Chapter 9: Seeking

  In July 2010, the Third Gulf War ended.

  In December 2011, its main war criminal Darius XV was hanged.

  Chapter 9: Seeking

  "Nice to meet you, Russ. My name is JACK!"

  "Jack? Where are you? Who are you?" Russ's gaze swept every corner of the room, but he couldn't see anyone else besides himself. Russ started to feel panicked, even wondering if he was hallucinating. "Don't you recognize me? It's me, I'm Jack!" The man's voice kept hovering around Russ's ears. "Where are you hiding? Come out! If not, I'll call the police!" "How sad, you don't have any impression of me at all! Look at your computer screen!" "Computer?" Russ quickly walked to the computer and saw that the screen was displaying the homepage of the [LuoRen] forum, with the administrator's ID being "JACK".

  "You're JACK..." Ruth involuntarily took a cold breath, "You mean... you're 'me'?"

  "Bingo! That's correct! I am you and you are me. Ruth, Jack, we're the same person!"

  "What's going on? Am I too tired and hearing things?"

  "No, no joke, no hallucination. Rus, I'm asking you sincerely, do you want to kill 'her'? If you don't have the courage, I can take care of it!"

  JACK's voice sent a chill down his spine, or rather, it was an unease that only Russ could feel. "Who to kill? I don't know what you're talking about?" "EON, don't play dumb, you know! Don't you hate the woman who made you like this deep down in your heart? Haven't you always wanted to kill her?" "No! I never thought that!" "Hahahaha, you're really funny. Don't forget, 'I' am 'you', how could I not know what you're thinking? You hate her, I hate her, you don't dare kill her, so I'll help you kill!" "Bastard!!" Russ grabbed an ashtray and threw it at the wall with force, "What are you? Get out of here!"

  Ashes scattered all over the floor. A ghost? An apparition? Russ asked himself, but deep down, he knew it could be something far more terrifying than ghosts or spirits. The room fell silent, and Jack's voice seemed to have vanished. "Hey... why aren't you talking anymore... are you still there?" Russ asked cautiously. No one replied. At this moment, the room was left with only him, or rather, the room had always been empty except for him.

  "Impossible..." Russ's butt fell to the ground, and his eyes revealed genuine fear. "Am I...splitting?" The more he thought about it, the scarier it became. Loneliness suddenly attacked his heart. After experiencing so many break-ups, Russ indeed had some resentment towards women in his heart; he also had thoughts of "I wish my ex-girlfriend would die". Just now, that JACK had magnified and materialized these deepest things in his heart. What else could this be but a split personality?

  "Damn it... How could this be... It can't be, it's just a broken heart, it's just yesterday's plan that failed... What's wrong with me... Split personality... What's happening to me?" Rus's lips moved as he spoke, his damp hair looking even more disheveled, making him look like a nervous wreck on the verge of collapse. "No way... No way... This is just an illusion, just an illusion!" He muttered to himself as he stood up, and a book on the table caught his eye - it was that book "Exploration of Criminal Psychology", with the last page open. Rus walked over to the table, his eyes fixed on a line of small text at the bottom of the page...

  "New York City · Queens County · 182nd Street"

  China · Wuhan · XX Street Police Station ——

  "Is someone finally here?..." The police station's door was open, and a man in uniform and several women in uniform were chatting. This was Li Ming's second time at the police station. He hadn't given up, not even with just a glimmer of hope, he still persisted. "Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, I'm here to make a statement." Li Ming broke into the police officers' lively conversation. "Make a statement? What's this about?" The male officer asked impatiently. "My home was robbed yesterday, 110 told me to come today to make a statement." "Go over there, go over there!" The officer pointed to the front consultation desk, where a fat policewoman stood behind it. Li Ming walked over and said to the policewoman, "I'm here to make a statement." The fat policewoman seemed busy snacking on melon seeds, without even lifting her head, "What's this about?" "My home was robbed yesterday, 110 told me to come make a statement." "Oh." The fat policewoman took out a notebook and threw it on the front desk, "Just write down the details of what was stolen, what items were taken, that's all." "Ah... okay... excuse me, where is the pen?" "Pen? It's on the table over there!" The fat policewoman pointed casually, still not lifting her head. Li Ming cursed silently to himself, then picked up the notebook and walked to the desk to sit down.

  The male and female police officers in front of the door were still chatting, with their mouths flying and their eyebrows dancing, as if they didn't need to work on cases at all, just idle chatter, waiting for the end of their shift.

  Li Ming cursed again in his heart, today he had been cursing all day.

  "Did you know? Saddam Hussein died yesterday!" the male police officer said. "The Saddam from the third Gulf War? How did he die?" a female police officer asked, seeming more interested in the news than in handling cases. "Hanged, executed by hanging. More than 3,000 American soldiers have died and they've been stuck in that godforsaken place for so long, killing Saddam is a way to vent their anger." "But the US troops still can't withdraw." "Yes, the situation in the Gulf doesn't allow them to pull out." "Ah, Americans are really pitiful. Killing Saddam at this time, they probably just want to have a peaceful Christmas."

  The conversation continued, all about things that had nothing to do with the case. "Whether Darius is dead or not has nothing to do with you Chinese police!" Li Ming muttered to himself as he wrote down the record. He felt a sense of sadness for these policemen. After finishing the record, Li Ming specially emphasized the five books, but he still didn't feel at ease in his heart. Because earlier, he had flipped through the previous pages of the record book and found that almost all of them were unsolved cases. Among them, many were similar to his own case, with some even reporting two months ago and still having no progress.

