There can't be a Harvest Moon in the RimWorld.

Mary tilted her head and thought for a while. "If we're talking about the latest genre, the one I can think of is stream of consciousness. It's unconventional in both its creative techniques and subject matter. If it weren't for the teacher's restriction on 'unprecedented' themes, I might have started in this direction."

Hmm? Stream of consciousness literature, isn't that just like Shinbo's cheap PPT animation, using fragmented thoughts and scattered words to create atmosphere?

This definition, originally a psychological term, describes the continuous flow of human consciousness, and using the metaphor of a 'river' or a 'flowing stream' to express it is the most natural approach.

However, whether this is a literary school or a creative method has been a subject of much debate for a long time. In fact, it is difficult to classify it as a literary school in the strict sense, partly because the recognized stream-of-consciousness writers did not communicate with each other in their creative process, did not issue a manifesto to express their common goals, and did not form a specific organization.

On the other hand, stream-of-consciousness literature has a long history of development. This method has been used in literary creation since early times, and stream-of-consciousness literary works have appeared in different regions and periods. However, they are mostly a mode of expression, which presents what is behind the veil of novel language at the cost of extremely downplaying the plot.

I took the book and flipped through a couple of pages. "And what about the content? The material for stream-of-consciousness literature is much harder to find than just making things up. It requires personal experience to evoke the reader's empathy, and also the skillful construction of loose yet coherent associations..."

The girl in the dress picked up the delicate teacup and gently swirled it.

"For example, rural life? The things here are very novel to me, and they might give me some inspiration."

She thought for a moment and then said, "Especially this book that my mentor gave me, the story is full of vitality, it really makes you feel like you are there, actively exploring and cultivating."

Hearing her say that, I looked up and noticed that the book in her hand had quietly changed from a book on literary theory to "Robinson Crusoe".

"This book is indeed good for passing the time, but did you know that the real-life person who inspired this book spent so much time on the island that he almost lost his language and social skills? Even after being rescued, he was completely out of place in society. In the end, he was just an unlucky privateer, far from being as vibrant as he is portrayed in the book."

I poured cold water on it.

Mary, however, didn't seem to care much. "Literary creation and real life should always be different. Overemphasizing reality or ideals will lead to clichés, which I understand perfectly well."

I lowered my head and said, "Good that you understand. In the end, writing novels is a dead end, so it's better not to take it too seriously."

Speaking of creation, I can't help but add something.

"Not only that, I've found that any job involving words is just a pain in the ass. When I read a novel, there's always a scene where someone kneels down and is fed real shit; when I play a game, there's a novel plot where the father gets shot in the head with a golf ball and still manages to reconcile. When I read a comic, there are hundreds or even thousands of Dark Batmen lining up to get shot, and the villain always says, 'I predicted your prediction...'"

The Akarin girl looked at me with a puzzled expression. "Are you talking about something of the same theme?"

I got more and more agitated as I spoke, “Even if I don’t read superhero comics, I can watch some live-action TV series, but this show is basically a live-action version of the ‘Beckdale’ test! It gave me goosebumps!”

Mary asked softly, "The Beckdale Test? What's that?"

I pulled at my hair and said, "That's a bizarre set of filmmaking standards, mainly based on three core criteria: there must be at least two female characters in the film, they must have dialogue, and the topic of the dialogue must be unrelated to men to test for gender discrimination. These three conditions sound like political correctness, and you also have to add Black people, minorities, transgender people, and religious people..."

I slammed the book shut. "You think it's unreasonable for me to want to see something normal? Constantly mixing all these messy standards together is ruining the creative process. Are you making a film here or raising monsters and stacking buffs?!"

Mary didn't answer, probably because she didn't understand what I was saying. She silently picked up her teacup and moved it away from me to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

I slumped listlessly onto the table, pushing the book in my hand aside. "I thought to myself, maybe watching domestic movies would be better. Even if the subject matter is a bit childish, there won't be any of these ridiculous things. But it was almost like seeing an American pilot shouting 'love and peace' and jumping out of his plane across the battlefield to save the enemy! What kind of nonsense is this!"

Mary finally noticed that something was wrong with me and asked softly, "You seem to have a lot of opinions about literature? It's a pity I haven't read any of the ones you're talking about. Where can I find them?"

This... in a dream?

"Hmm...that's not important. I just wanted to tell you that everyone can come up with so many strange and unconventional ways just by taking detours. Your attempt at literary creation is actually much simpler than you imagine. For example, your mentor only mentioned novel and unprecedented themes, never mentioning market acceptance or critics' approval, right?"

I gradually figured out this line of thinking: "In this era, it is certainly valuable to do extremely well, and there is nothing shameful about doing extremely poorly. The most terrifying thing is to do extremely mediocrely, so that no one will even criticize you! If you can't guarantee that your thinking is 100% correct, then you might as well work in the opposite direction of being 100% wrong—after all, it's still 100%, and it's still a stable result!"

