Chapter 1031: Astonishing Mundanity (Part Eight) (Patreon)

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As Schiller entered the room, it was as quiet as if it were empty, the silence suppressing even the sound of breathing. Steve sat on the sofa next to the bar, two unopened cans of beer sitting on the table.

When Schiller sat across from him, he touched the surface of the two bottles of beer and found that one was at room temperature while the other was cold.

Under the table was a bottle of high-proof liquor, seemingly the base spirit for mixing The Tail of the Chicken cocktail. However, because it was too close to Steve, Schiller didn't reach for it, only judging from its appearance that it was a bottle of strong alcohol.

This room was actually the entertainment room of the Avengers base. When there were no missions, the members of the base would stay here, chatting, drinking, playing pool, or enjoying table football.

The decoration style here also followed the consistent style of the Avengers base, with smooth metal panels on the walls, a darker color for the floor, rivets on the four sides, industrial-style pendant lights, and decorative pipes covering the walls. There were two bright light strips under the bar counter, which were the only source of light in the room at the moment.

Steve sat on the sofa with his elbows on his knees, hands covering his face.

Upon hearing a sigh of disappointment, Steve's hand twitched slightly, but he still didn't look up until Schiller placed another opened can of beer in front of him.

Steve whimpered, shook his head, then covered his eyes with his hands, resembling a drunkard who had lost consciousness.

"Steve, stop pretending. I know you haven't been drinking," Schiller took another sip of the room-temperature beer. When the alcohol wasn't cold enough, it carried a bitter taste that he wasn't used to, so he put down the beer can.

"From the situation near the table, your actions just now should have been like this: You started feeling uncomfortable, sensing the onset of an episode, so you wanted to numb yourself with alcohol."

"You walked to the bar instinctively, grabbed a can of cold beer, but when you returned to your seat, you remembered that you just finished exercising and hadn't cooled down yet, so you couldn't drink something cold. Therefore, you walked over again and grabbed a can of room temperature beer."

"You were about to open the room temperature beer, seemingly remembering its somewhat unpleasant bitterness, perhaps also feeling that beer couldn't drown your sorrows. So, you returned to the bar and took a bottle of strong liquor."

"But at that moment, Peter came over. You thought about how young Peter was. Even though he was of legal drinking age, getting yourself drunk with strong liquor wasn't a good example. You couldn't set a bad example for the younger generation."

"So, instinctively, you took the strong liquor under the table and placed it by your leg, wanting to hide it."

"You didn't want to call me, but under Peter's repeated requests, you had to, because you didn't want to appear like an old-fashioned person who avoids treatment."

"Stop it," Steve spoke up, but Schiller continued at a rapid pace, "You care a lot about this matter. You really don't want others to know. The spiritual leader of the U.S. from the last century is completely outdated in this era."

"You've learned to use smartphones, adapted to modern life, but in the blink of an eye, Stark Industries has come up with a bunch of things that even modern people don't understand. For example, to ride a shuttle, you must apply for a transportation card, but the application process for the card is entirely automated..."

"This is nothing like the old days when you went to the bank and had a friendly member assist you. To apply for a transportation card for shuttles and interstellar trains, you just need to go to the intelligent service hall next to the transportation management office. You don't even need to operate machines; just tell the AI what you want to do..."

"It's a very, very simple process. So simple that even a child of a few years old, as long as they can find the place, can get it done. But you just don't want to do it because you have too many unreasonable worries about the possible accidents in this simple process."

"Or perhaps what troubles you the most is that it's rush hour for applying for transportation cards now, and the intelligent service hall must be crowded. You don't know how to communicate with AI; you're afraid of asking stupid questions and even more afraid of others hearing your stupid questions..."

"Stop it, Schiller, I'm begging you," Steve's voice kept trembling. He said, "I'm not worrying about these things at all. I can learn all these. I'm Captain America, and my learning ability has been enhanced..."

"Who told you that?" Schiller asked.

Steve was a bit at a loss by Schiller's question, so he moved his hand away, his hair extremely messy in front of his forehead, covering his tired eyes, making him look exhausted.

"I guess, maybe it was the people who transformed you who told you, right?" Schiller took another sip of the room-temperature beer that was hard to swallow. He couldn't bear it anymore and took the can of cold beer in front of Steve, opened it, and gulped down a few mouthfuls before sighing and saying:

"After your transformation was completed, the scientists told you that you had been transformed into the most perfect person of this era, with an incredibly strong physique, an intelligent brain, exceptional learning ability, and an unparalleled kindness..."

"Everyone said that, right? They said Captain America is the epitome of this era, a truly perfect individual, and you believed it." Schiller squinted at Steve and said, "But the truth is, there are no perfect individuals in this world, and even if you were perfect in the past era, this era is different. Your era is over."

"In the previous era, the Americans who experienced the Great Depression and Roosevelt's New Deal were so full of vitality, brave, hardworking, and intelligent. That was when this lighthouse shone brightest, and you were the brightest bulb on that lighthouse."

"You had to become the first person of the Golden Age of the U.S., the epitome of the American spirit." Schiller looked into Steve's eyes and said, "Everyone told you that, and you indeed did so."

"Their demands on you weren't excessive because at that time, this place was still the beacon of the world. People from other countries could ignore everything, but they had to acknowledge that the U.S. had indeed experienced a period of prosperity and glory."

