control panel<\/a> It must be said that for an unprepared person, the RSAD Research Institute complex left an indelible impression with all its showcased novelty and technocracy, with all these robots and cyborgs respectfully parting for visitors. Yes, anyone entering here for the first time would think that if so much money was spent on all this, it must be worth it. He would certainly stroll through the shady park alleys, where the egg-headed institute workers intersperse excessive mental efforts with fresh air walks, and would inevitably expand the local network screen to take in the complex from a breathtaking bird's-eye view. Moreover, an outsider might very well think that such a beautiful place should have equally remarkable people working in it, but Denis had no illusions about that.<\/p>\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The visual channel of the chip turned a welcoming reddish hue, indicating that he could now freely move around the complex, albeit with the lowest level of access: color identification was adopted to signify access levels in Telecom. Naturally, such organizations didn\u2019t want anyone poking their noses into their shady dealings, even if that individual posed no threat.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The official representative \u2014 the chief scientist Dr. Leo Schultz \u2014 appeared on screen without any warning: he could invade anyone's mind through the local network without permission, and there was no way to get rid of him. It seemed that he made just such an impression on his subordinates \u2014 like a heavenly punishment: tall, thin, with a dry, yellowish face of indeterminate age, a large nose resembling a hawk's beak, smoothly shaven and without a single wrinkle. Yet he was probably around a hundred years old; in such an organization, you wouldn't become a leader quickly. His impeccable hairstyle, with hair of a rich jet-black color, gave the doctor a slightly youthful, fit appearance. Unfortunately, his eyes spoiled this impression\u2014they were the cold eyes of a cruel and intelligent old man. It seemed that, after a long life, all emotions had faded from them, and they had become transparent and light, like two icy mountain springs. All of this combined with deceptively soft, insidious movements. Such people fit perfectly into the overall structure of Telecom. Denis had always disliked such types: it wasn't so much the doctor's self-confidence and impeccability that irritated him, but rather the barely perceptible hint of contempt that flickered in his impassive eyes.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Hello, gentlemen. I'm glad to see you on the territory of our organization. As the host, I invite you to take advantage of our hospitality. Sorry we couldn't seat you on the rooftop right away; it\u2019s fully booked today.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Uhhh... \u2014 the boss was slightly flustered, just as he was climbing out of the cabin and caught on something with his pant leg. \u2014 What should we do with the car?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Put it on remote control; the dispatch will take your helicopter to the parking lot. Don't worry; nothing will happen to it, \u2014 Leo made a weak smile, the boss uncertainly smiled back, unable to move from his spot. \u2014 Just know that you might stay with us longer than planned.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And where can I find you?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I'm waiting at the entrance to the central building. You can use the guide, the tab is on the top right of the main page.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis vividly imagined all those red arrows along the paths and the glowing signs in the air: \u201cturn right,\u201d \u201cturn left in twenty meters,\u201d \u201ccaution, steep slope nearby,\u201d and muttered under his breath:<\/p>\n
\u2014 I love walks in the fresh air.<\/p>\n
\u2014 If you like our park, you don\u2019t need to rush too much, - Leo replied lively. \u2014 It\u2019s a true masterpiece, isn\u2019t it? <\/p>\n
\u2014 Yeah, alright, we\u2019ll be there in about fifteen minutes.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The doctor disconnected from the visual channel, and the bright advertisements and invitations urging to use the local network filled the space again.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So, boss, are you coming? \u2013 Denis inquired.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes, just a moment, \u2014 Lapin freed himself from the helicopter\u2019s grip, \u2014 you know, I really don\u2019t feel like wandering around this park.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I don\u2019t particularly want to either, but it would be nice to show how impressed we are with the power and prosperity of \u2018Telecom.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Lapin grimaced in annoyance, probably thinking that their own organization would be poorer, larger in scale, but undoubtedly funded less effectively.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0They stood for a moment, watching the ascending vehicle, then leisurely walked down the path.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You know, Dan, I think I ripped my pants.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I don\u2019t think that\u2019s an issue; there\u2019s probably a service online to hide such mishaps, and besides, I think it\u2019s free.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It\u2019s unclear who it will affect, maybe just you and Anton.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, it definitely won\u2019t work on Schulz. You\u2019ll present yourself in all your glory.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The boss made a sour face, but judging by his glazed look, he decided to rely on the local service after all. The journey continued in complete silence. Anton and the twins had gone far ahead. The boss clearly wasn't in the mood. He was not pleased with all the reforestation efforts and everything that came with it: the singing of birds, the fluttering of butterflies, and the scent of flowers. It wasn't just the unfortunate incident that occurred during a conversation with Schulz that bothered him; it was the burning jealousy towards the employees of the Research Institute that consumed him. He had even started to consider changing jobs\u2014not seriously, of course\u2014but somewhere deep inside, a little worm was persistently nagging him that if he pushed the right connections, a miracle might happen, and he would be invited to a good position at Telecom, solving all his life problems. That's where true power and influence lie: in the countless divisions of Telecom, no one knows what actually lurks behind the faceless names, like the development of automated action systems.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis was not greatly affected by this situation, and he had no desire to change jobs. He liked to think that he still had some moral principles left. For example, he would never willingly engage in what the employees of the Research Institute of Automated Control Systems did. No, he was certainly aware that his wild escapades in the world of illegal trade were not exactly examples of virtue, but what one has to do in institutions like the Research Institute of Automated Control Systems... 'Brrr... those butchers,' Dan shuddered, 'I should somehow switch topics. Anton\u2014what a scoundrel and a ruthless careerist; he doesn't care what he does: whether drowning kittens or dealing drugs.'