Alice and Her Patient
Alice—not the one from Wonderland, mind you—had just graduated from Earth's very own TOP University. Full name? Totally Outrageous Place. Most students simply called it "that completely bonkers place."
Of course, the senior students had their own poetic breakdown of what "TOP" stood for:
Tears. Overwork. Panic.
The holy trinity of any proper mental breakdown—I mean, education.
Alice was lounging comfortably in her professor's chair, marveling at how luxurious it felt. "No wonder professors go mad with power," she muttered. "Their chairs are literally made of clouds and smugness." Compared to the scrap-metal torture devices in student classrooms, this was clearly next level.
Now, Alice wasn't supposed to be here. But fate, poor time management, and an aggressively lazy advisor changed that.
He had a sudden emergency and absolutely no desire to reschedule appointments. Upon spotting Alice still hanging around the office with a fresh degree in hand, he stared deeply into the void for exactly one nanosecond and said:
"You're subbing for me today."
Alice opened her mouth to object.
"I'll pay you two hundred," he added, raising two fingers like a wizard casting a money spell.
She paused for her own one-nanosecond mental calculation.
"Deal. But if something goes wrong…"
"Relax," the professor waved her off. "We've got a whole stockpile of half-graduated students. Just call one from the office phonebook and pin the mess on them. Their GPA is literally hanging by my mercy."
So now, here she was—inside what could only be described as a questionable "clinic." Actually, it used to be a storage room inside a small convenience store. The shopkeeper's wife had peeked in five times already, asking if they were finally selling that weird backroom.
Alice's mentor? The most dedicated squatter this side of the galaxy. He refused to give up this glorified broom closet, even as the shop owners kept walking past, side-eyeing all the strange visitors coming for "therapy."
Alice was still daydreaming about her favorite TV drama—the kind with scandalous plot twists and outrageous dialogue that perfectly matched her chaotic academic vibe—when the door knocked.
A tall, pretty boy with red lips, white teeth, and fragile dignity entered.
Alice instantly straightened up, slipped on her fake gold-rimmed glasses, and channeled her "I'm a certified professional" face, which she had practiced for exactly three weeks in the mirror.
"Please, take a seat, Mr. Allen," she cooed.
"What symptoms bring you here today?" she asked, internally screaming at the sheer handsomeness of her first patient.
Allen looked her dead in the eye.
"Doctor, I think I'm in love with myself."
Alice stifled a yawn. "Are you sure it's yourself you love? Have you considered the possibility that you're actually in love with… Newton?"
"…New what?"
"Newton. The guy who got hit by an apple and invented three laws just to flex."
Allen looked like he wanted to call the police.
But Alice was on a roll now, descending into her signature brand of academic nonsense:
"You see yourself in mirrors and shiny surfaces, right? But that's not real love. That's reflection. And who discovered light reflection?"
Allen blinked. "…Newton?"
"Exactly," she nodded like a TED Talk host.
"So who are you actually in love with?"
"…Newton?" he replied, mentally crumbling.
"Exactly!" she said, triumphant, as if she had just solved cold fusion. "You and Newton. A love story for the ages."
"And maybe," she added with a dreamy look, "you're in love with the mirror. The mirror is your medium, your lover, your cosmic soulmate. It's the glass barrier between you—like Romeo and Juliet, but make it existential."
Allen nearly fell off the couch. For the first time in his life, he doubted everything.
"Or maybe," she said, lowering her voice for dramatic effect, "you're just in love… with light."
"You see the brilliance in yourself. You bathe in your own glow. You're not obsessed with the body—you're intoxicated by the radiance of your soul refracted through the physical realm."
Allen sat up suddenly. "Doctor… have you been reading my diary?!"
Alice let out a breath of relief. Her nonsense had landed. Once again, she proved herself as TOP University's four-time bronze medalist in the "Persuasive Nonsense Olympics."
"No," she said, lips curling into a smirk. "I've just read Newton's Opticks. But I'm sure your diary's a lot more romantic."
Allen had a breakthrough.
Maybe he wasn't the one going insane.
Maybe it was the rest of the world, trying to label and decode him, that had completely lost the plot.
"Doctor… can I come again? Next time, I'll bring my diary. You can read it out loud."
Alice nodded graciously, her inner dramatic monologue soaring.
"When your real therapist comes back," she said sweetly, "just tell them you want to speak to the beautiful, 169 cm-tall, double-eyelid, fair-skinned, super-gorgeous, long-legged girl from their master's program."
If she had to take the fall later, well—her fellow students would just have to deal with it.
Love, therapy, and gaslighting were all in a day's work for TOP University's Finest.
爱丽丝和她的病人
爱丽丝——不是来自仙境的人,请注意——刚刚从地球自己的顶级大学毕业. 全名? 完全离谱的地方. 大多数学生简单地称它为"那个完全疯了的地方".