"At that time, the people around you were all outstanding; disciplined officers, brilliant scientists, diligent workers. In such an environment, people looked up to you as their role model, and naturally, you strived to be the best."

As Schiller spoke in a calm tone, Steve seemed to truly see those scenes, or rather, those scenes had always been etched in his memory, never fading away.

That was the real Golden Age.

But the next moment, Schiller's words, like a heavy blow, shattered his illusion. Schiller's voice echoed in his ears again:

"But when you woke up, you found that the world had changed."

That vibrant country began to become somewhat chaotic, various ideologies, various factions took to the streets, entangled in issues you had never even heard of, causing chaos, leaving a mess behind. So, you didn't like going out much anymore."

"You used to enjoy reading the contents of newspapers, but now, thanks to the development of science and technology, human progress, it has turned into mutual insults, arguments without knowing what they're even arguing about. Sometimes it's political attacks, sometimes it's business competition. So, you don't really like reading newspapers anymore."

"You learned how to use smartphones, so you started using the internet, only to find that the web seemed to be full of extremists, with no one capable of rational thinking or discussion. So, you don't really like using smartphones anymore."

Schiller sighed, directly pointing out Steve's problem: "A giant who grew up in the Golden Age is unwilling to bow down to this decadent and chaotic era."

"You don't want to be Captain America of this era, but because of the patriotic education you once received, you feel guilty for your resistance to what's in your heart."

"You know in your heart that the old ways no longer work, but you don't know how to be a perfect person in this era. Should you compromise your principles? Should you cater to the masses and entertain yourself to death?"

"Your personality and your mission are in conflict, and you feel sad about it, but there's no one to talk to because those who gave you this mission have long since passed away."

"Rather than saying Captain America is the flag of the U.S., it's more accurate to say that you are the last remnant of the Golden Age, the last orphan of the American spirit."

A "bang" sounded as the sound of the cork being pulled out of the bottle reverberated in the silent room like an earthquake. Steve's arm trembled as he picked up the strong liquor and gulped it down.

"You're right, you're right..." Steve slurred, "I'm just an old-fashioned guy. I don't want to get a transportation card. I think walking is fine. It's good for health, and I can enjoy the scenery on the streets..."

"But Captain America can't be an old-fashioned guy. I can't just rush into some service hall, be dumbfounded by a bunch of robots, be photographed, and have it spread on their forums, then be ridiculed for my stupidity and backwardness, tarnishing the reputation of their ancestors..."

"It's clearly their fathers and grandfathers who did much better!" Steve slammed the bottle onto the table, speaking with such extreme intensity for the first time. "The people I know wouldn't advocate nothingness and death, wouldn't slander others based on just a photo, wouldn't promote a spirit of decadence, and take no responsibility as if it's a matter of course..."

"It was the efforts of that generation that brought about the results we have today. I can't let them be mocked!" Steve raised his voice, saying, "It's unfair to those who have died!"

"They died, so no one knows about their contributions. No one knows that they could have spent their time entertaining themselves, but they chose to strive, and they created such a great country."

"If the role model of that generation, which is me, also behaves extremely foolishly and conservatively, it will ridicule that era and everyone there..." Steve covered his eyes in pain.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Schiller took a sip of the cold beer. He didn't let Grey Mist control his body, and as a doctor, he couldn't drink often, so he wasn't very tolerant to alcohol. He was starting to feel slightly dizzy now.

"At that time, we talked about this topic..." Schiller paused for a moment, then continued, "I've said it before, you're not incapable of learning how to use smartphones, you just don't want to because you feel that the lifestyle of the past era is no less than the present. People back then were full of spirit and vitality."

"That's how it was." Steve wiped his mouth with his palm, then said, "Miss Carter wanted to go on a date with me. We arranged to meet at a restaurant in Brooklyn. After it was arranged, she asked me how I would get there, and I said I could walk there. She seemed very surprised."

"I know, people in this era rarely walk five or ten kilometers in one go, but the feeling of exercising is really great. While walking, I can also see if there are any changes in the store signs or if the shop windows have new products..."

"I don't like shuttles and interstellar trains. When they're running, the too regular vibrations make me feel like my muscles are being dissolved."

"But about this topic, I can't speak freely!" Steve frowned, lowered his head, and said with some pain, "I have to say I like it, I have to say I understand it..."

"Of course, Captain America should like these new things and understand them, but Miss Carter's question came too suddenly. I slipped up, and I couldn't take it back, or know how to respond. So, I had to reject her and even though the meeting place was arranged, I ran away like a coward."

"Don't... don't worry..." Schiller took two more sips of alcohol, his speech becoming a bit unclear, but he still tried to say, "I'm a... I'm a professional psychologist... I can analyze it all over again for you... Steve, Steve... listen..."

"Wait, you can't just drink beer!" Steve, who had drunk half a bottle of strong liquor in a short time, was also a bit intoxicated. He walked to the bar, brought over a few more bottles of alcohol, and handed them to Schiller, saying:

"You remind me of the times when I used to drink and chat with my comrades... Come on! Open it! Ah, no no no, let me open it for you, you... you drink this bottle, this one's mine..."

Schiller took a sip of the strong liquor, choked on it, but as the scorching liquid entered his chest, he felt a fire ignite within him, his brain becoming clearer.

"Drink... drink!" Schiller said somewhat unclearly, "If you can't outdrink me, I'll tell Tony all about your embarrassing moments..."

"Burp! Don't be silly... his dad can't outdrink me!"

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

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