Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 261 Is he about to go crazy?

Before hanging up, Milton confirmed one last time: "Are they going to buy American air defense systems, or has the US opened up imports of air defense missiles to the Alsu government?"

“As far as I know, it’s the former,” Eunice said in a pleasant voice. “American aid always comes at a price.”

"understood."

Milton hung up the phone, glanced at the night outside the window, and tapped on the table.

As is well known, the United States' field air defense has always been rather humorous. Often, they simply use man-portable air defense systems (MANPADS) mounted on vehicles to deal with the enemy. After all, most of the time, the United States is the air superiority side, so its field air defense doesn't need to be that advanced.

But the aircraft Milton now has are clearly not something the Stinger can handle, and Milton believes that the Arsu army is now equipped with man-portable air defense systems.

Procurement from the US military would enable them to counter Milton's slow, low-altitude attack aircraft...

Without even thinking, Milton immediately came up with an answer—MIM-72!

The vehicle-mounted air defense missile, based on the M730 tracked chassis, is amphibious, has a launch rate of 4 missiles per minute, a flight speed of Mach 1.5, and a maximum range of approximately 6 kilometers, making it an excellent choice for dealing with low-speed attack aircraft.

Most importantly, it began to be gradually retired from active service in the U.S. military in 1990 and sold to other countries until it was completely retired in 1998.

Based on the information gathered so far, it is highly likely that Arsu is procuring this particular anti-aircraft missile!
However, Milton couldn't help but chuckle: "MIM-72, that must be an early model... isn't that funny too?"

They were sufficient for attacking Milton's aircraft, but Milton's equipment could always be upgraded!

After gaining control of large swathes of territory in Mexico, Milton is just one step away from unlocking fighter jets!
If we could get our hands on an F-5E fighter jet, with afterburner engaged, a missile traveling at Mach 1.5 would only be able to suck up the aircraft's exhaust fumes.

After figuring out a solution, Milton relaxed a bit, got up, closed the door, yawned lightly, and lay down on the sofa to rest.

He planned to sleep for two hours, which would be enough time for the interrogation room to arrange sensory deprivation for the two CIA agents.

Milton quickly fell asleep, until two hours later, the alarm clock rang on time, waking him from his slumber.

It is also accompanied by dizziness and a tingling sensation in the forehead due to lack of sleep.

"After taking care of those two CIA agents, I definitely need to get a good night's sleep," Milton muttered to himself, standing up and heading to the monitoring room.

However, just ahead, Milton saw a very familiar figure.

She was watching the events unfold on the monitor screen with great interest.

“A wine bottle?” Milton’s voice held a hint of surprise. “Isn’t it a holiday?”

Flora sighed regretfully, "I was planning to take a day off to drink, but after thinking about it, I can't miss the sight of you messing up the CIA's morale, so I think it's better to work a little overtime."

“Sure, five times the overtime pay.” Milton was also very generous, waving his hand. “Perfect, let’s see how long these well-trained CIA agents can last under sensory deprivation.”

Flora took out a bag of Lay's potato chips in yellow packaging, which she wondered if she had swiped from the Christmas celebration. She pulled up a chair and generously shared the snack with Milton, eating and watching at the same time.

"..."

……

With a whoosh, Madison felt the covering over his eyes being removed—though there was no difference before and after the covering was removed; there was nothing in front of him, only darkness.

Absolute darkness.

Madison wasn't one to sit idly by. Realizing he was in this situation, he immediately shouted to those around him, "Hey! Can you hear me? At least tell me what's allowed and what's not!"

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Respond if you hear me. I don't want to break your rules!"

"..."

However, no matter how Madison shouted, he couldn't hear a single echo... At that moment, he even doubted whether he had actually shouted or not, whether he had just thought about it in his mind and hadn't actually shouted it out.

The moment this thought crossed Madison's mind, a sudden chill ran through him from the depths of his consciousness.

This idea is dangerous!
As a member of CIASAD, he had also been put in solitary confinement for making mistakes, and knew what it felt like to be in solitary confinement—the physical torture was secondary, the main thing was the mental torment.

Even just three days of confinement can significantly increase mental stress.

The torment of being deprived of sunlight, lacking a sense of time, suffering from hunger, dehydration, insomnia, and so on, was truly unbearable. To be honest, Madison, who was not sensitive to pain, would rather Milton torture him than be locked up in solitary confinement.

"Sometimes, 'not being able to be injured' can actually harm us."

Madison sighed, first calming himself down, then sitting on the soft ground, letting his body feel the reality of touch as much as possible, while thinking about how to get through this period of confinement.

