It Works (Part 1)

The bustling press conference venue was filled with guests in suits, many of them important figures.

The seats on the left were occupied by military and political officials, including even a White House adviser. On the right sat prominent figures from the business world, including Pepper and Stark, Osborn, the head of Hammer Industries, and the bosses of more than twenty companies of varying sizes.

At the back right were members of the academic community, including Schiller, Strange, Connors, Yinsen, and more than thirty other PhD holders or professors from renowned universities. The people in those last two rows probably held over a hundred doctoral degrees between them.

Among them, Strange and Schiller sat together at the far right, directly behind Stark. Both were dressed in suits and sitting upright. Without even turning his head, Strange said quietly to Schiller, "That so-called theory about the Immortality Factor repairing the nervous system is such nonsense I can barely bring myself to read it."

"Whenever you can’t bear to read it, think about that string of numbers at the end of the contract."

"So for the next few months, I have to stand in places like this every day, reciting completely incoherent theories like some con artist or cultist?"

"No. Over the next few months, you’ll have plenty more to do, such as resigning, moving, and most importantly, counting money."

As he said that, the host invited Strange onto the stage. Strange stood, straightened his suit and tie, then walked to the front of the venue with a speech in hand.

"…Just as the research results previously released by Stark Industries and Osborn Group showed, as an expert in neurosurgery, after obtaining these precious experimental samples, I too discovered the secrets of self-repair and reverse aging within the human body…"

The drowsy Stark was tapped by Pepper. He jolted awake, rubbed his eyes, and looked around. When he noticed that the chair beside Schiller was empty, he quietly walked over and sat down beside him. "How much did you promise him to make him say that kind of nonsense with such a straight face?"

"In any case, far more than his salary."

"I thought he was the type with some professional ambition."

"Of course he is. He considers himself the best neurosurgeon in the world, and in fact, he is. You haven’t heard of his reputation? ‘God’s gift to the medical world.’"

"What an ego. I haven’t even called myself ‘God’s gift to the scientific world.’"

"I promised him a number he couldn’t refuse, then hired him as the attending physician for the new asylum. You know, his reputation is big enough that he’s qualified for the position."

"And you? I thought you’d serve as the attending physician yourself."

"No, I’m the dean. I don’t have time to personally treat patients. I have a lot to do."

"You two are such unscrupulous quacks," Stark concluded. "Anyone who goes to your hospital is really out of luck."

After a while, Strange finally finished speaking. When he returned, he found Stark occupying his seat. He and Stark glared at each other, neither willing to yield. In the end, Dr. Ethan had to bring Strange another chair.

Strange said to Stark, "You’d better make sure whatever salary that United Group is paying me is worthy of the brain damage caused by these terrible theories."

Stark snorted disdainfully through his nose. "Your annual salary isn’t even as much as Stark Industries makes in a minute."

"Don’t say that." Schiller then comforted Strange. "Later, I’ll introduce you to Senator Porter. He’s very interested in the Immortality Factor and happens to be looking for a personal wellness consultant."

"Wait." Stark looked at Schiller in confusion. "What do senators have to do with this?"

"You two aren’t collecting money from multiple sides, are you? You’re consultants for United Group, and both Osborn Group and I have to pay you salaries. You’re also employed by S.H.I.E.L.D., so Nick should be paying you too. There should be a salary for you in the asylum’s construction funding as well, and now you’re going to meet senators?"

Strange’s eyes shifted. "I think it’s necessary to broaden one’s career path appropriately."

Schiller agreed wholeheartedly. "Exactly, and they’re begging us to do it. Every gentleman on Capitol Hill wants to learn information about the medicine from me in advance, but you have to understand, I’m only a psychologist. I don’t understand the specific medical principles. That’s when I need professionals to help me."

"Oh, right, Stephen. Later, make sure you and Dr. Connors get your stories straight. Those senators have wellness consultants of their own. They’re your enemies…"

Strange gave a cold snort. "I’m only pretending to be a fraud, while those wellness consultants are real frauds with no learning or skill."

Then he leaned slightly toward Schiller and asked in a low voice, "Was what Stark said true? Are you planning to collect money from multiple sides?"

"Not me. Us." Schiller leaned in as well, and the two huddled together to talk quietly. Schiller said, "When a new technology capable of changing humanity’s future enters the market, what do you think is most lacking right now?"

Before Strange could answer, Schiller answered himself. "Every power wants someone to explain what exactly this thing is and what changes it can bring."

"As people who truly participated in the research, we possess the clearest right to interpret it. Everyone wants to compete for us. Not only are we collecting money from multiple sides, whoever offers the highest price gets our services."

