Dow and Carbon-Based Monkey Breeding Guidelines

Chapter 902 The Prologue of Valpurgis

Jania slipped out of the house through the bedroom window while Hannah went downstairs to look out.She landed silently in the front yard, and two policemen noticed her but ignored her.She pretended that she wanted to go for a walk because she was bored, and the adults would smile tolerantly and let her mess around.Leaving the front yard was smoother, even though her brother was sitting in front of the living room window, and Hannah simply had to pretend to look at his phone to divert his attention.

Jania doesn't want anyone to know where she's gone, and of all "anyone", the one who needs to be guarded the most is her lying brother.She quickened her pace and ran out of the community, leaving behind those idle and terribly annoying peers on the street, and went straight to the wooded area on the edge of the town.

The weather was overly sunny.The sun had polished every leaf to a shiny and bright color, and there was an overly strong scent of jasmine in the air, which made Jania feel a little out of breath.She stopped before the last ramp and looked back at the town behind her.People will never get tired of seeing the scenery. Those fairy-tale houses, the forest road in full bloom, this oil painting of summer in the countryside is so dazzling under the sunshine.It seems to draw the soul into it, and then it burns into a handful of ashes.

This is where she was born and raised.Jania murmured silently in her heart.Regenberg was her homeland, her "dominium," as Kepler Köln joked.Everything here was so familiar to her that she should not be afraid—she should not be unfamiliar with what she saw.

There was a gust of wind blowing from the direction of the woods.The back of Jania's neck was soaked in a cool dampness, like falling into the morning mist in early spring.Looking up at the sky, she could only find a few white cumulus clouds among the intertwined eaves, that is, the kind of cotton-like, light and soft clouds.It is this simple cloud structure that people often see in the background of comics.As a child, Malcolm told her that those usually symbolized sunny days, as long as they didn't pile up and change further.

Jania thought of the bamboo pole in her bedroom, and the mysterious person who left it to her.She imagined Chilabin's ugly, narrow smile floating in the shadows of the clouds, like an ape version of the Cheshire cat.They had talked about clouds that stormy beach night.The commonality of cloud and hero stories.Fight the scorching sun in a ferocious torrent, then steam up to the heavens.A path of ascension for the soul.

There is another way.The road from top to bottom.Jania felt the bandages on her palms soaked with sweat.This bandage was made by herself, and she didn't let others intervene, so I'm afraid it wasn't handled properly, but she knew that this was the safest way.They couldn't go to the community doctor they were familiar with as her mother wanted, because the wound was obviously weird.As long as professionals take a closer look, they will understand that it cannot be an ordinary knife wound.Her brother also refused to see a doctor, but he asked professionals to help.

The wind from the woodlands grew louder and louder until it became a high and low pitch.The rapid and slow swaying of the sea of ​​trees has turned into an ominous chorus in Jania's ears.A tune that does not belong to Regenberg at all.She closed her eyes and sucked the air forcefully into her lungs, and the overripe, moist aroma waited for an opportunity to mix into her breath.But it's not Jasmine's fault, it's something else.

Some kind of foreign matter has mixed into her homeland, making all the familiar melodies in life seem ridiculous and plausible.She saw that the cumulus clouds in the sky had a tendency to gather.The dark and gloomy colors are scattered at the bottom of the clouds.The weather forecast for the past few days has been all wrong, and there will be a lot of rain soon today.

Weather is a complex system.Even if it shows all the data, people still can't fully understand how the system works.Jania remembers that the weather forecast for 24 hours was more than 80.00% accurate, which means that meteorologists still get it wrong.Before something actually happens, they can only judge the trend and possibility, and the final impact of any disturbance factor on the entire system, no matter how smart and professional people are, they cannot grasp it in real time.

Jania felt the same way now: invaded, out of control, unpredictable.She couldn't help but want to defend her territory, just as Leo must watch and warn every stranger.In fact, Leo would not bark at every stranger, it has its own way of distinguishing likes and dislikes.And Jania, as she pushed on in the gusts that hinted at the pre-shower, asked herself to rediscover the matter.She may be misunderstood, she may be biased, as she was with Ermia Lyman.

Consider Lyman, who is infatuated with Hannah.He was a product of circumstance—Jennia described it as such because she felt it was an acquired influence.She sees many of her parents in herself, although she and her parents had very different childhood experiences, no doubt a result of heredity.Where's Hannah?Hannah is not like any of her parents. There is no trace of Hannah in the traditional blue-collar couple, and they have no idea what their daughter usually thinks.Hannah is shaped by her own unique mind and highly developed information technology.

