Super Trick or Treat System

No fear equals fear. If you can sit between two people on any train, in any waiting room or office, in an invisible way, the conversation you hear will keep spinning on that topic. Of course, the debate seems to be on completely different things. The state of the country, gossiping died on the road, and the price of dental care increased; but without the metaphors, alluding, it was there, closely surrounding the core of the words. Although there is no discussion of the nature of God and the possibility of eternal life, we are happy with the painful details. The syndrome knows no borders. In the bathroom and seminar room, the same ceremony was repeated. With the tongue inevitably searching for the painful tooth again, we walked back and forth, returning to fear again,

When he was still in college and afraid to speak, Stephen Grace was taught why he was afraid. In fact, not just talking about it, but analyzing and dissecting his every nerve ending, looking for tiny horrors. In this investigation, he has a teacher:.

That was the time of the master. That is their season. In universities up and down in England, young men and women look for things on the east and west sides, making people follow like lambs. Steve Grace is just one of them. Quaid is the Messiah he discovered, and this is his misfortune.

They met in the student lounge.

"The name is Quaid," the man with Steve's elbow said in the bar.

"Oh."

"you are-?"

"Steve Grace."

"Yes. You are in ethics class, right?"

"Correct."

"I haven't seen you in any other philosophy seminars or lectures."

"This is my extra subject this year. I'm taking an English literature course. I can't bear the idea of ​​spending a year in the course."

"So you are passionate about ethics."

"Yes."

Quaid ordered the manufacture of double brandy. He doesn't look rich, and the next brandy will seriously deteriorate Steve's financial situation next week. Quaid quickly knocked him down and ordered another order.

"what do you have?"

Steve is feeding a half pint of warm beer, determined to last for an hour.

"It doesn't make sense to me."

"Yes you will."

"I'm very good."

"There is another glass of brandy and a pint of beer for my friend."

Steve did not refuse Quaid's generosity. A pint of half a glass of beer at his upcoming seminar on "Charles Dickens as a Social Analyst" is boring, to no avail. He yawned just thinking about it. As a social activity. "

Quaid studied his brandy, then dropped it.

He said: "Or be forgotten."

Steve looked at the man. About five years older than Steve's twenty. The clothes he wears are messy. Tattered running shoes, ropes, an off-white shirt, life is better: on it, a very expensive black leather jacket hangs heavily on his thin, tall frame. The face is long and plain. The eyes were milky blue and pale, making the color seem to seep into white, leaving only the fine needles of his iris behind the heavy glass. Lips are plump, like Jagger, but his face is pale, dry and tasteless. Hair, dirty blonde.

Steve concluded that Quaid could pass the Dutch-style bisque.

He did not wear a badge. They are common currencies that students are obsessed with, and Quaid is naked, without any hint of how he can have fun. Is he a gay, feminist, and rescue whale activist? Or a ***ist? For God's sake, what did he enter?

Quaid said: "You should have been an old Nordic."

"why?"

Quaid said: "They don't even bother to mark essays on that course."

Steve hasn't heard of it yet. Exaggeratedly gone.

"They just threw them all into the air. Face up, one. Face down, one."

Oh, this is a joke. Quaid is very witty. Steve laughed, but Quaid's expression remained unmoved by his own humorous attempts.

"You should be in northern Norway," he said again. "Anyway, who needs the Bishop of Berkeley. Or Plato. Or-" "Or?"

"It's all shit."

"Yes."

"In philosophy class, I kept looking at you-" Steve became curious about Quaid.

"-Do you never take notes?" "No."

"I thought you were either very confident or didn't care at all."

"None. I'm just completely lost."

Quaid grumbled and pulled out a pack of cheap cigarettes. Again, that is not the finished thing. You either smoked or you didn't smoke at all.

Quaid said unequivocally with contempt: "What they are teaching you here is not true philosophy."

"Oh?"

"We spooned a bit of Plato, or a bit of Bentham-no real analysis. Of course, it has all the correct markings. It looks like a beast: it even smells like a beast."

"What beast?"

"Philosophy. Real philosophy. This is a beast, Stephen. Don't you think?"

"I do not have-"

"It's wild. It bites."

He grinned and suddenly felt a wolf. "Yes. It bites," he replied. Oh, that makes him very happy. Fortunately again: "Bite". Stephen nodded. This metaphor is beyond him. "I think we should be uncomfortable with our subject." Quaid is heating up the whole education mutilation topic. "We should be frightened to mess up the ideas we should talk about."

why? "

"Because if we were philosophers, we would not exchange academic pleasure. We would not be talking about semantics; we would use language deception to cover up real concerns."

"What will we do?" The straight guy who started to feel like he was just not joking. His face is settled: his acupuncture iris has closed into tiny dots.

"We should approach the beast, Steve, don't you think? Reach out and touch it, touch it, milk it-" "What... uh... what is a beast?"

Obviously a little angry about the practicality of the query.

"This is the subject of any worthwhile philosophy, Stephen. This is something we worry about because we don't understand them. This is the darkness behind the door."

Steve thought of a door. Thought of the darkness. He began to see driving in a maze-like manner. Philosophy is a way of talking about fear.

Quaid said: "We should discuss what is most helpful to our psychology." "If we don't...we will risk..."

Quaid's weakness suddenly disappointed him.

"what?"

Quaid stared at his empty brandy glass, which seemed to be full again.

"Want another one?" Steve said, praying that the answer was no.

"What are our risks?" Quaid repeated the question. "Well, I think if we don't go out and find the beast-" Steve can see the crux.

"-Sooner or later the beast will come to us."

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