Chapter 467:

No fear equals fear. As long as it belongs to others.
In the next week or two, Steve asked the curious Mr. Quaid casually. No one knows his name.
No one can determine his age; but one of the secretaries thought he was in his thirties, which is really surprising. Cheryl heard him say that his parents were dead. Was killed, thought of it.
It seems that this is the sum of human knowledge.
"I owe you a cup," Steve said, stroking Quaid on his shoulder.
He looked like he had been bitten.
"Brandy?"
"Thank you." Steve ordered a drink. "Am I shocked?" "I was just thinking."
"There is no philosopher there should be no one."
"A what?"
"brain."
They fell into conversation. Steve didn't know why he contacted Quaid again. This man is four years older than him and ten years older. If honestly, he might threaten Steve. Quaid's relentless talk about the beast puzzled him. However, he wanted more of the same: more metaphors: more non-humorous voices telling him how useless the tutor is and how weak the student is.
There is no certainty in Quaid's world. He has no secular masters, and certainly no religious beliefs. He seems incapable of looking at any system with cynicism, whether it is a political system or a philosophical system.
Although he rarely laughed out loud, Steve knew that his view of the world was full of bitter humor. People are lambs and sheep, all looking for shepherds. In Quaid's view, these shepherds are of course fictitious. Everything that exists in the darkness outside the sheepfold is the fear of innocent lamb: waiting for their moment, be patient like a stone.
Everything is questionable, but there is a fact of fear.
Quaid's arrogance. Steve soon fell in love with the shabby relaxation, and he destroyed the belief with a belief. Sometimes Quaid made impermeable arguments against Steve's dogma, which was painful. But a few weeks later, even the sound of demolition seemed excited. Quaid is clearing the bushes, cutting down trees and razing to the ground. Steve felt free.
Country, family, church, law. All gray. It's useless. All cheating, as well as chain and choking.
Only fear.
Quaid likes to say: "I am afraid, you are afraid, we are afraid." "He, she or she is afraid. The unconscious thing in the world is less aware of fear than its own heartbeat."
One of Quaid's favorite decoy victims is another philosophy and English. Light up the students. She would offend him with more cruel words, like fish to rain, and when the two of them argued with each other with knives, Steve would sit down and watch the spectacle. In words, he is a pathological optimist. When the debate begins to heat up, she will say: "And you suck." "Then who cares if you are afraid of your shadow? I am not. I feel good."
Of course she looked at it. Cheryl Fromm is a dream material, but it is too glamorous for anyone to try to act on her.
Quaid replied: "All of us sometimes feel fear." Steve knew that his milky eyes would look at her face intently, watch her reaction, and try to find the flaws in his beliefs.
"I do not."
"No fear? No nightmares?"
"No way. I have a good family; there are no bones in the closet. I don't even eat meat, so I don't feel sad when I drive past an slaughterhouse. I don't have anything. Shit to perform. Does this mean? Isn't I real?" "It means," Quayd's eyes were slit by a snake. "It means that your faith has a great hiding power." "Back to the nightmare."
"Nightmare."
"Be specific: define your terms."
"I can't tell you your fears."
"Tell me your fears at the time."
Quaid hesitated. He said: "In the end, this is impossible to analyze."
"Except for analysis, my ass!"
This gave Steve an involuntary smile. Cheryl's is indeed unanalyzable. The only response was to kneel down and worship.
Quaid returned to his soap box.
"The things I worry about are personal to me. It doesn't make sense on a larger scale. My fear signs, images used by the brain to express my fears, if you want, compared to real horror , These signs are mild. That is the root of my character."
"I have pictures," Steve said. "The picture when I was a kid reminded me of-" He stopped, already regretting his regret.
"What?" Cheryl said. "You mean it has something to do with a bad experience? Falling off a bicycle, or something similar?" "Maybe," Steve said. "Sometimes I find myself thinking about those pictures. Not intentionally, but only when my attention is free. It's almost like my mind is automatically turning to them."
Quaid was somewhat satisfied. "Just right," he said.
Cheryl said: "Freud wrote about it."
"what?"
"Floyd," Cheryl repeated, this time acting as if she was talking to a child. "Sigmund Freud: You may have heard of him."
Quaid's lips kept shrinking. "Mother's stubbornness can't solve the problem. Among all of us, my real fear is pre-personality. Before we became an individual, the fear was there. The fear of shrinking our nails in the womb."
"Do you remember?" Cheryl said.
"Maybe," Quaid replied, serious and fatal.
"uterus?"
Quaid half smiled. Steve thought with a smile and said, "I know you don't."
It was a strange, unpleasant smile; a Steve wanted to wash his eyes off.
"You are a liar." Cheryl got up from her seat and looked down at Quaid.
"Maybe I am," he suddenly became the perfect gentleman.
After that, the debate stopped.
There is no need to talk about nightmares, and no need to debate what happened at night. Steve sees Quaid from time to time next month, and Quaid always does this with Cheryl Fromm. Quaid is very polite to her, even polite. He no longer wears a leather jacket because she hates the smell of dead animals. This sudden change in their relationship puzzled Stephen. But he attributed it to a primitive understanding of sexual issues. He is not a virgin, but women are still a mystery to him: contradictions and confusion.
He is also jealous, although he will not fully admit it. He was dissatisfied with the fact that the dream genius occupied most of Quaid's time.
There is another feeling. He found it strange that Quaid proposed to Cheryl for his own strange reasons. He was sure that was not Quaid’s motive. Does not respect Cheryl's wit to make him so attentive. No, he was forcing her somehow. That is Steve's instinct. Cheryl Fromm was arrested. Then, a month later, the relevant remarks fell into a conversation.
"She is a vegetarian," he said.
"Cheryl?"
"Of course, Cheryl."
"I know. She mentioned it before."
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