  "Alas..."

  Li Ming let out a sigh, handing the notebook back to the fat policewoman at the consultation desk. "Do I need to go through any more procedures? Do I need to go home and have my fingerprints taken or something?" "No need, this is enough, we know how to handle the case, you can go now." Go... Li Ming's heart felt a chill. What could he do but feel helpless? It wasn't up to him to decide how the police handled cases; it wasn't up to him to change society either. Li Ming didn't say anything more, turned around and silently walked out of the police station.

  A loser... Yeah, I'm just such a loser, one who hates both criminals and cops.

  New York, Queens, 182nd Street

  This is a two-story office building with a sign that reads "Saeed Psychological Institute" at the entrance. In fact, it's just a psychological clinic opened by Professor Saeed, the author of "Exploring Criminal Psychology".

  Rush had never been to a place like this before, and he had always thought it was shameful to seek out a doctor for mental issues. But now, he had no choice. If he didn't figure out what was wrong with his mind, he wouldn't be able to sleep at night. The author of "Criminal Psychology" should be an authority in the field of psychology, Rush thought. He didn't know how to go about finding a psychologist, and since there was an address right there in the book at home, he didn't need to think twice, so he came straight here. Besides, Queens wasn't far from Manhattan anyway.

  "I'm looking for Professor Said, I'm a big fan of his and I have some questions to ask him." Russ said, holding the book "Exploring Criminal Psychology" in his hands, to the female staff at the front desk. "Ah, please go ahead, Professor Said is inside." The staff member was very polite. "Really? No appointment needed?" "No, there are not many patients today." Russ followed the female staff as they walked forward, this wasn't what he had imagined. The hall and corridor were almost empty of people, he had thought that since Said had written a book, he must be a well-known psychologist, and to get an appointment with him would take several weeks in advance. But it was good this way, at least Russ hadn't made the trip for nothing.

  "Professor, I have an appointment!" The female staff member walked to a room and knocked gently on the door. "Come in." The door opened, and Russ walked in. This was Professor Said's office, a man in his 40s from the Middle East sat behind the desk. "A Middle Easterner?" Russ was surprised, as it was rare for someone from the Middle East to come to America to be a psychologist. He had only glanced at some interesting parts of "Criminal Psychology Exploration" and never read the author's introduction carefully. "Professor Said?" "Yes, that's me." "My name is Russ, I'm your reader, I've always liked reading your books." Russ held the book and walked to the desk, sitting down. "Oh my - isn't this 'Criminal Psychology Exploration'? So many years have passed since it was written, and there are still people reading it!" Said seemed surprised, as if he had found a kindred spirit. "Is that so? This book is from so long ago!" "Yes, I wrote it five years ago, didn't think anyone would still be reading it, haha, did you come to ask for my signature?" Said looked excited when he saw his own book. "No...I came to see a doctor." "Ah...seeing a doctor? That's not bad either, it's been a long time since I've had any patients." "How is that possible? You're so famous, there should be many people coming to see you." Russ said politely. "Hehe, yes, in the past, I did have some fame, and there were quite a few patients. But after the third Gulf War...you know how it is, our kind of people aren't very welcome in America." "I see..." "Right, do you have any...discomfort mentally? How did you feel like you had an illness?" Said asked. "Professor, I suspect I might have schizophrenia. This morning, I heard another 'me' speaking in my heart." "Oh? Schizophrenia? When did you start feeling this way?" "Just today, I'm not sure..." Russ looked a bit awkward in front of the professor. "Okay, relax." Said took out paper and pen from his drawer, "Let's do a test, I'll ask you some questions, and you answer."

  Psychiatrists diagnose illnesses in this way. You ask, I answer. From the answers, find the "germs" and through psychological testing, infer what kind of psychological obstacles or deficiencies the patient has. Compared to internal medicine or surgery doctors, this method seems to have very little technical content. But psychiatrists are undoubtedly the most difficult type of doctor to be.

  Ten minutes had passed. Lying on the couch, Russ answered all of Professor Said's questions. He sat up and asked in a low voice, "Professor, do I really have schizophrenia? Or... were the voices I heard this morning just hallucinations?" "You don't have schizophrenia," the professor replied while recording on paper, "it's more serious than that." "More serious?" Russ was almost startled to jump up, thinking that schizophrenia was already terrifying enough, and he had no idea there could be a disease even more severe. "Russ, you must have experienced many things that caused you great pain," the professor asked seriously. "Ah... yes... it's true." "Obviously, these pains have exceeded your psychological endurance limit. It's not just schizophrenia anymore." The professor put down his pen and said word by word, "I'm afraid you have severe dissociative identity disorder."

  "Split personality?" Russ knew the term split personality, but he could never quite figure out what the difference was between that and schizophrenia. Literally speaking, he understood it - a split personality meant someone had multiple personalities. Indeed, if that were the case, then the voice he heard earlier that morning, the one that called itself "JACK", would make sense. "Professor, you're saying... I have a dual personality? The voice I heard this morning was another personality of mine?"

  "Not... just."

  "Really?"

  "Most psychological tests only take three or four minutes, and the questions are finished. Rus, do you know why your test took ten minutes?" Sa'id's face drew close to Rus'.

  "The results of the test just now show that... in my many years of studying psychology... you have at least 3 or more hidden personalities!"