Abyss Train

Chapter 834 Tantrum①·Schizophrenia

[Part①·Devil's Talk Show]
Your name is Ben.

Ben Rickett -

——Graduated from Florida State University in 2017.

You're a black man, Ben, can you hear me?
Today is March 21, 2030 in the Gregorian calendar, and it is also your 33rd birthday.

Before this, your bank account still owes $21,683 in student loans from your last academic year.

You have good grades in the school basketball team, but you are not at the level to enter the draft stage, and your talent for shooting the ball does not seem to catch up with your alumni of the same period.

You got your first real job at age 26, after having worked odd jobs at a dollar burger joint, even though you have a diploma from the University of Florida.

You frequent social welfare restaurants, and because of your large physique, people can easily see you at a glance. You queue up two or three times and eat a lot of food.

Ben, wake up, this is a crucial moment in your life.

Marty TV approached you because you were so humorous and funny.

——You are invited to the live broadcast of a TV show called "Devil's Talk Show".

Now is the time for you to change your destiny. You can’t let your mind wander anymore. You can’t let your mind wander because of your drug addiction.

You should turn your eyes back to the audience and look at the camera.

Stop peeking at the hostess' collar, that's not what you should be looking at - Rickett.

"Mr. Ben! What did she say when the field reporter was interviewing randomly on the street?" A blonde beauty was standing on the main podium in the studio. She wore glasses and looked very gentle. She had a work badge on her chest. On the badge was written a strange name - Latia Morrigan.

Ben Ricketts, you've never heard of this name. This radio station was still broadcasting news from hot air balloons to old drivers all over Florida in the 1990s. You grew up here - as for this new show, you've never even heard of it.

You've never recovered since you were fired from the Miami Police Department because of a drunk driving accident.

You caught the prosecutor's daughter because she couldn't do something as simple as follow your instructions and drive in a straight line, following the white lines in the emergency lane - you gave her a ticket and revoked her license.

So you lose your job and you're almost gone.

Ben Rickett, what a pathetic clown, Ben Rickett, go to a public drug abuse center!

You thought so and couldn't turn over.

"Ben? Mr. Ben?" Ms. Latia seemed a little impatient.

It's your turn to speak——

"——Oh!" You feel your eyes dry and your brain is extremely tired when facing so many flashing lights.

Latia then asked, "What did the field reporter ask at the time? Ben? You've introduced yourself, and we all know you now. Is it okay to be familiar with each other? Don't be nervous."

You licked your lips, unable to recall the street interview a week ago, so you just casually brought up a topic to please others -

"——At that time, your staff found me, a homeless man."

When you got the microphone, you spoke faster and made up this lie, and you felt your heart beating faster.

You used to be a policeman and you know how to fool ordinary people.

"They asked me, how's Miami? How's Florida?"

"I said, I like TIKTOK, I like Chinese-made mobile phones that cost about $200, I like sleeping in the park, and this city is beautiful!~"

"I have to especially thank the supermarket trash cans, which always find a great meal, really - there are a lot of expired foods that are thrown away before they are even opened. I want to thank American Standards!"

Ms. Latia obviously sensed your inexplicable anger—

——I admire this kind of anger, which is destructive and violent and seems to be able to destroy everything.

The audience laughed out loud at your sudden nonsense, and the show was pretty good? Ben?

They are laughing at you, yes, they are laughing at you.

Instead of continuing to speak, you let the laughter continue for a while and then continued.

"Do you care who will be the next president of the United States? I don't really care anyway."

"He can't make me a millionaire. He can't change the color of my skin. Can he make me take two more bullets? Or make marijuana legal in Texas? I've wanted to go to Texas for a long time, but I'm afraid that the supermarket employees there will see me--"

You make obscene gestures.

"—you know, these guys should come out with watermelons and whips and leave me to serve the Mexicans."

The sensitive topic of immigration became the next joke. You don’t understand why these people continued to laugh, or was this arranged by the director?

"I wouldn't go to Chinatown to beg for food anyway, because I might actually get food - just food. Not a dime."

"They really give us food, do you know what I mean?"

"I used to think that the Chinese girls I saw on the street were pretty, but when they started getting tattoos and trying to fit the aesthetics in magazines, they became weird."

You can straighten your big eyes, pull the corners of your eyes as far toward the top of your head as possible, and make your nose flatter.

