68: Chapter 67 The Genius’s Brain 68: Chapter 67 The Genius’s Brain People who have never been in solitary confinent don’t know the terror of it being tightly closed, and those who have can’t describe that terror to others because so many things can never be truly understood without firsthand experience.
The consequences of solitary confinent can be unpredictable since the conditions of the cell vary, as does the tolerance of the person confined, leading to differing outcos.
Yang Yi’s room had nothing in it, and if he wanted to lie down he could only do so on the floor without being able to stretch out his legs, but sitting on the floor was not a problem, and standing didn’t quite reach his head.
With a small window and a toilet, this was already one of the better solitary cells.
If one were in a solitary cell without a single ray of light, after seven days a person could indeed go mad.
Yang Yi decided to try and see what the feeling of being in solitary was really like, so he began to embrace solitude.
The solitary cell was very quiet, but it was also very safe.
Yang Yi felt a complete relaxation of body and mind, then he began to use his pulse to keep track of ti.
Without a clock and unable to see the sun through the small window, of course, there would be no sunlight streaming in.
In fact, it was already extraordinarily generous that there was a bit of light, for how could one possibly see the sunlight and thus keep ti?
In reality, those in solitary quickly lose their sense of ti, feeling as though a long ti has passed when only a few minutes have gone by.
Nevertheless, after just twenty minutes of timing his pulse, Yang Yi couldn’t continue; it was too tedious, and the constant, dull repetition of timing threatened to drive him to collapse even faster.
Soon, Yang Yi beca irritable, began to rage, then started to worry, raged again, and after that, beca despondent.
Wave upon wave of emotions struck him.
Yang Yi didn’t go insane, but his emotions had begun to destabilize.
Angry with his circumstances, he worried about how he would be treated next, concerned about how Kate was doing alone in the United Kingdom, and distressed by his own plight.
All was silent.
Even now, Yang Yi had not started to shout and scream, because he was still able to control his emotions.
The light from the window gradually dimd, and evening approached, finally giving Yang Yi his first concept of ti.
He had been locked in the solitary cell around ten in the morning, and sunset was roughly seven in the evening, aning nine hours had passed.
It was only nine hours, yet Yang Yi felt as if he had lived through two entire days.
He hadn’t lost his sanity nor had he broken down, but his concept of ti had been utterly confused.
But having briefly regained a sense of ti from the darkening window, Yang Yi quickly lost that sense again, as it was now pitch black inside and out.
A night in solitary was a thousand tis harder than the day.
Yang Yi quickly lost the calm he had managed to maintain during the dayti.
He couldn’t see his own hands in front of him; there was nothing to hear, no sound, no light, only a cramped space where movent was restricted.
Yang Yi felt like he was going insane, so he couldn’t help but let out a loud yell.
After shouting, Yang Yi muttered to himself, “It seems I can only last twelve hours at most, just twelve hours and no longer.
Let the test end here.”
Standing against the wall, Yang Yi, after speaking to himself, suddenly cald down, as if a madman had turned sane in an instant.
In solitary, you have no one to talk to, and certainly no one will talk to you, so learning to talk to yourself is very important.
So people continue to mutter to themselves even after solitary has ended, simply because they haven’t yet freed themselves from that isolated state of mind.
“So, watch a movie?
A concert?
Or read a Ben book?
Maybe sit down for dinner with the family.”
Do you know what is most painful for a genius with a photographic mory?
It’s not being able to forget certain things, no matter how hard they try.
Yang Yi was able to quickly forget many trivial things not worth dwelling on.
His brain categorizes things into useful and useless, choosing to rember or discard accordingly.
If he rembered every minor detail in life and couldn’t forget them, that would be a sickness.
For all the exams Yang Yi took from his childhood until now, he could always score full marks as long as it didn’t involve creativity or divergent thinking, such as writing an essay.
This is because he carried the textbooks and correct answers in his head.
Ordinary people rember scenes from a movie, but for Yang Yi, especially when watching a particularly favorite film, he would rember the entire movie.
From beginning to end, from director to producers down to the staff list, everything was stored in his mind, ready to be retrieved and replayed whenever needed.
The idiom “etched into one’s mind” was created for geniuses like him with photographic mories.
Hence, Yang Yi’s mind ca equipped with a player.
He couldn’t create a movie in his head, but he could replay his favorite films over and over.
Sotis, he might neglect the background music, but if the score was very appealing, no problem, it would start to play at the right ti as well.
“Let’s watch a movie then.
Which one should it be?
Dances with Wolves, how about that?
Good, let’s watch Dances with Wolves.”
Yang Yi settled against the wall, then closed his eyes.
After a long while, Yang Yi opened his eyes, though there was little difference between closed and open, as it was pitch black either way.
Yang Yi began to applaud, and he chuckled, saying, “I love this movie, it’s fantastic, a great work!”
With the applause over, Yang Yi thought for a mont, then once again spoke to himself, “What shall I watch next?
I’m in prison, so how about The Shawshank Redemption?”
So, Yang Yi closed his eyes and began to watch his second movie on his brain’s built-in player.
Actually, using one’s brain is very tiring; it consus a lot of energy.
Halfway through The Shawshank Redemption, Yang Yi felt exhausted and sleepy.
So he paused the movie replay in his mind, lay down beside him, and soon fell into a deep sleep.
There was no bed, no blankets, the floor was cold and hard.
When Yang Yi woke up, the small window remained dark.
Standing up and stretching his body, Yang Yi realized he was hungry.
While he could easily overco the ntal anguish, the physical tornt was unavoidable.
There would be no three als a day in solitary, so he just had to endure the hunger.
Yang Yi continued to watch his movies, picking up from where he left off.
This was mory, but not just mory – at least not like an ordinary person’s mory.
Physical harm from solitary confinent is minimal, it’s the ntal torture that’s key.
But for soone with a built-in question library, a vast personal library, and an image player, seven days of solitary?
Ha.
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