When he played on his high school team, he aimed to be a quarterback. This was probably influenced by that man.
Then came military service, and Mr. Sanders did serve, I think. He repaired tanks or some kind of engineering equipment—a technical branch. He used to take his children to the yard to tinker with car parts when they were young. He also hoped his sons would serve their country in the military.
As everything from the past gradually became clearer before his eyes, Deathstroke was surprised to find that this man, with whom he had only spent a few months, had had such a powerful impact on his life, even changing his entire destiny.
“There is no vacuum of power,” Schiller said. “The same is true of patriarchy. When you need something, there will always be someone to meet it, no matter who he is.”
"Then why did I still fail?" Deathstroke said. "Was it because I didn't spend enough time with him?"
"Because you start imitating him too early. The root of many people's suffering is trying to become someone else before they have become themselves," Schiller said, lowering his eyes. "Whether it's the child that parents idealize, a certain form under social discipline, or the self in one's imagination."
"Good son, good daughter, good student, good employee—these identities expand infinitely during their formative years until they completely overwhelm their true selves. The consequence is a cognitive dissonance that permeates their entire lives. On the surface, they appear happy and content, but in reality, they grow increasingly distant from the world. That barrier grows thicker and thicker until it completely isolates them from their inner selves. This is a common phenomenon in modern society."
Deathstroke probably understood what Schiller meant. Slade Wilson was only a few years old at the time. He should have been able to fully express himself under the protection of his parents, playing football if he wanted to, and reading if he wanted to. But in reality, his father was dead, and his mother was busy making a living, constantly moving around, leaving him with little room to develop himself.
His imitation of Mr. Sanders led him to learn how to be a father at an age when he should have been exploring himself. This is why he wanted to join the school football team and even lied about his age to enlist in the army, because he was constantly playing the role of a father.
“This is a manifestation that is the opposite of psychodegenerative disorders,” Schiller said. “It is generally called premature aging. Psychodegenerative disorders are those that never mature, while premature aging is those that mature too early. But what is not common sense is that these two conditions always occur at the same time.”
"Because of premature mental aging, people are unable to explore themselves, which leads to the suppression of their truest selves. Just like you, you have no opportunity to complete self-exploration, struggle and transformation, so you remain in childhood and experience mental regression."
"This is why people always say that what one cannot obtain in childhood will ultimately trap one for life. Many children who mature early spend the rest of their lives chasing after the childhood they never had. This is a manifestation of premature spiritual aging and regression."
Schiller continued, "Unfortunately, the father you are playing is not suitable for your son. Because he is not the same as the person you imitated and his sons."
Schiller paused for a moment, then continued, “But this should actually be considered a sign of your success. Because you made a lot of money, provided him with a relatively stable living environment, and at the same time, you weren’t always in front of him. Most of the time, it was his mother who educated him, and his mother was relatively willing to respect his personality. So he could develop freely and had ample time to explore himself. And it’s normal that the self he discovered is different from you and the person you imitated.”
Deathstroke opened his mouth, unsure whether to laugh or cry. He said, "So I should appear in front of him less often?"
"You might not believe it, but he doesn't understand theory. However, he may have already realized that the father you are playing is too thin and empty. That's not the real you, and you don't have the charisma you imagine to inspire him to imitate you."
“You imitate your neighbor because he really is that kind of person. That’s his true self, which is why it’s so attractive. But you’re just an imitator, and there will always be flaws. Your son happens to be perceptive and smart enough to sense that something is wrong, so he will choose to stay away from you as much as possible instead of learning from you. Because even if he does learn from you, it’s not the real you; it’s just imitating the appearance again.”
More details surfaced, giving Deathstroke the feeling of suddenly glimpsing a corner of the real world. When Joseph was very young, they were also very close. Whatever Deathstroke did, Joseph would follow him around like an inseparable little tail.
Deathstroke built him a trampoline, took him to clean the swimming pool, and let him sit on the roof of a car to identify its parts. These seemingly heartwarming parent-child interactions should have always been in his mind, giving him strength and something to cherish.
Movies often depict scenes like this: a dying soldier, his mind filled with images of playing with his children in the backyard. But for Deathstroke, that never happened.
When he was in trouble, he never for a moment recalled these so-called beautiful scenes. He would think of Joseph, but never of these scenes.
Deathstroke racked his brains, trying to recall what Joseph was like when he thought of him. Then he realized that in the scenes he remembered, both of them were silent.
Either they've finished eating, there's no ball game today, Deathstroke is sitting in front of the computer watching boring variety shows, and Joseph is tinkering with something by himself, maybe building blocks, maybe a book.
Or perhaps after playing on the lawn, they were all a little tired and lay motionless on the grass, staring at the sky. No one asked a question, no one answered, and no one paid attention to each other.
Even when Mrs. Wilson thought the death knell was too loud and asked him to shut up, the three of them remained silent on the drive back from the supermarket until their cold war ended.
Deathstroke never expected that he would unearth these memories. What was he thinking during those moments? Was he bored? Was he tired? It seems like neither.
Deathstroke realized that he relaxed during those quiet moments. No, he wasn't even aware that he was relaxing; his mind was simply blank. And his extraordinary mind wasn't so easily blanked.
This sudden realization nearly broke Deathstroke. It was like living for decades, and then someone suddenly telling you that the person you were before wasn't the real you. But you were powerless to refute it, because you certainly hadn't been happy.
“Perhaps you are a quiet person by nature,” Schiller said. “You can study hard in high school, choose a college major you like, and spend every weekend in the library.”
"Gotham University?" Deathstroke said irritably. "You go to the library every weekend to create an alibi for a murder?"
Schiller slowly shifted his gaze. Deathstroke, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes.
“The power of genes is stronger than you think,” Schiller said. “Your feeling that your son’s personality is not like yours is not refuting this theory, but rather confirming it. Because if you had the same childhood as him, your personality would probably be similar to his.”
“I still find it absurd,” Deathstroke said. “Even so, do you really think a quiet boy could handle this situation?”
"Why don't you think about another question? Are private schools really that good?"
Deathstroke paused, completely unprepared for Schiller to bring this up; the topic had shifted too quickly. He thought for a moment and said, "It depends on the level of the private school. The school I sent Joseph to is quite good; the tuition is about two hundred thousand US dollars a year, and it's a top-tier school in the region."
"But it's not the best."
“It’s not the best. I’m not stupid. Someone like me, whose money is hard to come by and who’s rarely home, would definitely get his child bullied if I sent him to a school full of rich kids. I chose a school where most of the students come from families with similar financial circumstances to ours.”
“You’ve done a great job. But it’s still not that simple. It’s not easy for someone who likes to be alone and isn’t good at socializing to establish themselves in a private high school. And it’s even more unusual if you say that his friends have never complained to you about anyone bullying your son.”
“Why?” Deathstroke said. “Of course I know there might be bad people at school, but does it have to be Joseph?”
"The problem is that you said the boy was somewhat reckless and outspoken. Such people are often emotional and impulsive. Their views tend to be subjectively embellished and exaggerated. Thinking about it this way, doesn't that raise a big issue?"