"Uh! Eh!~~Uh!~I'm a simple girl!~EZ Girl!~"

"In my hometown, my virginity can be sold for $80,000!~ But in America, you only need to pay for a McDonald's meal!~"

Obviously, this unscrupulous approach was received with very warm applause, and some people even whistled for you, Ben Rickett.

You're a genius, and I can feel the rage building inside of you.

Just at this moment, Ms. Latia called for a stop, and the show entered the intermission commercial time.

You were exhausted and went backstage to take a break. Drug addiction dragged you back into the abyss again. Your hands couldn't stop shaking, tears and saliva flowed out. When you cleaned the bathroom, you pulled your cap down as much as possible, not wanting to expose your ugly appearance in front of others.

Your phone lights up, and a medical report from the state hospital almost breaks your heart.

Ben Rickett - You have been diagnosed with schizophrenia, just like my existence, I am watching you all the time.

Our condition has not improved at all, and the doctor has given you an authoritative certificate.

You keep wiping your brow, trying to drive away another demon in your heart. At the same time, a short man walks in from the toilet door.

He was an Oriental man, looked only thirteen or fourteen years old, wearing a strange coat, and lit a cigarette.

"Hey kid," you say with good intentions. "You shouldn't smoke."

The short guy, who was too short for a pocket, pointed at his work badge and didn't respond immediately - you could tell that this guy seemed to have a low tolerance for stupidity.

The work ID card has the logo of the Department of Homeland Security printed on it, and the name is XingChen Su - Su Xingchen.

Age was thirty-seven, and gosh, he just looked young.

“Oh, sorry.”

The Homeland Security agent responded: "Can't smoke here?"

“Probably not.” You replied.

Su Xingchen: "You want one too? Just pretend you didn't see me?"

After hesitating for a long time, you took the cigarette and asked Agent Su Xingchen for a lighter.

Su Xingchen said: "It feels bad when drug addiction strikes, right?"

You are a little flustered, which will affect your screen image.

"how do you know"

Su Xingchen: "You can tell at a glance that I've been in the drug and explosives search team. Ben Rickett - I hope you can stand up. If you need help, call this number?"

A business card was handed to you, but you didn't reach out to take it. Because it was too late. A sharp shout came from the door of the men's restroom. It was a woman shouting in Chinese.

You can't understand Chinese, it's too complicated.

"Fuck, you're smoking again?!" Su Xingchen's sister Su Xingcai found this place.

Su Xingchen threw down his cigarette butt and walked out in a panic: "I'll be there soon!"

Su Xingcai: "Can Teacher Victor's talk show really find the source of the spiritual disaster?"

Su Xingchen: "How should I know? This is just a social experiment! People focus their malice on one person, and naturally all kinds of supernatural events will occur. They say it's a devil talk show, but who knows if a devil really was invited that day?"

[Part②·Raging]
At this moment, in these obscure Chinese languages.

You feel a strange pain in your back. Under the cold light of the bathroom, there seems to be a black dog with charcoal flames all over its body. It is staring at you. It smells the anger in your heart.

It climbed onto your back—

——You don't know what this is. Is it a hallucination caused by schizophrenia? Or a phantom produced by drug addiction?
Beat it.
Ben Rickett, beat it.

Until it goes down your throat along with the cigarette and turns into a cloud of black mist.

6◇9◇Book◇Bar

Your heart becomes even hotter, and you return to the studio, using illness as an excuse to end the day's program recording work - Ms. Latia is confused, but this beautiful and kind host still pays you $1,200.

You return to the beach, sit in a chair, and think about it all.

A kid from the Shark Gang came over familiarly, poked your arm with a shifty look, and a little white powder package appeared from his inner pocket.

Several times you wanted to take money out of your clothes to buy a little "happiness" - but in the end you hesitated.

You talk to this child.

"You shouldn't do this, Xiaobao"

"You're still young, you shouldn't do this!"

Instead of thanking you, the boy started to get impatient: "Hey! Who are you lecturing? Do you have any right to care? Poor guy! If you can't afford it, just say so! You're wasting my time!"

These words are like a thousand knives, they poke countless holes in your heart.

But now your heart has become a furnace, and these holes are like storm eyes that will only blow the fire even more vigorously.

You go to the Green Palm Apartments, which is your temporary residence. The innkeeper is very familiar with you, and they are all black brothers.

