manynovel Chapter 852 The Sentinels Do Not Exist
Chapter 852 The Sentinels Do Not Exist
Chapter 852 The Sentinels Do Not Exist
When everyone finished the meeting, Bob sat on the side, leaning on his mop, listening to the whole thing. He was a little nervous and confused as he listened to the Avengers' impassioned speech—but he couldn't understand a single word.
However, even though he couldn't understand it, it didn't stop him from listening to everything and making way for everyone when they were ready to leave.
"Wait a minute, Bob."
When everyone else had left, Captain America was still there. He saw Bob watching everyone else depart. Then, as if remembering something, he pulled a card from a drawer and handed it to Bob: "This is your temporary Avengers identity card, Bob."
"Oh, I—" Bob looked a little flustered and laughed helplessly, "But I don't have superpowers, at least not yet, so it wouldn't be right for me to accept this."
"This is made especially for you, Bob. Maybe you won't use or even have superpowers, but that doesn't mean you have to live like this. This is proof that maybe you'll never have any superpowers, maybe you won't and don't want to be an Avenger, but if you want to, you can still be an Avenger."
Bob said "Oh" for a while, then realized it was just a temporary identification and quickly accepted it. The captain then asked about something else: "I remember Hornet designed a uniform for you using data from other Sentinels; have you seen it?"
"I—uh, that uniform is too Superman-esque. Even though it's gold, the huge S-shaped lines and the cape—"
Don't you like Superman?
"No—I just, I just feel like I'm definitely not Superman. Superman is a perfect person, like, uh—"
Bob initially intended to say "Captain," but then couldn't bring himself to say it, so he just gave an awkward laugh: "I don't think I'm Superman, and I certainly can't be like Superman. I wish I had the power of a knight in shining armor, even if I only had one hour of superpowers a day, and used that one hour to help others, I would be very satisfied."
The captain patted Bob on the shoulder.
"Spending one-twenty-fourth of your day helping others is already an amazing feat; you should believe in yourself."
Bob watched the captain leave, nodding repeatedly, and then resumed mopping the floor after the captain was gone. Unlike Tony or even Peter's expectations, Bob worked silently, neither humming nor thinking about anything else; he seemed like a complete taciturn person. But there was no other person, or another version of himself, in his head.
But this does not mean that nothingness does not exist.
Bob clumsily mopped the floor, and with each effort, he could feel his palms and fingers touching the mop handle, feeling the presence of his own bones. He would involuntarily imagine what his bones looked like, and wonder if he should tear off his skin, peel away the flesh, and see what his bones were like.
He stuffed the mop into the bucket to wash it.
Images flashed before his eyes, as if what was being stuffed into the bucket wasn't a mop, but a person's head—it seemed to be his own head, or perhaps someone else's—being forcefully shoved into the bucket again and again. As his breathing quickened, he hurriedly picked up the mop and continued mopping the floor.
He passed a table corner, which wasn't rounded. Looking at it, he began to imagine what would happen if his head hit it, preferably directly in his eye socket—would he die? Would his eyes rot?
No, it was just a fleeting association, wasn't it? Everyone experiences similar situations. Because Bob had no idea what to do and no ideas of his own, he just thought of whatever he saw.
It's all just nothingness.
After Bob finished mopping the interactive center floor, he washed his face. Involuntarily, the image of him shoving his finger into a faucet, pulling it out, and having his flesh peeled away, leaving only the finger bone, kept flashing through his mind. He wiped his face, then opened the refrigerator. The image of his head being shoved into the refrigerator door and then being crushed by it appeared in his mind. He took out a bottle of juice and drank it as he walked.
He walked out of the activity center and saw the protruding metal nut that held the light bulb in place on the ground. As he casually walked over, he saw in his mind the image of himself falling down and his head hitting that nut.
He then squatted down next to the telephone pole, looked around aimlessly, and drank his juice.
He thought about what he had just seen, what had happened in his head while he was listening to the Avengers' discussion and cleaning up.
When he sees other people, when other people come into his field of vision, what he sees changes. He picks up the mop and sees a broken, sharp wooden stick piercing a person's throat.
As he tidies up in the kitchen, he will see himself stabbing that person with a knife.
As he walked along the riverbank, seeing people pass by, he would imagine himself pushing them into the water.
The images were so simple; he could make them come true with just a flick of his wrist. Yet, these images also seemed to ignite a certain desire within him, a desire that made him yearn to actually do it.
It's like Bob cutting fruit in the kitchen might feel the urge to stab himself with a knife—for no reason other than simply because he's in the kitchen, he has a knife, and he can do it.
All of this is meaningless; he can overcome this fleeting desire, which will not last, as long as he focuses his attention even slightly.
As long as you keep your attention at all times, or completely shift your attention and stop focusing on these things, as long as you constantly remind yourself that this is wrong, this is incorrect, and this is utterly meaningless and meaningless.
I wouldn't know how to do these things myself.
Even though nothingness has always existed.
"Captain America was wrong, Spider-Man was wrong, everyone was wrong, Bob." Robert Reynolds muttered to himself as he squatted by a lamppost, sipping his juice. "The Sentinels don't exist, Bob can't be a hero. Don't tell me I don't have superpowers, even if I did—if I really did—I really would be Superman—"
How could he bear to see the image of himself smashing everyone to pieces at high speed every moment?
"Dr. Banner said nothingness exists, Bob, you know he's definitely right."
Bob finished the last sip of his juice and was about to throw the bottle into the nearby trash can, but he stood up instead, walked over, and threw the bottle away: "So the Sentinels don't exist."