The story has to start from Brainiac's large-scale water testing operation. During the last summer, a massive case of drinking water poisoning broke out somewhere in Wisconsin. Under Brainiac's investigation, it was discovered that the entire local underground water system had been polluted, and it was related to a factory that had failed to shut down in time despite illegal emissions. Thus, a sweeping crackdown began.
The blue Earth is endowed with extremely abundant water bodies. Besides the oceans, underground water systems are everywhere. Rich freshwater has fed and nourished the human race. But the way the human race repays Mother Earth can only be described as appalling.
In Brainiac's investigation, he found that the entire Earth's water cycle had already begun to show problems. This was because, ever since the human race entered the industrial age, the pollution it produced kept depositing in the underground water system and entering the water cycle, beginning to participate in the natural circulation.
Earth has a certain self-purifying capacity, but it cannot clean indefinitely. Human emissions have already reached a critical point; the situation of underground water in most regions is far from optimistic, and Gotham is even worse.
For centuries, the various disasters that have descended upon Gotham have basically pushed its water cycle out of the domain of carbon-based life. You could say it goes hand in hand with Gothamites, striving to help each other succeed, racing toward filth hand in hand.
Originally, when it came to freshwater pollution, there was no way that lake at the Schiller's house's doorstep should be in the running; the Gotham River should have been the first suspect. Brainiac had thought so as well. That is, until two underground machine rooms he had set up near the nature reserve started leaking and directly fried six sets of his servers—only then did Brainiac realize just how serious things had become.
After an investigation, he found that the only water that could seep here through the underground system could have come from the lake. So Brainiac tested the lake water and got almost no indicators, because if it had corrosion on par with dilute sulfuric acid, there would be no need to look at any indicators.
To call it dilute sulfuric acid is not entirely accurate. It's more like a kind of bacterial contamination, only the way the bacteria devour things is rather unusual, which makes it look as if the water itself is corrosive. Not wanting his servers to die such an unjust death, Brainiac began investigating why the water had turned into this.
And then, as a matter of course, some people caught wind of it and, without prior consultation, all took their annual leave and stayed far away from this place of trouble. Those who didn't leave were tied up by other urgent matters and simply had no hands free to investigate.
Brainiac had no choice but to first figure out how to treat the pollution, and then go after the culprit. Although this made it more likely to become one of those future episodes of a headless cold case show, Brainiac still had no intention of giving up.
By dawn, the sky was a little brighter, yet still heavy and damp. As more plants grew, Gotham's tones shifted from a dull, murky yellow to a somewhat clearer grayish green. You could call it lush and dripping with greenery, though it inevitably gave people a sense of an impending storm.
When the beaten eggs hit the pan, they sizzled, indistinguishable from the pattering rain outside, while the TV program kept playing in the background. Shiller pressed the toaster button; the golden-brown toast popped up and he placed it on a plate.
Carrying his breakfast to the dining table, Shiller had just picked up his food when the TV sound suddenly cut off. He turned his head to look; the TV screen had gone black.
Shiller finished his breakfast first, then went over to check the TV. He flipped the light switch and saw that the lights didn't come on either, and then he understood that the power was out.
"A nearby power tower was hit by a lightning strike," Brainiac said. "The outage will probably last one to two hours; it'll be fixed soon enough."
This was not something he couldn't live with. Shiller went upstairs and brought down a stack of student assignments, intending to grade them by the light in the living room. Time always crawled when grading homework; after what felt like a long while, the power still hadn't come back. Shiller looked up toward the window.
Suddenly, the door was knocked on. Shiller first turned his head, then stood up, walked over, and opened the door. Standing outside was Dr. Ethan.
He was one of the scientists Shiller had found who was willing to follow him into this cosmos. When Greed rushed to the Central Universe, he happened to pull him out of Afghanistan in the nick of time. Ethan no longer had any family or friends in America, so he followed Shiller here.
Brainiac had assigned him a house, likely based on proximity; it was in the same community where Shiller lived. But it was some distance away from Shiller's house, on the other side of the lake.
"What brings you here?" Shiller asked.
"The power's out." Ethan was not like your typical scientist; he was a military doctor who had been on the battlefield. Tall, strong, and always alert, he would instinctively reach for the gun at his waist.
He had a certain degree of post-traumatic stress disorder from the war, an old topic by now. Fortunately, it wasn't too severe. After Shiller gave him a few sessions of psychological counseling, he was basically fine.
Shiller assumed his PTSD had flared up, so he let him in, poured him a cup of hot water, and said, "There are indeed some people who relapse on stormy days…"
"Oh, I'm not here because of that," Ethan said after taking a sip of water. "A power outage is not a good sign. We should gather together as quickly as possible to prevent anyone from taking advantage of the situation."
The hand Shiller was using to hold the cup paused. You couldn't really say Ethan was overreacting; if this had been a few years earlier, this would have been the textbook vigilance of a chosen Gothamite. Even now, it wasn't entirely unreasonable. If he stayed with Shiller, the chances of others being preyed upon would drop considerably. Shiller suspected Brainiac had put him up to this.
