Chapter 1450: Study on Manipulation (16)_1

Split, overlap, iteration, regression.

Thoughts spin in the dark and empty psychic space, like leaves lost in a whirlpool, too many scattered thoughts to sort out. Bruce has never felt such deep fear of losing control of his brain as he does today.

But this fear is self-inflicted, he is trying to observe himself from another perspective. Or not just one, but thousands of perspectives, all of them he owns, and yet none of them are his.

It sounds almost like metaphysics, but it's happening in reality. Bruce realizes that he can handle the idea of fragmenting his thoughts much better than he imagined, perhaps because he'd pondered greater shatters than mere scraps, speculated on how Schiller's personality fragmented like a snowflake.

What baffles him is not the degree of acceptance, but the feasibility of manipulation. He has tried countless times, but he just can't generate two or more thoughts within one brain, much less unite them in cooperation.

Attempting to separate one perspective again, Bruce finds his thinking slowing down, as if dreaming of another self. But this sleepwalking state does no good for rational thinking.

He can't make all the perspectives conscious. Typically, when one perspective engages in logical thinking, the rest wander aimlessly, or just tediously verify the thought from the first perspective. This is not what Bruce intends.

Human thinking is limited, humans can't see themselves from the perspective of others.

However, to some extent, people with dissociative identity disorder can do this. Their alternative personalities can objectively evaluate the other selves, a valuable objectivity that allows one to accurately judge their situation and place. This is the result Bruce seeks.

One personality acts subjectively while another evaluates objectively, thus he'd never be entrapped by the prejudices, narrow-mindedness, and blind spots of subjective perspective. He would look at every matter in the world from a broader perspective.

Bruce awakens again in pain after countless futile attempts. He has thought about giving up, but he can't afford to, because now he is undergoing sensory deprivation confinement, a private revenge from Amanda.

In an environment devoid of sensory perception, humans can do nothing but think. If Bruce doesn't try repeatedly, he has no other way to pass the time. He truly regrets not having built a Thought Palace.

Indeed, Batman doesn't have a Thought Palace. Not that he doesn't have the ability to build one, it's just he opted for another method after weighing the pros and cons.

If Schiller's mind were a computer, High Tower would be the entire computer system, powerful and comprehensive, with a very convenient frontend.

If Schiller wants to access some memory files, he just opens the specified folder, that is, the database and library in High Tower, and searches by time, location or keywords.

For ordinary people, this approach is beyond belief, because their minds are comparatively disorganized, with most memories being mixed together, untouched and unsorted. If they learn to organize the data in their brains, they will take a big step in memory efficiency.

But Batman's thinking is even more incredible. He has a computer system, but no front end, no desktop, no folders, no visible stuff. When the computer is turned on, it's just a blue screen. To do anything, he must code.

His psychic space is void, no architecture, no memory, no self-image. If someone invades his Memory Space, they will get nothing and can't trace anything.

Yet, when Bruce wants to pull some memory, there is a special thought process, like coding in the System. Then it guides him precisely to the desired memory fragment. It's concise, fast, and accurate.

Both methods have their advantages and disadvantages. The Thought Palace is greatly beneficial for memory classification and organization. It can refine memory categories and keep memory fragments fresh with graphical memory techniques, preventing loss.

But its drawback is that the search takes time. Even for Schiller, it takes some time to search for a large number of memory details in a short time. If he doesn't search actively, even if something familiar is right in front of him, he can't recall it at all.

The advantage of Batman's method of thinking is that he can change the underlying code at will, alter the way memory is triggered, and even set up a reminder mode. When he sees something, as long as it has appeared in his memory, that memory will instantly pop up as a reminder, so he won't miss any details. This is also a core component of his excellent detective talent.

But the disadvantage is that only Batman can use this method, because it relies heavily on his highly computational brain. For ordinary people, it's already hard to imagine a simple operating system, let alone writing code.

In short, Schiller's way of using the Thought Palace is like a common household computer. It's more complicated but also more solid. Ordinary people can also refer to this method. Using the mouse to point is inefficient, but the logic is easy to understand.