The reason for this behavior is equally simple—that meal must have been much, much better than the food in confinement.

When the human body lacks carbohydrates, the brain is the first part to be affected!
We must take advantage of the fact that we have just eaten and our minds are at their sharpest and most flexible to come up with a feasible survival plan to hold out until the US government's diplomatic efforts succeed.

Being confined to solitary confinement disrupts the secretion of hormones such as melatonin and cortisol, causing a disruption of the biological clock; cuts off continuous sensory input; damages emotions; and triggers various mental health issues...

Madison thought for a moment and decided to tackle the problems one by one, starting with ensuring his sense of time.

I just finished lunch, and it should be around 14 PM outside now. I'll go to sleep in 8 hours so that my biological clock won't be disrupted.

During this time, Madison decided to use his own heartbeat to keep a rough time.

"Next, I should walk as far forward as possible to find the edge of this interrogation room, feel around the edge, and sketch out the general terrain in my mind. That way, even in the dark, I can imagine the scene."

To be honest, even when walking on hard ground, it is difficult to maintain your sense of direction without any reference points.

Not to mention the ground was soft, with uneven surfaces, making it impossible for Madison to be sure if he was walking in a straight line. He could only manage to walk in a general direction.

"..."

Madison walked several dozen steps, making a series of shuffling motions as if trying to make some noise to stimulate his ears.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make even the slightest sound.

To prevent himself from experiencing tinnitus and auditory hallucinations, he could only walk while talking to himself, making sounds that he could hear, to ensure that his brain would not start experiencing tinnitus and auditory hallucinations on its own due to prolonged lack of sound, or even amplify his own heartbeat and breathing.

Madison paced back and forth, trying to make noise, while counting his heartbeats and occasionally muttering to himself as he searched for the prison's boundaries. Despite all this busyness, he still managed to do everything in an orderly manner.

"Fortunately, I've been trained, so this kind of thing isn't too difficult for me."

Madison believed he had temporarily stabilized the situation and maintained a relatively stable mental state.

However, after silently counting her heartbeats 240 times and walking straight for about 3 minutes, Madison still couldn't sense any boundaries.

It was as if he were in a huge, boundless black hole, and a sense of anxiety arose spontaneously.

The moment this dangerous thought crossed his mind, Madison forcefully suppressed it with his reason—he knew he was simply being held in a large prison, and that the prison was of extraordinary size, so that it was normal to walk for three minutes without reaching the boundary.

All they need to do is keep exploring. Milton isn't a god; he can't really throw himself into a place without boundaries.

Even though she knew she shouldn't be afraid, shouldn't have negative emotions, and shouldn't let these emotions drain her energy or give her dangerous suggestions, Madison still couldn't help but feel anxious.

He strained to open his eyes, trying to find a glimmer of light—he thought it was still daytime and perhaps some corner could let in a little bit of light.

Even the slightest glimmer of light, enough for his retina to catch a glimpse of the scene, would be enough to completely suppress his impatience.

Unfortunately, he failed.

A full 20 minutes passed, and Madison felt that he had expended too much energy and effort on "finding boundaries," but this not only did not alleviate his anxiety, but actually exacerbated it.

It must stop!

Tell yourself, no, read it aloud, "This is a prison cell, there are boundaries, I just haven't found them yet, it's no big deal."

Madison also very disciplinedly placed his hand on his throat, feeling the vibration of his vocal cords. This not only created a tactile sensation but also confirmed that he had actually shouted the words out and that it wasn't just a hallucination that popped into his head.

"Heh...good." Madison kicked his legs hard, clutched his throat, counted the seconds in his head, and walked around the cell talking to himself. "I can still act normal. At least I've found a way to deal with the superficial threat of this confinement."

"Next, I need to find food. Milton, no matter what, will at least provide me with some water."

"Hmm... I'll search for half an hour first. If I can't find it, I won't waste any more time. I'll sleep and rest to conserve my energy. My biological clock is very regular. I'll go to sleep in half an hour and wake up around 2 a.m.."

"Waking up in this environment might make my brain sluggish, so I need to record some information first... such as the number of days I've been here. Where should I record that?"

Madison looked around, then gritted his teeth and said resolutely, "Just make a cut on your arm, and each scar will represent a day!"

"I'm a special forces soldier, this little injury is nothing."

"Hiss... Pain can be a kind of tactile sensation, not bad, not bad. I feel much better."

So he immediately lay down, closed his eyes, and used the sleep techniques he learned in the military to urge himself to fall asleep as soon as possible.

