family history of mental illness

"Don't worry, it's not a big deal." The consciousness is still unhurried, full of temptation, "You just need to open your memory palace and provide me with a temporary container, and I will guide you, help you, and make you Integrity, to help you become stronger."

Brant lowered his eyes and silently let go of his defense without saying a word.

The consciousness let out a satisfied chuckle, "So now, if the target patient is found, should the psychiatric rescue system be activated?"

"Yes."

The moment he accepted it, Brandt felt that there was some unknown connection between his soul and that consciousness, and then his memory palace changed.

Brant is the type of person who has a photographic memory. For a long time, in order to manage all kinds of information recorded in his brain all the time, he borrowed the method of overseas pen pals to create a memory palace for his brain.

It is said to be a palace, but in fact it is just a dwelling of less than [-] square meters, with no extra decorations. The only thing that exists is the huge computer monitors on the four walls and a swivel chair in the middle.

All memories are classified and stored in the computer, important backup, privacy encryption, useless compression.

It had been working well and had no problems until half a month ago, when frequent nightmares made him doubt himself, and today, the guy who claimed to be the system made up for his lack.

Slowly, more furniture began to appear in the memory palace...

Brant looked at the memory palace where there were more and more things and the space was getting more and more crowded, and he couldn't help asking, "The sofa and bed are fine, why is there a bathtub? And this TV, what really exists? Does it make sense?"

"Of course the bathtub is for taking a bath, and the TV is for observing your life. Although I can directly share your visual nerves, if you use a TV, there will be a sense of ritual."

Bloody ritual.

As soon as the voice of consciousness fell, a magnetic wave appeared on the sofa, and gradually, the image of a human figure became more and more solid.

It was a boy who was eighty percent similar to him, with brown hair and green eyes, wearing an oversized bright purple suit, with a large tome spread out on his lap, and a very well-behaved sitting posture, not at all like he could make that kind of deceptive voice exist.

"You're the...mental care system?" That's the name, right?

The young man nodded reservedly.

Brandt looked at him, suddenly feeling cheated.

"Then why do you want to be like me?"

"It's not you, it's your father." The boy corrected.

"But my father doesn't look like this." Recalling the tall, strong and rough man before the age of 5, and then looking at the delicate boy in front of him, Brandt's eyes revealed suspicion.

In front of the boy, he turned on the display and retrieved a photo of a middle-aged man.Brown hair, blue eyes, beards, and spider web tattoos on the elbows, in short, there is no other similarity to the boy in front of him except for hair color.This is intercepted from the memory he just recovered, and the preservation time is still very new, "This is my father, Joseph Driscoll."

"Are you questioning me?" The boy flipped through the pages of his book, a little aggrieved, "That's what it says in the book, how do I know why, but there is no doubt that your father looks like me." He said arbitrarily unilaterally ended the conversation, "Okay Brant, the chat is over, it's time for us to get down to business."

"..." Brant choked, "Okay, what is serious business?"

Satisfied with the other party's understanding, the young man reopened the tome, cleared his throat, and said solemnly: "The mental illness rescue system has been activated, the host has been successfully bound, and you have the basic ability [God's Middle Finger], which will... ..."

The boy paused suspiciously, glanced at Brant, then looked away as if nothing had happened, and continued, "Well, it will play a huge role in your future work. You won the junior title... um..."

He paused again, and this time the pause was a bit longer, before continuing: "You have obtained the junior title [Psychiatrist operating without a license], and the number of cured patients is currently 0, please continue to work hard, the host."

After listening to the boy stumble and finish reading, Brant's feeling of being deceived became more obvious.

"God's...middle finger." He slowly read out the name of this shameful skill, "How do I use it?"

"Insufficient permission to view, please ask the host to explore by himself."

"What's the effect?"

"...The host please explore by yourself." The boy started flipping through the book again.

Brant choked, and pointed out sharply, "You probably don't know at all."

The boy looked away suspiciously and began to play dead.

Brandt finally confirmed that this system is really unreliable!Anything that helps him is strong, and anything that makes him complete, is all made up by the other party. He only got a half-baked guy who is extremely unskilled in his business and even got his father's image wrong.

Returns cannot be returned, Brant tried to accept, "Do you have a name? We can't call you the Psychiatric Assistance System every time, it's too long-winded."

The boy thought for a while, then took a look at his current image in the mirror, and said with satisfaction, "You can call me Dad."

Brandt: "..."

"Then... Daddy?"

Brandt silently exited the memory palace without saying a word.

This system is not normal, it is safer for him to stay away.

Looking at the time exhausted physically and mentally, only 2 minutes have passed since he entered the memory palace, and in the eyes of outsiders, he will be stunned.Brandt remembered the skill name full of slots again. He looked at the comatose teenager and raised his middle finger tentatively.

