Chapter 190: Treatment

The very next morning, the Federation government officially released the project announcement for the Super Hadron Collider.

The Department of Public Relations had worked overnight to produce a special broadcast feature, highlighting the massive project that was slated for completion within three years. Its monumental size, complex structure, spectacular scale, the sprawling roster of 15,000 personnel, and the involvement of hundreds of heavyweight scientists all truly demonstrated the Federation’s burning ambition to advance its technology.

The public immediately erupted into passionate discussions. Whether they were ordinary civilians or academic scholars, everyone marveled at the sheer scale of the project and its profound significance.

The previous spacecraft modification projects had required massive manpower and resources, but they had been built strictly for survival; they were necessary infrastructure. This time was entirely different. This was for the pure pursuit of knowledge, for exploring the endless mysteries of the universe. It was the first massive mega-project launched by the Federation solely to advance theoretical science.

This was exactly what humanity should be doing!

Furthermore, under their current centralized economic system, building the collider did not drain the essential, life-sustaining resources that humanity lacked, such as water, organic matter, and inorganic salts, so daily life aboard the ship would remain completely unaffected. Because the government had built a strong foundation of credibility over the years, public opinion was almost unanimously positive.

Everyone now understood the vital importance of science in this dark universe. The short-sighted historical ignorance of people like the noblewoman who questioned Michael Faraday was a thing of the past.

Upon hearing the official news, the physics community was overjoyed and couldn’t contain their excitement. They were practically counting the days until the Super Hadron Collider was completed and operational. While the Noah did have a few small particle colliders onboard, their capabilities were nowhere near sufficient for cutting-edge high-energy experiments. The theoretical physicists had yearned for a machine like this for years.

While everyone outside was in high spirits and celebrating, Peter was in a terrible mood inside the psychiatric ward.

He had been locked in there for a day and a night. In his mind, he had creatively cursed Black to hell and back in every way imaginable.

But as if frightened by the verbal assault, the alien parasite simply hid in the depths of his mind and refused to come out. It was completely stonewalling him, stubbornly playing dead no matter how much Peter yelled.

After a long while, Peter got tired of screaming internally and finally slumped into a chair with a heavy thud.

He didn’t actually feel any satisfaction from the rant; it felt like he had been cursing at a brick wall. Frustrated, he could only pace back and forth across the room.

The room itself was actually quite nice. It was a spacious fifty square meters, equipped with a comfortable bed, a computer, a television, a desk, chairs, and a private bathroom. It was a massive upgrade from his cramped, standard-issue dorm room. Moreover, neither the doctors nor the security officers strictly restricted his freedom; if he wanted to leave the ward temporarily, he simply had to submit a formal request.

But Peter wasn’t angry about the accommodations. He was furious about the damn alien in his head and the group of quack doctors treating him!

He had been far too impulsive yesterday. In a fit of sheer panic and anger, he had blurted out almost everything, desperately hoping the doctors could surgically expel the alien lifeform from his brain.

But they didn’t believe a word of it! Instead, they officially diagnosed him with severe “dissociative identity disorder”?!

Heaven knew he didn’t have a split personality. What resided deep within his mind was a genuine, bona fide extraterrestrial!

Peter was stewing in his irritation when he suddenly heard soft footsteps approaching in the hallway. He quickly sat down, pretending to be a serious intellectual, and picked up a heavy physics textbook.

If there was one silver lining to this entire ordeal, it was that his assigned one-on-one psychotherapist was a beautiful young woman! And she was exactly his type.

After his body had been hijacked and he had thoroughly humiliated himself in front of Mei, he knew his chances with her were completely dead. But perhaps this psychologist, Dr. Chloe, was a possibility?

Lost in his daydreams, he heard three gentle knocks on the door. He quickly sat up straight, cleared his throat, and called out, “Come in!”