As for Ermia Lyman, born in a scholarly family with a golden spoon in her mouth, she grew up with a resistance to the vulgar and superficial modernity.He probably hasn't watched much TV, and he has even more doubts about Internet culture.It’s not that the Lehmans don’t understand what the Internet is about in technical terms, they just treat it as an extension of the library and postal system and categorically deny that there’s anything entirely new about it.Ermia Lehman always used characters or books at least 200 years ago as examples, almost like a vampire who just escaped from an old castle.Jenny couldn't imagine how a person could be born into such a bland and dry family without feeling suffocated.

But that wasn't why she disliked Lyman.Not because of his dullness, backwardness, or denial of all the virtues of the modern spirit, but precisely because of his classic benevolence.On that Friday evening, she walked out of the school gate and walked in the fields by the lake, where Ermia Lehmann was thinking about their arrangements for the benefit performance.He recognized her, and they exchanged a few polite words as Hannah's inseparable friend.

Just then, a shadow appeared across the lake.He was a very old lame man, wearing a badly worn olive leather hat, and carrying an unusually large traveling bag.The whole body of this man was bloated and dirty, but the arm holding the stick was terribly thin.After all this time, Jania could recall only the most memorable detail of that sunset silhouette: the wrist so thin that it blended into the shadow of the stick, so that from her perspective it no longer looked like a man leaning on it. Instead of a wooden stick, a strangely long insect-like leg protruded from the human shoulder, precariously supporting this huge pile of things and crawling forward.

She watched the scavenger walk along the lake, picking up discarded bottles and cans from the thick rushes along the shore, and wondered what it was all about.disease?drug?Mental problems?She tried to find clues in the man's gestures.And now Lyman saw what she had seen.He uttered a long sigh, the tone was full of melancholy, with a poetic temperament that moved the listener.

Jania looked at him bewildered.Lyman sat on the stone by the lake, with his legs together like a noble lady, with one hand on his knee and the other on his chin, staring pitifully at the scavengers on the other side.His eyes were moist and his handsome face was sad.

"Unimaginable tragedy." He said to himself, "What is the meaning of such a miserable life?"

He meant it, at least Jania couldn't prove it otherwise.His exclamation contained a maturity and pessimism beyond his peers, shock and disappointment at the misery of the world - and that made Jania furious all of a sudden.At that time, she was extremely surprised and annoyed. She really wanted to hold Lehman's shoulders and shake him hard for a while, shaking his head that was wandering in the misty clouds of previous centuries to separate the wet and dry.what's the matter with youShe really wanted to ask him.What the hell is wrong with you?Morphine was invented 200 years ago, and mental asylums existed before the fourth century AD!Madness, epidemics, poverty, disasters, wars... These sufferings run through the entire human history!What is unimaginable about these?Don't you ever mention a word in those classics you chewed over and over again?It has been 50 years since the Internet was invented, but you have lived until today to find out that there is such a tragedy in the world?
She couldn't stand Lyman the way he was.The sad face of that beautiful scholarly boy.The kind of fateful tragedy that attributes the ending of the scavengers to some kind of irresistible generality, stood by and watched carefully, and then sighed without lifting the buttocks.Now she can't say it's necessarily a personal problem with Ryman, since she's seen that in quite a few artists.They see the inner world as real and the outer world as a glimpse from which they draw inspiration.In that case, arguing with them about standards of morality and respect would be like forbidding a dog to smell a telephone pole.

Even Malcolm lives in his own world.He also has the common traits and flaws of artists, but the position of that world is lower, closer to dust and roads than to flowers, cakes or elegant ancient books bound in vellum.But at heart, neither Marr nor Lehmann are inquisitive people.They stop at a grand experience beyond self-experience, a kind of artistic tragic intoxication, but they don't really care about specific people and things.Therefore, whether a scavenger got here because of illness or gambling, Lehmann would never really care, because those are just means of expression of "impermanence" and "destiny".Ermia Lyman was thought to be good-natured, and even Hannah thought him shy, but in Jania's eyes, what was the difference between such outrageous compassion and outright contempt?
So, in the evening when she met the scavengers by chance, Jania learned some characteristics of personality types.It's not so much that she has become more aware of Lyman, but rather that she has a better understanding of herself.She, Jannía Dubois, although dreamy and dreamy like Mal, had at heart her mother's preoccupation with concrete things rather than concepts.She couldn't bear to sit there and lament about something that couldn't be helped, like fate, political circumstances, social prejudices, economic laws... whatever grown-ups like to use, she just didn't like to chew on these concepts.What she needs is to move her body, to lower her head and grasp every specific person and specific problem.If the way for artists to fight against their own insignificance is to devote themselves to creation, then her way to fight against fear is to act, walk, run, don't think about what will happen at the end, and only focus on the nearest problem at hand.