He poked the boy's face with his finger, and poked his chest again, but nothing happened.

After thinking about it, he poked the boy's forehead again.

Almost the moment his fingertips touched his forehead, the boy suddenly opened his eyes. His eyes were still full of confusion and anxiety. Brandt felt his consciousness extend out from his fingertips and penetrate into the boy's body. brain.

It was a very wonderful experience. The boy's brain began to gradually become transparent. Every groove in the cerebral cortex, even every tiny neuron, was easily captured by the scattered tentacles of consciousness.

He clearly felt that this was a chaotic brain.

Nerve fibers were tangled with each other, brain cells died in pieces, and there was a large hard lump of blood in the area close to the frontal lobe.

He tried to manipulate the tentacles of consciousness, sort out the tangled fibers and neurons, and tentatively touched the tentacles to the blood clot.

At the same time, countless broken and chaotic memories rushed into Brant's brain.

In the chaos, some semi-mechanical voice sounded, as if saying...

"...Unlock the functional area [Empathy]..."

The dizziness made him close his eyes subconsciously, unable to pay attention to the faint pain of the squeezed brain. He slowly sorted out these memory fragments, and only then did he understand what happened to this boy.

He was born in a city called Gotham, and he was at the bottom of society.He was adopted and trained by the city's vigilantes and became the best version of himself.He was kidnapped by the vigilante's nemesis, who broke all his bones with a crowbar.He was bombed, buried, taken away by an elder, drowned in a warm pool, resurrected by...

Resurrected from the dead...

Does such a thing really exist in this world?

However, comparing the young man's mental state before and after his resurrection, and looking at his battered brain at the moment, the sequelae of this operation are a bit too serious.

The tentacle of consciousness still stayed in the bruised area, and the blood clot shrunk a bit visible to the naked eye, and the tentacle of consciousness became heavy and sluggish. Brandt tried to withdraw it, but the tentacle slowly bypassed the functional area and retracted to his fingertips.

It was a wonderful experience. After regaining his consciousness on the middle finger, he felt that his entire arm became extremely heavy, as if it was difficult to move as if a heavy object had fallen, but the young man's lake-green eyes gradually became clear and calm.

He is getting better.

Brandt looked down at the finger and exclaimed, "Is this the middle finger of God?"

"What are you mumbling about?" Neil didn't light the car for a long time, and went to the front of the car to fiddle with it for a long time, but still failed, "This car is hopeless, why didn't you come to help me, and just stayed behind in a daze."

"He's awake," Brant said.

"How is it?" Neil came around from the front of the car and looked at the boy. He breathed a sigh of relief, "It seems to have stabilized." He asked the boy again, "Do you remember what happened?"

The boy kept a cold face and said nothing, but he did not violently hurt anyone anymore.

Although Neil is a liar, he didn't bother to shirk his responsibility. He tried to communicate with the boy again, "I accidentally bumped into you just now. If you are injured somewhere, I can call an ambulance for you, or if you think there is nothing serious, I will I can also give you some compensation."

"No...ambulance."

The boy finally opened his mouth. His voice was hoarse and rough, and he spoke very slowly, as if he hadn't opened his mouth for several months, and he couldn't speak for a while.But being able to communicate is an improvement in itself.

"Or where do you want to go?"

Waves rose in the boy's eyes, and he slowly said the name, "Gotham, I'm going to Gotham."

Brandt said strangely: "So Gotham is a place name? But I searched on Google before, and there was no result."

"It seems that we still have to find Mosquito. He may have information on this." Mosquito is their logistics personnel, equipment warehouse, high-tech talents, and also an excellent intelligence officer. They may be able to find information from places they have never heard of. Mosquitoes that get pleasantly surprised.

He asked the boy, "Then you want to go with us now?"

The boy nodded.

Neil said, "I'm Neil Caffrey, you can call me Neil."

Brant followed suit: "Brant Morgan"

Brant and Neil made simple self-introductions, which also reflected their friendliness and harmlessness. As short-term travel partners, a certain degree of mutual trust is a necessary condition.

The young man looked at them silently for a long time, and seemed to have figured it out. Finally, he pursed his lips, lowered his eyes, and spit out his name.

"Jason."

He said, "Jason Todd."

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The frog is updated at nine o'clock, and the update at other times is to catch bugs!

We Ah Tong boys are definitely not a simple and single system, but I will not tell you the real identity, hahahahaha

In fact, Xiaobu's father is already obvious, really obvious_(:з」∠)_

I couldn’t sleep at night recently, and I woke up early to see that a pile of hair fell off the head of the bed. After thinking about it, I probably got bald because of Xinkeng’s collection and comments. Which little angel will save the frog’s hairline? [Selling cute (( ?ω?)