"But I can’t actually explain anything," Strange said. "I’ve read Connors’s research report. We haven’t really figured this thing out…"

"You don’t need a real explanation. You only need to use the technical terms you’ve learned and repeatedly emphasize one sentence—’It works.’ Remember, that will be the main theme of the next few months. Keep repeating, ‘It works.’"

"Does it really work?"

"Don’t ask such a stupid question." Schiller glanced around at the suited senators and military representatives in uniform. "We’re just emotionless harvesting machines. What does it have to do with you how long these wealthy, powerful cash cows live?"

"I like that attitude of yours." Strange tilted his head toward him. "It seems I misunderstood you a little before. We actually have plenty in common."

"Don’t forget, once your resignation procedures at Presbyterian Hospital are complete, you’ll immediately start work at the asylum. The next two months are already fully booked. You’ll be very busy."

"What about the split?"

"Just as we agreed…"

Stark had heard the two whispering together for quite a while. Curious about what they were discussing but too embarrassed to openly lean over and eavesdrop, he said with affected disdain, "You two unscrupulous quacks definitely aren’t talking about anything good."

Strange and Schiller exchanged a look and said, "We may be unscrupulous…"

"…but we are absolutely not quacks."

After the press conference ended, Schiller brought Strange to an office in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s reception center. Nick was waiting for them inside. The moment Schiller entered, Nick walked over and shook Strange’s hand. "You must be the chief consultant for the Immortality Factor product line. Hello, I’m Nick Fury."

Strange looked around the S.H.I.E.L.D. office. Before he could ask any of the questions filling his mind, Schiller directly asked Nick, "The asylum’s construction should be in its final stages by now, right? When can it open?"

"The previous owner of that old bank took very good care of it. There aren’t actually many areas that need repairs. It should be ready to open in about a week."

"And the ribbon-cutting ceremony? Has that been arranged?" Nick and Schiller walked to a table and sat across from each other, while Strange sat beside them.

"No problem. Everyone who should attend will attend. Also, the asylum’s follow-up construction plans are already on the agenda, but you’ll have to discuss those projects with Stark and Osborn Group. They’re the real investors."

"Also," Nick looked at Schiller, "what do you plan to call this asylum? You can’t just call it the Immortality Factor Asylum, can you?"

Schiller smiled. "How about Arkham Asylum?"

"Arkham? That should be a surname, right?" Nick froze as soon as he said it, then he and Strange looked at the ring on Schiller’s hand.

Schiller continued, "I was only joking. The name isn’t important. You can decide it…"

"No, no, sorry. You don’t need to explain. The naming rights are yours. You can call it whatever you want."

Schiller looked at the two of them. Nick and Strange both wore extremely strange expressions, and he knew they must have misunderstood something.

When everyone reacted to a misunderstanding by saying, "No, you don’t need to explain," it was already very difficult to clear things up. And when they put on expressions that said, "I understand, I understand everything," there was no point even thinking about clarification.

Nick and Strange both knew something about the source of the cryogenic technology in Schiller’s possession. Schiller claimed, "I have a friend," but the more he said that, the more everyone believed he was concealing something.

"I have a friend." Those who knew, knew.

Regardless, the name was decided so carelessly. Because it had been decided so casually, when Arkham Asylum opened, no one knew why it was called Arkham.

Schiller had kept a relatively low profile before this. He wasn’t as famous in medicine as Strange, and he spent most of his time behind the scenes. Other than a few core figures, few people knew much about him.

As a result, most people assumed that the dean’s surname was Arkham. Schiller thus directly lost his real name, and most people called him "Warden Arkham" rather than "Dean Rodriguez."

The day of Arkham Asylum’s opening ribbon-cutting ceremony was a rare, brilliantly sunny day. At the ceremony, Schiller invited all his friends in this world and gave them concentrated training the night before.

"…Yes, I’m certain it works. Although I’m responsible for pathology research, I’ve also learned about some confidential research results. Of course I can tell you that…"

"Oh, right… that’s correct. I’m a high school student, and in the laboratory I only assist Dr. Connors. What? Have I seen the exact reports? I can’t reveal that to you. It’s confidential… Fine, I can only tell you that so many researchers are studying this thing. It can’t possibly be completely useless, right?"

"Indeed, I’m a doctor of physics, but I think you misunderstand the scope of physics. I did participate in this experiment, especially in the development of medical equipment related to the Immortality Factor. Do you think I’d spend so much effort on something useless?"

"Extending one’s life? You’re being far too conservative in estimating its effects, sir. As a psychology expert, I can responsibly tell you that it is also effective at regulating human emotions…"

"In short, don’t ask so many questions. I’m Stark! If Stark tells you it works, then it works!"

"I assume you heard…"

"Yes, that’s right, that’s what we all said…"

"What’s wrong with that?"

"Do I have to emphasize it again?"

"Of course it’s effective…"

"It works!"