OBS Chapter 2797: Weird Feast and Nightmare (5)
Chapter 2797: Weird Feast and Nightmare (5)
Chapter 2797: Weird Feast Nightmare (V)
Of course, things can't be that simple.
The chef quickly turned his head and looked at Schiller's table, because there were two people at the table who didn't touch their forks, Schiller and Jerome.
The chef walked over here.
"Excuse me, do you two have any opinions on this dish?" The chef's attitude was relatively friendly, but there was a clear threat in his smile and his tone was a bit aggressive.
Before Schiller could speak, Jerome spoke first.
"No, the food is delicious, but I haven't finished my wine yet. I didn't expect your restaurant to serve food so efficiently, and I am used to tasting wine slowly. Sorry."
The chef's face froze for a moment, but he finally accepted this statement. Schiller realized that Jerome was stalling for time. Why?
Just as the chef turned his attention to Schiller, something strange happened in the restaurant.
A diner who had already eaten his own head three times seemed to suddenly go crazy. He stopped cutting off his own head and instead took out a knife to cut off the head of the person next to him, put it on his plate, and started eating it.
After he finished eating this head, he aimed at the person on his right and cut off his head as well, then he ate even faster.
But the man whose head was cut off did not come in again.
Sure enough, Schiller thought, this so-called eating oneself does not mean eating one's own head, but eating people of the same class as oneself. This group devours itself.
Schiller also discovered that those who had finished eating the third head attacked those who were eating the third head, while those who were not attacked had not had time to eat the third head, even though some of them were closer to these lunatics.
In other words, as long as he didn't use his knife and fork on the third head, he wouldn't be attacked, so Jerome was stalling for time, because it was obvious that once he started eating, he couldn't stop.
Therefore, the later you start, the later you will eat the third head, and the later you will be attacked. Judging from the current situation, the people who have eaten other people's heads have not undergone any changes and have not become stronger, so naturally the later you enter the game, the more advantages you will have, and the fewer opponents you will have to deal with.
It's not impossible to use aperitifs to buy time, but Schiller thinks it may be because Jerome is a science student. After all, in the TV series, he was able to work with Batman to develop the energy center and deceive Batman, so he seems to be a science guy.
But Schiller is different. He is a civil servant. Since there are people in the restaurant who can communicate, there is no need for him to use such cheating tricks. He has a better way.
Seeing the chef's gaze, Schiller calmly adjusted his napkin, but looked at the chef with a slightly condemning and disappointed look.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I seem to have heard you say before that you would introduce the story of each dish to us, and I was planning to listen carefully. Do you want me to taste the food you carefully prepared so ignorantly? Please allow me to say that this is too unprofessional."
The chef's face immediately darkened.
Schiller sighed and said, "Food is only used to sustain life. The process of its conversion into nutrients in our stomach and intestines has no aesthetic value. That should be studied by biologists and doctors."
"If we put all our energy on this, we are greatly underestimating the significance of food to human society. On the contrary, we should pay more attention to the spiritual enjoyment that food brings."
“God gave us taste buds so that we can unite our senses and spirits, so simply having a wonderful taste is not enough to fully interpret the meaning of food.”
Schiller tapped his fingers on the table and said, "I am more concerned about the process of creating a dish, how the fleeting spark of inspiration is ignited in the chef's mind, how they choose to realize their inspiration, whether the choice of ingredients has any unique meaning, and what kind of emotions are expressed at the moment the dish is completed."
"I thought I would hear this." Schiller exhaled, shook his head and said, "In the end, you told me to eat it like this. I have to say, this is really disappointing. I thought the famous Brovini restaurant would give me a surprise."
The chef's face was obviously filled with embarrassment. The corners of his mouth turned down deeply, and the obvious nasolabial folds looked like two deep grooves.
“Most people here don’t care about the meaning of good food,” he said. “They can’t even remember the name of a dish, or use their power in public opinion to ignore the chef’s feelings.”
Snapped!
The crisp sound startled the chef. He looked at Schiller who slammed the fork on the table, but saw a slightly angry look in his eyes.
The chef really wants to ask, what are you angry about?
"Do you think I am such a person?" Schiller almost questioned. He said, "Why do you think so? I remember that we should have had no intersection before, sir, is this how you treat your guests?!"
Schiller stood up after throwing his fork, gathered the hem of his windbreaker and said, "If this is your attitude, then I must tell you that I don't believe someone like you can cook any good dishes, and I won't waste my time with you here anymore."
After saying that, Schiller was about to leave. At the same time, the waiters who had returned to their seats after serving the dishes seemed to have suddenly changed. Jerome also stared at Schiller with wide eyes in shock. If one were to describe his expression at that moment, it would probably be - "Where the hell did this psychopath come from? You're still picking on him???"