Batman's way of thinking is like a computer system debugger. A single line of code can complete tasks which typically take a normal system half a minute to finish by clicking. It provides high freedom to edit at will. But without computer-related knowledge, one would be totally helpless.

The problem Bruce is confronting now is that he has split personality traits like Schiller, but he does not have the matching running environment. The key part of the system has been updated and the run-time library has been completely destroyed. Bruce wants to rebuild it, but he hasn't figured out the running logic yet.

In the darkness, Bruce took perhaps a ten-second break before plunging back into coding.

Batman is just strong-willed, that doesn't mean he's immune to pain. From anyone's perspective, repeatedly coding in an environment where thinking is the only option, and expecting a smooth run from the collision between a few characters is torturous and absurd. It's even more painful than the harsh sensory deprivation confinement.

More than two hours later, when Bruce opened his eyes again, he couldn't help groaning in pain. He tried to twist his head a bit, but his restraint suit and neck brace prevented him. Trapped, he remained in place.

After further three hours, Bruce began to despise broccoli.

After two more hours, Bruce started to use the exhaustion method.

Another hour passed, the top of the shit pile of codes fell, but it still couldn't run smoothly.

After another two hours, Bruce suddenly heard a slight sound, but he couldn't confirm whether it was an illusion.

Bruce's code writing speed had been too fast before, resulting in an exceptionally large pile of shit. The simulator he built couldn't accommodate so much shit. He decided to borrow a bit of space from the host machine, meaning that his main visual perception, the most commonly used system in his thought process, was also invaded by chaotic and redundant codes.

This led to Bruce constantly experiencing the type of hallucinations one would have after taking drugs, and he was not fully awake.

This was one of the downsides of having too much administrative authority. When Bruce was determined to mess with his own thinking system, no safety measures could limit him from tinkering with the parts that were running smoothly on instinct, which could lead to symptoms of confusion in his normally functioning main visual system.

However, soon, Bruce realized that the sound was not a hallucination. As the sound grew louder, he recognized it as the footsteps of a robust human being.

Bane?

Bruce thought with some doubt, half of his attention still on coding. The other half couldn't focus as well as before because his main vision was overwhelmed by the muddled codes, making it impossible for him to infer why Bane would appear here in the few seconds it took for the footsteps to approach.

The heavy footsteps stopped in front of his room. Bruce leaned his head inwards, allowing one side of the neck brace to fully support his weight. Somewhat at a loss, he uttered, "... Bane?"

"It's me." A low voice answered. From the sound of the fabric rustling, the person seemed to have squatted down by the door.

"Why are you here?" Bruce, devoid of energy for roundabout talks, asked straightforwardly: "You should be locked up in a special detention cell like me. How did you get out? And why did you come here?"

Bane remained silent for a long time, so long that Bruce had cleaned up about one percent of the pile of shit codes before he finally spoke, "You seem a bit off. Did the drugs get to you?"

"No, that is not possible." Bane contradicted his own conjecture. He continued, "Giving prisoners drugs under sensory deprivation, allowing them to indulge in illusions to spend time, is the greatest form of leniency. Amanda is clearly not this lenient, especially with you."

"I didn't take any drugs." Bruce grimaced in response. He strongly disapproved of this, hence he had to clarify this first. Because the hallucinations made him unusually frank, he added, "I do not accept substances with unstable characteristics into my body, the same goes for food."

"A psychiatric episode?" Bane hypothesized.

"No."

"You have no mental illness, or are you not having an episode?"

"The latter."

"Psychiatric patients usually believe they are not having an episode." Bane asserted confidently.

Bruce suddenly let out a deep chuckle, plunging Bane into a long silence.

Clearly, Bruce's reaction was not what he had anticipated. On the contrary, Bane was unsure whether he should seize this opportunity when the other party was mentally unstable to extract the information he wanted.

Bane decided to probe a bit more.

"Are you Batman?"

"I am."

Bane fell silent again, sighing lightly as if unsatisfied with the current situation. Then he said, "Your mental condition is not good right now. I'll go back to my cell and come again tomorrow."

"Goodbye, Bane."

With heavy steps, Bane left. When he came again the next day, the first thing Bruce said to him was, "Good morning, Bane".

Bane was sure that he was having an episode.