Mary looked at me with a conflicted expression. "But... is this kind of novelty meaningful?"

I advised, "Who cares about the meaning? Just do it! The story can't fall into clichés, so it should highlight the impermanence of life. Your tutor gave you this assignment because they know you've read a lot of works and are afraid you'll fall into the trap of being surrounded by knowledge and writing things that are just clichés left by predecessors, without anything of your own. Right?"

Mary nodded and said, "That's right, I think that's what the mentor meant too!"

"That's right. The story of summarizing the experiences of predecessors and forging one's own path sounds simple, but to truly achieve it probably requires decades of practice and the accumulation of experience to gain a complete and self-consistent unique understanding of everything. But you're lucky, because I happen to have another way to reach this point!"

"Huh? This looks pretty impressive!"

"For example, you just said that the most novel genre is stream of consciousness novels, so you could write a novel where there is no conscious manipulation of behavior from beginning to end, which could be called 'tool-person stream'!"

"Huh? If there's no thought process, how do you drive the character's growth? By instinct?" Mary asked in surprise.

I categorically rejected the idea: "No! Instinct and subconsciousness are also forms of consciousness. 'Tool-based' novels are all about eliminating fixed logic, discarding all the clichés of plot development and atmosphere building, and relying entirely on external forces. For example... let's use dice to decide! Rolling a 1 means passive avoidance, rolling a 6 means active resistance. This way, the whole story will jump around with contradictions and inconsistencies, and no one can predict what will happen next!"

Mary slowly began to understand what I meant, and tentatively asked, "Determining the fate of characters in a completely random way? I've never seen a story like this before..."

Where haven't we seen this before? Isn't this how it always is when you're playing a raid? If you're lucky, you'll be killing gods and demons right after leaving the starting village; if you're unlucky, you'll keep failing your attempts and get killed by slimes. This is all very common.

"Also, although your advisor didn't say what the writing is useful for, I already have a complete business model. Would you like to hear it?" I asked.

Mary nodded repeatedly, her face full of anticipation.

I slowly began to say, “First of all, this story should not end easily. It must have an open ending. For example, it could end abruptly when the main character’s important family members are captured by the villain and he is about to kill them with a crowbar. Then, on the last page of the book, there should be a reader poll to encourage everyone to cut out the ballot and mail it in, and let the votes decide whether the characters in the book live or die!”

“Vote? Why?” Mary asked, puzzled.

I said confidently, "As long as you find a reliable publisher to handle it, he'll know what to do. Voting can motivate readers. At this point, you can create a special section in the newspaper to regularly tally the ratio of dead to alive. You also have to deliberately rig the votes to make them look very close. Then, at the very end, you regretfully inform everyone that the final outcome is total annihilation..."

As Mary listened to what I said, her previously indifferent face instantly became more expressive. Perhaps putting herself in the reader's shoes, she immediately protested in a low voice, "Wouldn't that make us like rats in the street?"

I slowly shook my head and said, "That's simple. We'll release the bad ending as usual, and when the event's popularity reaches its peak, we'll announce that a large number of readers have forged their votes, and they all need to be invalidated and revoked! This way, the book's sales will double again, and we'll win unanimous cheers and applause from the readers!"

I held up the book in my hand and placed it in front of him. "Look," I said, "at this point, this novel is no longer just the author's fantasy or fiction. On one hand, it has a storyline that perfectly matches probability, which was randomly selected. On the other hand, it has the nature of being created through a collective vote by so many people. Every reader will consider it the culmination of their hard work! This book is bound to become a landmark bestseller on the market!"

...There's another half I haven't said: the author of this book might become the savior of countless blade manufacturers.

Although the comic book industry and fan-based talent shows have already gotten tired of this kind of approach, it's still quite novel in this era. Just this kind of mindless, entertainment-obsessed spirit alone will take them decades to develop before they can even get close to it.

Mary thought for a moment and said, "This writing challenge is very low, and the subject matter is indeed very novel. But how can we ensure it won't be plagiarized?"

Reading an author's work is like choosing a chef to cook; it's all about the taste.

Some people attract readers with their imaginative ideas, some gain recognition through their writing skills, and others focus on cultivating a particular genre, becoming unshakeable masters. How to maintain a leading position in the industry has always been a difficult problem.

I said nonchalantly, “There’s no need for guarantees. Plagiarism is unavoidable, and countless copycat works will naturally appear on the market. But at this point, being one step ahead is the biggest advantage. As the earliest and most deeply ingrained work, what you need to do is not to refuse others from imitating it, but to actively open up the copyright, charge for secondary creations, and turn the closed-source story into an open-source world. The more people write about it, the more revenue you will generate for yourself. You can become a master for the rest of your life without even lifting a pen!”

This idea is very appealing, but it's not guaranteed to come true. After all, there are so many writers of the infinite flow genre, and none of them seem to be paying protection money to the author. In fact, with continuous development, the author has already copied and surpassed the pioneer, stepping over him and entering a brand new era of style...