If only I could have a sweet dream… Just as Madison was drifting off to sleep, his subconscious suddenly gave him a warning, making him feel a pang of anxiety and snap his eyes open.

At this moment, he stood up straight, his mind was exceptionally clear, and he patted his body hard, regaining some of his sense of touch.

"wrong!"

"I can't sleep! Sleeping may seem like an effective method, but it will only worsen the situation... I'm already being deprived of my senses, so I should stimulate myself more instead of falling into a deep sleep!"

"How long have I slept?"

"Well, judging from the feeling of hunger, I should have slept for about 4 to 5 hours, let's say 4 and a half hours."

"Now let me recall what I should do. First, I should walk with effort, count my heartbeats to record the time, talk to myself, and speak while touching my throat... I almost forgot, the most important task is to find the boundaries of the cell."

Under strict discipline, Madison continued his adventure.

He continued to strictly adhere to the constraints he set for himself and embarked on a new round of exploration into the boundaries of the universe.

However, as always, after searching for "half an hour," Madison still couldn't find the boundary... Just as he was starting to feel disappointed and begin to worry about the food, he suddenly kicked something.

The tactile sensation of the outside world sent Madison into a state of extreme excitement. He almost recklessly lowered himself, lay on the ground, and groped around with his hands and feet, trying to grab whatever he had just kicked.

Persistence pays off; Madison's right hand caught the thing.

He quickly gripped the object tightly in his hands, using his fingertips, palms, and even his face to feel this completely unfamiliar stimulus from the outside world.

Madison knew that by simply touching himself, he would eventually break down—people don't perceive their own breathing as "external sounds," and the various sensations they create are essentially signals derived from themselves, unable to satisfy the brain's extreme craving for external information.

Besides, one will quickly adapt to a single tactile sensation, and without new stimulation, one will eventually go crazy.

But now, Madison felt what was in his hand, felt the real, tangible touch... it was a small piece of bread!

Next to the bread, there was even a small puddle.

Madison didn't hesitate to replenish her body with sugar and water, and at the same time, she couldn't help but feel smug.

These foods certainly didn't appear on their own; Milton must have brought them over... And the time Milton brought the food almost perfectly matched the time I judged when I felt hungry. What does that mean?
This means it is indeed lunchtime, and that my timing was roughly accurate!

His plan succeeded, and Milton's measures to put him in solitary confinement failed!

Madison finished his bread and water with a bit of pride, but couldn't help thinking about that lavish "lunch."

Sure enough, after being put in solitary confinement, the food rations plummeted.

Hmm... reminiscing about the food is a way to comfort myself.

After replenishing his energy and confirming that his plan was entirely feasible, Madison continued with his "main quest": finding the boundaries.

"..."

Unfortunately, Madison walked for a long time but still couldn't reach the boundary.

In order to conserve energy, Madison had no choice but to stop for the third time and begin to record time by self-harm.

“This time I looked… wait, how come I forgot to count my heartbeats while I was walking?!” Madison exclaimed in surprise, realizing something was wrong. “I know, I’m not eating enough carbs, my brain isn’t getting enough energy, and I’m starting to feel sluggish.”

"I probably can't do so many things at once anymore."

“We must start having physical records… Well then, let’s keep cutting wounds on our arms!” Madison dug her nails into her arm, creating a third deep gash. “Also, smells and other stimuli aren’t enough anymore.”

"We must intensify the stimulus!"

Madison thought for a moment and suddenly came up with a brilliant idea... elimination!
Excrement smells bad, but the smell is also quite pungent and can even be used as a kind of "punctuation" in the dark, using the intensity of the odor as a coordinate.

As long as the smell in your nose gets fainter, it means you haven't gone back on your way and that you're on the right track.

Kill two birds with one stone!
"Hahaha... Milton, I've seen through your tricks completely. Unfortunately, as you can probably see, I've provided countermeasures for every single one of them. Your plan has failed. In a few days, you'll have no choice but to send me back to America in despair. Hahaha!"

He was a proud American, a noble CIA agent. What could a little dung henchman do to him?
Madison uttered several sarcastic remarks directed at something, then strutting forward with his head held high, marching in what he believed to be the right direction, like a victorious soldier on the battlefield.

……

Milton and Flora remained silent in front of the infrared sensor monitoring screen.

It wasn't because of provocation that they fell silent... but because the speed at which this CIA agent named Madison slid toward collapse far exceeded everyone's expectations, including Milton's.

Flora had already opened three bags of Lay's chips. She swallowed the crumbs in her mouth and asked, "Does he... does he even know what he's doing?"