The woman who entered was about twenty-five years old, standing around 1.6 meters tall, with her hair tied back neatly. Both her figure and her face were exactly the kind Peter had always admired. This was his assigned therapist, Dr. Chloe Summers.

As a former rich kid, Peter certainly had plenty of experience picking up women. Back on Earth, countless women would have thrown themselves at him! Of course, Peter knew perfectly well that it had only been because of his massive bank account.

Now, however, Peter had no idea how to flirt with a woman, because the core values of civilization had drastically changed. Money used to be everything. But now…

Nowadays, women valued intelligence, logic, and scientific knowledge. Looks and manners were still important, but if a man lacked intellect and acted like an idiot, he wouldn’t be popular no matter how handsome he was.

Chloe sat down in the chair opposite Peter, feeling slightly awkward. It was natural for an ordinary citizen to feel intimidated sitting across from a prominent “Great Scientist,” especially after hearing the massive news broadcasts that morning about Peter’s superconducting material making the Super Hadron Collider possible.

But regardless of his status, Peter was her patient, and all patients had to be treated equally. A psychologist needed to remain relaxed and objective to provide effective counseling. Besides, Peter was an outstanding asset to the Federation; it was a tragic loss to civilization that his mind had fractured. She was determined to find a way to help him.

“Mr. Peter, after a full night’s rest, are you feeling any better today?” Chloe finally asked, her voice soft and professional.

“Ah? Much better, yeah, much better…” Peter replied. His body was stiff, and he felt extremely constrained. As soon as he opened his mouth, he felt incredibly stupid. Why am I stuttering like that?

He felt like a clueless amateur who had never spoken to a woman before; his supposed dignity as a “Great Scientist” vanished instantly. Perhaps it was because he had been a lazy recluse for too long, always carrying a decadent, slacker aura about him.

“Pfft!” Chloe couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his rigid, deer-in-the-headlights expression.

Surprisingly, that genuine laugh instantly eased the awkward tension between them. In truth, psychotherapy was meant to take place in a relaxed, comfortable environment.

“I’ll be your primary therapist during your stay here,” she said warmly.

The two spent the next while chatting casually about various lighthearted topics, including their past lives on Earth, daily routines on the ship, and science.

Psychological trauma was different from a physical ailment. Patients and doctors needed to build a strong rapport and establish deep trust; it was impossible to cure a fractured mind in a single session.

They got along well on most subjects, but whenever the topic drifted toward theoretical physics, Peter started sweating. With his extremely limited actual knowledge, it was impossible for him to bluff his way through a deep scientific conversation. He could only awkwardly steer the conversation back to mundane topics.

Fortunately, Chloe didn’t push him. She simply cooperated, expertly pivoting away from any subject that seemed to cause him distress.

Time flew by, and two hours passed in the blink of an eye. Peter hadn’t felt so relaxed in months.

The comfortable atmosphere made him feel like he was back in the good old days on Earth. There was no life-or-death pressure, and he wasn’t constantly surrounded by terrifying geniuses that made him feel violently inferior. It was just a nice, simple conversation.

As the session wrapped up, Chloe offered her concluding thoughts. “I’ve noticed you deliberately avoid discussing your scientific work. Perhaps you experienced a severe stressor or traumatic event related to your research. For now, you should just focus on resting and recuperating. Avoid overworking your brain.”

She paused, her tone turning gentle but serious. “Also… dissociative identity disorder is a very complex condition to treat. Once a secondary personality is formed, the subconscious will strongly resist any attempt to forcefully eliminate it. Therefore, we cannot just ’delete’ this other personality. Instead, we need to focus on identifying its triggers and slowly integrating it with your primary consciousness, so it functions as a normal emotional shift rather than a full takeover.”

“You should try to communicate with this alternate personality,” she advised, “but try not to be so openly hostile toward it. Antagonizing your own mind will only hinder the treatment process.”

With a warm smile, Chloe left a stack of therapeutic reading materials on his desk and departed the room.

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