But on second thought, he felt that was unlikely. Though Ethan was a scientist, he strongly rejected Brainiac and normally didn't like talking to him, much less taking orders from him. This was more likely just the caution of an old soldier.
When a natural disaster hits, the hardest thing to guard against is man-made calamity. Plenty of people seize the chance to make a fortune during earthquakes or floods. Especially in countries where guns aren't banned, unrest can easily break out. At such times, community members spontaneously organize; the earliest militias were formed precisely for this.
Even outside Gotham, this sort of thing happens from time to time. Power outages in particular mean poor communication, and once night falls, the lighting situation is worrisome. If criminals show up, they're indeed hard to guard against.
"We don't have neighbors," Shiller told him. "Apart from the two of us, all the surrounding houses are empty. The nearest household is about twenty miles away."
"Why?" Ethan was a bit shocked. He glanced out the window; the villas outside all looked fine, and the scenery here was quite nice too, it didn't seem like the sort of place that would be empty.
"It's a bit complicated to explain," Shiller said. "I'm afraid I'll have to start with Gotham's situation and go slowly from there..."
He had just said this when the lights suddenly came back on.
"Power's back," Shiller said.
But at that moment, the TV screen flashed once, flickered, and then quickly went dark again. Shiller went over to check it, and Ethan, sitting on the sofa, spotted the problem at a glance: "Did you forget to turn the power off before the outage?"
Shiller shook his head. Ethan sighed and said, "After the power goes out, you need to turn off all the electrical devices, so when it first comes back on and the current is unstable, it doesn't fry your equipment."
Shiller's hand, which was resting on the TV, froze. He really hadn't known that. First, because everywhere he'd lived before had very stable power. Second, he didn't use many electrical devices to begin with, so the odds of anything breaking were low.
Ethan walked over, took a look, and then said, "Pass me the screwdriver, let me see if I can fix it..."
Shiller went to get him the toolbox. Ethan fiddled with it for a bit, successfully took out a board, and then said, "Just as I thought, it's burnt out. This part has to be replaced, and I doubt you can find one anywhere right now."
Shiller sighed. There's not much to do in the rainy season as it is—was he really going to be stuck grading assignments late into the night?
By that time, Ethan's attention had already been drawn to the assignments on the table. He said, "Are these your students' assignments? Can I take a look?"
"You can, but I don't recommend it. It might trigger your stress disorder," Shiller said, still wondering if there was any way to get the TV fixed.
Ethan ignored that, sat down at the desk, and started reading with great interest. He said, "I don't really understand Psychology, but I can help you correct the grammar mistakes. Been a long time since I've done this kind of work."
"You used to be a professor?"
"Not exactly," Ethan shook his head and said. "But I used to be a great right-hand man to my professor. Plenty of my juniors' surgeries were actually guided by me. By the way, why don't you get a couple of students to help you out?"
"They're all very busy," Shiller said. "Their extracurricular activities are very rich. And I don't have any funding to pay them to help."
"You're a theory guy?" Ethan asked. "Then yeah, that's a bit of a headache. Don't list your students as co-authors, and you can't find anyone to do the grunt work; list them, and it might deal a fatal blow to your academic reputation. Tough choice."
"It's not that hard a choice. They don't really want their names on my papers anyway; each of them has their own research focus." Shiller sat down at the desk as well. He picked up an assignment and started reading, but his head was still full of ways to fix the TV. Compared with grading, even repairing household appliances was far more interesting.
The rain outside was getting heavier and heavier, which was indeed a bad sign. Water was beginning to build up on the road, which meant the drainage system might already be at its limit, and not far from the house there was a lake.
"The pollution in the lake water still hasn't been completely resolved. If the lake overflows, it will deal a fatal blow to the house," Brainiac said. "Pack up some things, Professor, you might have to evacuate."
"I don't want to abandon my house." Shiller tried to refuse. Even though there wasn't anything particularly valuable inside, he had absolutely no desire to see the place turned upside down. If he stayed, he could actually use the Gray mist to protect the house.
"The residents here are all being evacuated uniformly to the north," Brainiac said. "Gotham University has already been evacuated. Are you really not going, Professor?"
"Gotham University has evacuated?" Shiller frowned. "Why would it flood over there?"
"Leaving aside the campus lake, Gotham University is not far from the Gotham River and sits in a downstream area. The situation is not optimistic."
Compared to his own house, Shiller was more worried about Gotham University. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Where are we evacuating to?"
"There are lots of villas to the north. I can pick out the one with the most luxurious interior for you," Brainiac promised.
An hour later, Shiller walked into a villa and saw Alberto and Cobblepot. Alberto stepped forward and shook Shiller's hand, saying, "Long time no see, Professor. Braving the rain to come here—what's the occasion?"
Shiller gave a cold smile, but directed it at Brainiac. Out of all the empty villas in the North District, it had zeroed in on the only one that was occupied—the Falcone Family's estate.
"Nothing much," Shiller said. "I was a bit worried about Cobblepot. Cobblepot, are you okay?"