——For only eight dollars, he is willing to lend you the house on the roof for one night, on the condition that you don't bring anyone back.

When you climbed to the fifth floor, you waited at the door for a while.

The boss is a 180-kilogram fat guy. He has always been inexplicably proud of your former identity as a state police officer, so that he can brag about it to his gaming friends - if you make him unhappy, one phone call will lead the FBI to your door through the Internet cable.

"Hey! I want three pizzas."

"right"

The young boss said this on the phone.

"Oh! How much tableware? How many people?"

"No, no, no, of course I have a lot of people here, a lot of people!"

"Yeah! I'm not some weirdo who eats three pizzas by myself! That's impossible!"

"Me! And my best buddy! Ben Rickett! ~Have you watched Marty's show tonight? He's on TV!"

"Hahahaha! You're so humorous. The other one? The other one is mine."

"My girlfriend. Yes, I have a girlfriend."

The young boss hugged the inflatable doll tightly——

"——Her name is Mareda, and she is Indian."

"I rescued her from the devil's den. She had to live with a headscarf. Thanks to the Shark Gang, I was able to save this stowaway."

"Oh? Indians don't wear turbans? No, no, no."

"She is a Muslim, an Indian Muslim."

"No need to talk, I want three pizzas, oh my god!"

"You are fucking insulting Mareda's beliefs. You look down on women? Oh my God? She heard it! She's going to jump off the building! My love! No!~"

The young boss threw the kettle downstairs and quickly hung up the phone. He looked extremely nervous.

You don’t understand the meaning of this mysterious ritual - perhaps it is also a kind of persistence, a belief.

“I’m gonna stay on the roof for a night, bro.” You toss the bills into the room.

To be honest, you don’t like this little boss’s room very much, or you don’t even want to step into it.

There are Coke bottles everywhere, or you wonder if Coke is running in this guy's blood.

"You still want me to pick it up? My brother." The young boss's eyes became impatient: "Why can't you be respectful to me, Ben? You should hand this eight dollars to me."

"It stinks, sorry." You responded casually, "You smell much worse than me, even worse than a homeless person like me. Oh my god, how many days have you not showered?"

"Fuck you." The young boss cursed and got up reluctantly to pick up the money.

There was an indescribable stench on his body, perhaps because he occasionally fainted in front of the TV due to blood pressure problems, and drooled a lot while snoring, and the odor was mixed with sweat and grease.

You think that staying one more second will shorten your life, but when you look at the boss's computer screen - the host of the adult porn program is posing and selling products, a bunch of fitness equipment.

"You don't need it, brother." You said so, and advised earnestly: "It's fake."

The young boss responded: "What's fake? What's wrong with me supporting my favorite anchor?"

You continued, "They are all fake. This woman's face and the goods she brought are all fake."

Boss: What are you crazy about?

"Xingchi's dumbbells don't cost that much. Even if you buy them directly from Amazon, you won't need that much." You tell the truth directly: "This woman has had at least six cosmetic surgeries on her face. I can still see the scars. She's really hardworking. Maybe she came out to promote the product before she was done with the recovery period of the surgery. Brother, the beauty filter helped cover up some of her ugliness, but those swollen apple cheeks won't lie."

"She is lying to you, to many people like you."

"She's eating your flesh and drinking your blood, and you still want to thank her?"

"You want to cheer for her and become her die-hard fan?"

"I threw money into your house and you scolded me for not respecting you enough?"

An indescribable rage took over your heart -

"--Forget your Mareda? You don't have any Indian girlfriend, you fat lying bastard."

The experience you gained from criminal investigation allowed you to make these correct judgments, but they were not correct enough, far from enough.

The young boss seemed to be enraged. He pulled out a gun from under the table and pointed it at your nose.

At that moment, you seem to feel that your life can finally end, which is also a kind of relief. You can't suppress this ecstasy - you are controlled by anger, and you completely give your soul to the black dog.

"boom!--"

With almost no warning, the bullet exploded before it even had a chance to enter the chamber, shattering the young boss's hand.

You didn't call emergency services, you didn't respond to screams, you just waited for the pizza to be delivered.

You watched all this coldly, slowly climbed to the top floor, collapsed in a pile of old newspapers, and slowly fell asleep.

(End of this chapter)