Milton also reached out and took a handful of potato chips from Flora, eating as he said, "After wandering around in the dark for a while, he suddenly started walking in a gait, talking to himself, walking while touching his throat, doing some performance art-like things, and even unconsciously self-harming... The speed at which his mental health deteriorated was truly frightening."

The surveillance footage showed Madison looking as if he had suddenly turned into a cyborg.

Every single movement was just a step away from madness!

This is sensory deprivation!
Madison, on the other hand, just kept spinning around in circles the whole time, never getting close to the boundary.

"How terrifying." Flora shook her head. "What you're doing is really too inhumane... If this goes on for two days, these two CIA agents will probably suffer from incurable mental illnesses for life. Forget about returning to their agent duties, it's hard to say when they'll even be able to leave the hospital."

"His heart rate has started to change noticeably!"

Milton continued watching the screen as the figure, after yet another act of self-harm, collapsed to the ground and began to sleep.

Heart rate and respiratory rate continued to decline.

“…'Bottle,' get some doctors over here, don’t actually kill them.”

Milton originally thought that no matter what, the two CIA agents could hold out for two or three days, allowing the doctor to at least have a Christmas holiday. But now it seems that the doctor can only reluctantly accept five times the overtime pay.

We must constantly monitor the vital signs transmitted through the leg cuffs, and start resuscitation immediately if any problems arise!
Just then, an even more chilling scene unfolded.

Madison, who was asleep, suddenly staggered to his feet and, like a walking corpse, began to make some unconscious movements, wandering around aimlessly.

Sleepwalking!

Another half hour passed before Madison's "zombie" state suddenly ended. He seemed to wake up and began to examine his condition, repeatedly trying to create noise to increase his senses and resist sensory deprivation.

After completing the inspection, Madison nodded in satisfaction and began the next round of boundary-finding activities.

Flora stared in disbelief: "Wait... didn't he realize that when he woke up, he was standing up?!"

"Didn't he notice anything was wrong?!"

“Perceptual deprivation is that terrible. Believe it or not, in his own perception, everything he does is normal, logical, and very disciplined.” Milton was also shocked, but he still said calmly, “Look, he’s starting to go around in circles again… Hmm, it’s time to give him the food as planned. He probably still thinks this is dinner. Sigh, it’s actually more like a midnight snack.”

"Madison is almost completely insane, but he is completely unaware of it."

Flora gave a thumbs up: "You really are a hardcore ruthless person, I admire you. Where did you learn all these strange and wonderful things? What university did you go to? I think once you take control of that area, the first thing you should do is find out which university you went to."

As the two were bickering, the doctor finally arrived and joined the two big shots, squatting in front of the screen eating potato chips and drinking beverages.

Even doctors who were used to seeing death and suffering in hospitals couldn't help but show shock when they saw Madison's crazy behavior.

A well-trained CIA officer, completely unaware that his body was twisted into a knot, circling in an incredibly horrifying manner... After kicking the food, he became even more frantic, using both hands and feet, laughing and crying, as if performing some strange ritual.

After finishing his meal, he self-harmed a bit, circled around in a strange posture a few times, and then Madison suddenly made a move that shocked everyone.

He, damn it... actually defecated in public... in a weird way.

Even though a pretty nurse had dealt with many similar cases, she had never seen anyone do this publicly before, and her cheeks flushed slightly.

After finishing, Madison shouted something triumphantly.

Then it continues to circle in the same spot...

After hearing what he shouted, Milton's tense face finally broke down. He turned his head in confusion and asked, "What the hell did the CIA just shout? I didn't understand a word they said."

As someone who is fluent in Chinese, English, Spanish, and has heard many other languages ​​such as Korean, Japanese, and Russian, and can roughly guess what language it is even if he doesn't understand it, Milton finds it hard to believe that one day he would encounter a situation where he completely cannot understand what others are saying.

“I… I didn’t understand much either.” Flora shook her head. “What ‘see through,’ ‘failure,’ ‘America’… a few fragmented words appeared, but the rest were meaningless syllables. I don’t know what he was trying to say.”

A doctor cautiously interjected, “‘Godfather’, you, you’d better be careful not to push people too far, uh, too close to death… I mean, we can bring them back to life even if they’re close to death, but in that state, the prisoners’ mental condition might not be able to give you any effective answers. So, it’s best to end the deprivation of their senses before they die.”

Milton always respected experts, and he nodded: "No problem... but you also need to tell me first, at what stage should we stop, be specific."

The doctor thought for a moment, a hint of fear on his face: "It should be... stopped immediately when they start eating themselves!"

(End of this chapter)