Now the question at hand is: Is a murderer justified in brutally killing a murderer?And a further question is: Is it justified to publicly torture and kill innocent people?Regarding these two questions, Jania's own opinion is, no.

It's like killing an animal.People are killing animals every day, she said to herself.But killing a dog for fear of rabies and publicly posting bloody and cruel torture videos online are two different things in the eyes of civilized society, because the latter really wants to torture the audience.By torturing animals, the executioner is showing off his status to the audience. Pain and death are imposed on livestock, while demonstrations and intimidation are directed towards the same kind.This is just plain malice.

Lot was that dog last night.Faced with a mad dog as dangerous as "the godly", Jania herself would not hesitate to kill it, but she would not play with it cruelly, let alone in front of Hannah or her parents.If that thing--the thing that used to be leaning against the record player speaker--had any respect and concern for her brother, it could have sent Lot to the police, hanged himself in the woods, or even used a bread knife. Cutting the throat is also better.It just performed such a perverted suicide show in front of them!

This is killing chickens and monkeys.Jania could only think so.She could be wrong, too, because she didn't know what the thing had done to Lot, and whether it could do the same to her.What would happen if she told her brother the true face of this good friend?Maybe one day she will stand on the roof by herself, hum a few favorite folk songs, and then plant her feet on the concrete floor.This kind of imagination made her feel like there was a surge of ice water in her veins, and even her steps were as empty as walking on a soft bed.But she refuses to give up halfway, because the way she fights her fear is not to escape into the trance of art, not to hide under the covers and pretend to sleep, but to keep moving.

step forward.Go one step further.The wind blowing from the woodland has faintly resisted her, implying that the weather is about to change.The secluded green wilderness unfolded layer by layer in the wind, and the interlaced layers of depth made Jania lose her way for a while.She worried that she had really wandered in a foreign land, until the green hill covered with scallions appeared under the condensed clouds.

A piece of ruins covered with dead vines appeared in front of my eyes.A hundred years ago, there stood a stone house called "Wagner Church" by the locals, but now there are only limestone scattered here and there.There used to be a cemetery behind the church, but the tombstones have all been destroyed.There is no longer any reason for people to remember this old place, but Leo prefers this piece of grassy wilderness.It was what led Jania to discover it, and Jania shared the secret base with her brother.

It's no longer a secret. "Meet me at the Wagner Church Ruins." - When this note appeared on the desk in Jania's bedroom, she knew it was no coincidence that it had been chosen there.This person, this unknown thing, knew her and her brother, it might even know Regenberg's history.The note was even in German!
The person who left the message is sitting on the ruins of the old church at the moment.As Jania stepped onto the swaying grassy knoll, the figure facing the woodland turned her head and smiled in her direction.In the well-lit field, this time Jania could clearly see each other's eyes.It was a pair of unfocused, almost blind or dead eyes.

The wound on Jania's right hand was throbbing again.She had seen this kind of weird look twice last night.Yes, indeed twice, in the broken mirror room of Pierre's house, the man who was pronounced dead by Lot also opened his eyes, but behaved like a person who couldn't see clearly.She didn't have time to think about it at the time, and she thought it was some kind of weirdness caused by Lot.But now she could tell, whether it was in her brother or Mr. Gloves, this look represented another strange participant.

She faltered at the border between the hills and the plains.The high and low Sao Feng was humming an ominous melody, reminiscent of water instruments and atonal music.Jania deliberately controlled the rhythm of her breathing to relieve the restless suffocation in her chest.There were so many questions for her to figure out, but her tongue seemed to be stuck on the roof of her mouth.She reached into her belt and pulled out the note she'd found when she was looking for bandages.

"It's you," she said.

The wind suddenly picked up.The scene in front of him was more colorful than ever before.Greenness melted and twisted in her eyes, like algae swaying on the surface of ripples.Jania was taken aback and loosened her fingers involuntarily.The note was immediately snatched away by the strong wind and sank in the flowing emerald waves.Now no one in this world can know why she came here, except the person who wrote her the note.

The inviter stood up from the mossy pile of rubble.The sound of the wind haunts him, singing his every move. As he walks around on the top of the hill, his slow steps gradually arouse manic and depressive sounds in the hearts of the viewers.When he spoke, the drawn-out tones were singing.

"Me," he said, as if that answered everything.Before Jania could think through her next question, the man on the hill stopped and took off the glove from his left hand.The tightly wrapped bandages had long since been removed.He turned his head and smiled at her again, and in front of Jania's eyes was a scorched black hand that was almost carbonized.

(End of this chapter)