The chef took a step to the side, just blocking Schiller. He looked at Schiller with gloomy eyes and said, "I have to admit that you are right, sir. I apologize for my rudeness. I hope you can give me one last chance. Are you willing to sit down again and listen to my interpretation of this dish?"
Schiller seemed a little hesitant. He looked the chef up and down several times, and then he said as if he remembered something: "I seem to have some impression of you. You appeared in the previous World Chef Magazine, but disappeared very quickly..."
The chef's eyes brightened a little, and he said, "I didn't expect someone would remember me. Do you remember my name?"
Schiller actually didn't know who he was, but he was not panicked at all and said: "Since you chose to come to Gotham, your original name must not be mentioned, but if you choose to continue to provide food for people in this city, then I believe you are a respectable chef."
After saying that, Schiller turned around and sat down again.
The restaurant was in chaos at this time, because more and more people had eaten the third head. They seemed to have lost the ability to cut off their own heads to satisfy their hunger, so they had to rely on others, so almost everyone rushed towards others with a knife in hand.
Suddenly, screams, cries, wanton laughter and roars were heard. The chef seemed to be a little impatient. He lowered his eyes and roared in a low voice: "Quiet!"
In an instant, everyone's wrists seemed to be hit, and their knives fell to the ground. They were pressed back to their seats by some invisible force, but they still looked very hungry, frantically devouring any piece of meat they could find on the plate.
"You named this dish 'Nutrients'. I also heard this word in the previous ballad. Does it have any special meaning?"
He actually heard the ballad, Jerome's eyes were even more shocked, hearing his own rotten head singing to him, and his only question was what special meaning did the word nutrient have???
The chef cleared his throat. Only then did he look at the head on Schiller's plate and clearly noticed that this head did not look like Schiller.
"Before that, please allow me to ask, why is this..."
“Have you ever heard of dissociative identity disorder?” Schiller asked rhetorically, saying, “Not everyone’s version of themselves is their own.”
The chef accepted this statement with a knowing look on his face. He said, "The word nutrient means exactly what it says. In the past, they got nutrients from those below them, which is obviously limited. Sooner or later, they must cannibalize themselves to satisfy their endless greed."
"You think it's all about greed?" Schiller said, looking up at the chef from his chair. "The song says 'they're getting fewer and fewer,' but I'm sorry to say I don't agree with you."
The chef frowned and was about to say something, but stopped and pretended to listen attentively, as if he had made up his mind that Schiller could not express any opinion.
"There's a striking logical contradiction here," Schiller said, holding out a hand. "Let's put it bluntly. You think the rich have always exploited the poor, right?"
"Yes, they only see us as nutrients."
"Okay, then what kind of people are poor? Maybe you would say people like you are poor, but what about the homeless people on the street? Do you think you are one?"
“Oh, I know you think you are the process and the homeless are the result, but have you ever thought that as more and more of you are exploited and turned into homeless people, there will be more and more homeless people.”
"Yes, but the homeless can no longer provide them with nutrients. They can no longer be considered human beings."
"That's totally wrong, sir. You think that people like you lose all meaning when they are exploited by the rich and become inhuman beings that are not even worth nourishment."
“Isn’t it?” The chef narrowed his eyes and said, “There are too many people like this in the world.”
"I'm not saying this to deny their evil deeds, but to say that being homeless is not the result, because the homeless in the United States still have a very good life. There are many people who are kind enough to give them food. As long as they are not seriously ill or committing suicide, they can live for a long time, right?"
"They still have room to go, and if that's the outcome for them, then what about those people living in slums in war-torn countries?"
“They are all people who have been sucked of nutrients,” said the chef.
"I didn't say that they must decide who is better. You seem to think that there is no limit to the fall after being drained of nutrients."
"If you think death is the bottom line, then I have nothing to say." The chef shook his head.
"You are wrong." Schiller looked at him and said, "There is a layer between living in a daze and dying."
"What is it?"
"Rise up and resist." Schiller said it as if he was stating common sense: "If you can't live well, but you don't want to die, isn't that the only way out?"
"But the vast majority of people don't have any..."
"But you are not one of the majority," Schiller said. "Even if you didn't before, now you have the ability to resist. Aren't you doing that?"
The chef picked up a fork from the table next to him and thrust it into the head of the man next to Schiller. He said, "You are right. I am resisting in my own way. I ask them to give me back the nutrients they got from me. This is my interpretation of this dish."
“No,” Schiller objected, to the surprise of both the chef and Jerome. “That’s an interpretation, but it’s not the best interpretation at all.”