当然,高年级学生对"TOP"代表什么有自己的诗意分析:
眼泪. 过度劳累. 恐慌.
任何适当的精神崩溃的神圣三位一体——我是说,教育.
爱丽丝舒适地坐在教授的椅子上,惊叹于它的奢华感. "难怪教授们会为权力而疯狂,"她喃喃自语道. "他们的椅子实际上是由云彩和自鸣得意组成的." 与学生教室里的废金属酷刑装置相比,这显然是下一个级别.
现在,爱丽丝本不应该在这里. 但命运,糟糕的时间管理和一个咄咄逼人的懒惰的顾问改变了这一点.
他突然有紧急情况,完全不想重新安排预约. 当他发现爱丽丝仍然手里拿着一个新的学位在办公室里闲逛时,他深深地盯着虚空了整整一纳秒,然后说:
"你今天替我代班."
爱丽丝张开嘴反对.
"我会付给你两百,"他补充道,像巫师施放金钱咒语一样举起两根手指.
她停下来进行自己的一纳秒心理计算.
"交易. 但如果出了问题..."
"放松,"教授向她挥了挥手. "我们储备了一整套半毕业生. 只需从办公室电话簿中打一个电话,然后把烂摊子钉在他们身上. 他们的GPA真的靠我的摆布."
所以现在,她在这里——在只能被描述为有问题的"诊所"里. 实际上,它曾经是一家小便利店里的储藏室. 店主的妻子已经偷看了五次,问他们是否终于要卖掉那个奇怪的后屋了.
爱丽丝的导师? 银河系这边最敬业的擅自占地者. 他拒绝放弃这个光荣的扫帚柜,即使店主一直走过,侧目着所有来"治疗"的陌生访客.
当门敲响时,爱丽丝还在做她最喜欢的电视剧的白日梦——这种电视剧具有丑闻的情节转折和离谱的对话,与她混乱的学术氛围完美匹配.
一个高大漂亮的男孩,嘴唇红红,牙齿白,尊严脆弱.
爱丽丝立刻挺直了身子,戴上她的假金框眼镜,并引导她"我是一名经过认证的专业人士"的脸,她在镜子前练习了整整三周.
"请坐,Allen先生,"她小说.
"什么症状让你今天来到这里?" 她问道,内心对她第一个病人的英俊大喊大叫.
Allen看着她的眼睛.
"医生,我想我爱上了自己."
爱丽丝打了个哈欠. "你确定你爱的是你自己吗? 你有没有考虑过你真的爱上了...牛顿?"
"...什么新?"
"牛顿. 那个被苹果击中并发明了三条法律只是为了弯曲的家伙."
Allen看起来好像想报警.
但爱丽丝现在很顺利,陷入了她标志性的学术无稽之谈:
"你在镜子和闪亮的表面中看到了自己,对吗? 但那不是真爱. 那是反射. 谁发现了光反射?"
Allen眨了眨眼. "...牛顿?"
"确切地说,"她像TED演讲主持人一样点了点头.
"那么,你到底爱上了谁?"
"...牛顿?" 他回答道,精神崩溃了.
"确切地说!" 她胜利地说,好像她刚刚解决了冷聚变问题. "你和牛顿. 一个历代的爱情故事."
"也许,"她用梦幻般的表情补充道,"你爱上了镜子. 镜子是你的媒介,你的情人,你的宇宙灵魂伴侣. 这是你们之间的玻璃屏障——就像罗密欧和朱丽叶一样,但让它成为存在主义."
Allen差点从沙发上摔下来. 他有生以来第一次怀疑一切.
"或者也许,"她低声说,以获得戏剧性的效果,"你只是爱上了...光."
"你看到了自己身上的辉煌. 你沐浴在自己的光芒中. 你并不痴迷于身体——你沉醉于灵魂通过物理领域折射的光芒."
Allen突然坐了起来. "医生...你一直在读我的日记吗?!"
爱丽丝松了一口气. 她的胡言乱语已经落地了. 她再次证明了自己是TOP大学在"有说服力的无稽之谈奥运会"中四次铜牌得主.
"不,"她说,嘴唇蜷缩成一笑. "我刚读了牛顿的"光学". 但我相信你的日记要浪漫得多."
Allen取得了突破.
也许他不是那个发疯的人.
也许是世界其他地方,试图给他贴上标签和解码,完全失去了情节.
"医生...我可以再来一次吗? 下次,我会带上我的日记. 你可以大声朗读."
爱丽丝亲切地点了点头,她内心的戏剧性独白翱翔.
"当你真正的治疗师回来时,"她甜言蜜语地说,"只要告诉他们,你想和他们硕士课程中那个美丽,169厘米高,双眼皮,皮肤白皙,超级漂亮,长腿的女孩谈谈."
如果她不得不晚点接受堕落,好吧——她的同学将不得不处理它.
爱,治疗和煤气灯都是顶级大学最好的一天的工作