In short, I feel that this method has a chance of success. As for whether Mary is willing to try it or whether it will proceed according to my plan, that is not my concern.

This "tool person" genre not only refers to the protagonist being a tool in the book, but also means that the entire book is just a tool, a stepping stone to smoothly transition to the desired goal.

I continued to refine my hypothesis: "To enrich the story, the protagonist's initial status must be low, the possibilities must be as wide as possible, and the impact of each step must be different. You can set the most clichéd and basic plot, and then boldly take out the dice and freely rewrite the script!"

But this idea seemed to ignite a raging fire in Mary's heart, and the Akarin girl immediately picked up paper and pen and began to write and draw, while looking at me with a strange look.

“Marcus, do as you say! This will be unprecedented in both creative technique and genre—to express my gratitude, I’ve decided to give you a gift!”

Seeing Mary's politeness, my ingrained habit instantly kicked in, and I quickly declined, saying, "No need, no need. This little favor is nothing. If you want to pay me, just give me two bottles of Moutai. I have plenty of ideas like this, and I even accept payments with my 3090 graphics card..."

Mary frowned at me and said firmly, "Although I don't know what you're talking about, please accept my gift!"

"No need... Hey, why did you suddenly come over here!"

Her body suddenly moved closer to me, and before I knew it, she was less than 20 centimeters away!

Wait, something's not right with this plot, is it?

It wasn't the kind of "I'll be your servant in my next life to repay your kindness" kind, but rather the kind of "I have nothing to repay you with but my body" kind.

Or am I currently in "young adult mode"? Will I be switching to paid content immediately afterward?

Should I decline, or should I emphasize that it's better to increase the effort?

While I was still lost in my daydreams, Mary had already slapped a piece of paper into my hand.

When I unfolded the crumpled paper, I saw it was filled with handwritten personal information, experiences, hobbies, and other details. The categorization was so detailed it was more exaggerated than a census, resembling a primary school student's yearbook.

"...What's this?"

She gripped my hand tightly, as if seeking praise, and said happily, "Fill out this form, and I've decided that you'll be the protagonist of this novel!"

Mary, let's talk this over. Put down your copy of Robinson Crusoe first. Don't think I can't tell you're interested because of this novel...

Also, you want to write a novel based on my experiences?

That book is doomed to fail!

I said it!

Chapter 587 Everything is based on pyramid schemes, Ponzi schemes create the universe

Seeing that Mary was deep in thought, I sighed with a bit of a headache, and then glanced at the sky outside the window...

It's getting dark again!

There must be a time black hole in this room!

I walked to the bookshelves of the small library, circled around twice, and actually found a few functional books among the vast collection of literary books.

"Hey, are these two books on plant cultivation yours?"

Mary, engrossed in her writing, answered me without looking up, "Oh... those must be the books Dad left here. He probably stole money from home and was afraid of being caught..."

...Nothing is more bitter than the suffering of all living beings. Thinking about it this way, I feel that my life is still quite comfortable.

"Can I borrow it for a couple of days? I won't bother you anymore. Focus on preparing your new book."

Between legally taking a break and preparing for her new book, Mary surprisingly chose to work without hesitation, which is truly heartbreaking. If she were an author born in the Year of the Pigeon, she would probably be out writing, gathering inspiration, or traveling by now.

Hearing me say goodbye, Mary finally raised her head slightly. "Are you leaving so soon?"

...That's fast? Are you sure?

In the short time I was looking for a book and talking, the sky outside had already transitioned from dusk to sunset. Judging by the gloomy look of the sky, if I said a few more words, it would immediately get dark, and I, Marcus, would soon be a new species in the mayfly family…

"Enough chit-chat, I'm off! You should go home and eat too! I'm not kidding, this police station has a long history, and once it gets dark, all sorts of monsters and demons might come out..."

As is customary, I gave Mary a fright, then turned and ran down the stairs, dashing to the front door and quickly leaving the time-devourer behind.

Stepping out of the police station, I instantly felt a sense of relief, as if the strange debuff I had been wearing had vanished immediately.

Ugh, a curse that doubles the speed of time is way scarier than anything like -1 second. It always makes me feel like I'll be halfway to the grave in the time it takes to drink a glass of water.

My warning to Mary about the police station wasn't entirely unfounded. As one of the most historically significant buildings in town, it's seen far too much; it's quite reasonable for someone who's been inside for a long time to see strange things, right?

What? You're saying there were no accidents there at all?

If it were a tough guy like Harris with a long face, he could certainly stay inside for ten years without getting into trouble, but I have to consider Mary's status.

That's a University of Michigan student...

Hopefully nothing bad has happened at the police station.

…………

"Boss, do you have pork chop rice? This is what we old-timers from Mining Town always do when we get out of the police station, it's the real deal!"

The owner of Dart indifferently served a cream-filled toast.

"Think it over before you speak, or you'll miss your chance."