<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0A seemingly respectable institute was involved in transforming ordinary law enforcement personnel into super soldiers for the benefit of security services of various not-so-scrupulous corporations. Super soldiers were essentially a blend of human and cybernetic devices, allowing for a whole range of vital traits essential for any soldier. Arumov apparently thought it was a great idea to replace the gang of overweight, corrupt thugs in the NKIS, who only emerged from their office to extort smaller organizations, with a couple of battalions of fearless, obedient terminators. Denis wasn't particularly interested in how the transformation process occurred. He merely flipped through the provided materials for appearance's sake. It didn't matter anyway; the higher-ups had already decided everything, so there was no need to worry. Besides, he didn't want anything to do with modified individuals and had vowed to stay at least a kilometer away from them. Unfortunately, he couldn't shake the thought that Arumov intentionally kept people like Denis, absolute convicts, in reserve to later use them for testing the pilot version of the new super soldiers, just in case volunteers couldn't be found.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis's battle-hardened grandfather, whose affinity for alcoholic beverages loosened his tongue, loved to recount tales of storming Martian settlements back in 2093. It's understandable \u2013 that was the most dramatic moment of his life, and perhaps in the history of the Russian Empire. It usually began with him describing how, as a young and reckless captain, he tumbled onto the red sand from the mangled landing module, trying to locate his BMP. Nearby, someone was firing and falling, the black sky etched with the trails of rockets and ships. Every few seconds, the chaos was lit up by flashes of nuclear explosions in nearby space. His mind was a jumbled mix of frantic communications, outdated orders, and cries for help. The civilian population, terrified, hid away in airtight homes and shelters. Some caves had been brutally unsealed by rocket strikes, but inside awaited a powerful tiered defense. At this point, Grandpa typically made a significant pause and added, \"Yeah, kid, that was real hell.\" At that age, such scenes deeply imprinted on Dan's soul.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The continuation could have been anything, depending on the mood. Moreover, there were no serious requirements for the consistency of the stories told at different times. Often, Grandpa would tell that ahead of the invincible space assault team storming the caves, there were even more unbeatable special units made up of imperial supersoldiers. Denis couldn't verify what in Grandpa's stories was true and what was legend, but he willingly believed the tales about the supersoldiers, even if they were clearly embellished. Logically, right after the throne was seized, Emperor Gromov was concerned about creating a special kind of troops that would only obey him and would not question orders. These were not simply modified humans, like in the projects of the R&D Institute of the Imperial Defense, but organisms grown in test tubes with artificial genotypes. They were assigned the most impossible tasks when sending ordinary soldiers forward and later receiving funeral notices would be detrimental to further career advancement. The artificial soldiers were one of the most guarded secrets of the Empire; they were rarely seen without combat suits, and very little was known about their true appearance. Well, at least Grandpa served nearby and said that these guys were anthropomorphic beings, not some crabs. They were often referred to as phantoms in the troops. Despite their secrecy, phantoms fought a lot and successfully. Grandpa confidently asserted that if phantoms hadn\u2019t gone to the embrasures during the first wave of the Martian landing, the losses during the assault on the underground cities would have been colossal, and it was uncertain whether the assault would have even occurred. The losses of the phantoms, of course, did not concern anyone, perhaps not even the phantoms themselves. According to Grandpa, in terms of combat capabilities, they outperformed not only human soldiers but also advanced combat robots by a long shot. They had a sense of smell better than a dog's, perceived a very wide range of electromagnetic radiation, could also navigate using ultrasound like bats, and could fight without a suit in open space and high radiation conditions. They had skeletons reinforced with composite inserts, muscles with highly developed anaerobic glycolysis, like that of reptiles, which allowed them to exert tremendous force in rapid battles while simultaneously going without air. They couldn't be hit with a single shot because all vital organs were distributed throughout the body, like blood vessels with musculature that could pump blood on their own. Plus, they were attributed a whole bunch of other super abilities, up to telekinesis and sending emanations of terror towards the enemy.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The phantoms rushed into the dungeons first, straight at the unbroken defense, disregarding losses or the damage inflicted on peaceful cities. They had their own plan for this event, somewhat different from the strategies of the military space forces. They were eager to commit genocide against the local population, which they successfully did when they managed to burst into the underground cities while the brave paratroopers were still busy somewhere up top. The phantoms paid no heed to international treaties or the customs of war; in their artificially constructed and thoroughly brainwashed minds, there was only one goal for which they were created \u2013 to exterminate Martians. No, they were not die-hard fascists; their defining characteristic was not their permanent residency on Mars, but rather their belonging to the elite of Martian society. Those who were offered a walk on the red sand without a spacesuit had complex neural device implants even before birth. The phantoms tried not to disturb the average inhabitants, who used neural chips to play online games. It was clear that the criteria were not only quite vague but also difficult to apply in field conditions, leading to mistakes. However, even if somewhere deep within their genetically modified souls the phantoms reproached themselves for the innocently lost lovers of Warcraft, it had no impact on the effectiveness of their operations. Filtering camps appeared immediately after the battle, when explosions still echoed in the neighboring caves. Moreover, if the unaware peaceful residents refused to voluntarily open their shelters, it only resulted in mass casualties among them. Who issued the criminal order to kill peaceful Martians, or if it was merely the personal initiative of the phantoms, remained unclear. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0One might think that the ghosts were the perfect knights of death, devoid of mercy and remorse, but the Martians, who had abused cybernetics, still had a chance to be saved, ephemeral, of course, but still... The ghosts loved to pose a single question: \u201cWhat can change the nature of a human being?\u201d Apparently, they were tormented by vague doubts about their own identity. Or perhaps they had spent too long over an ancient game and decided that such a question, which by definition has no correct answer, was a wonderful way to mock a victim who had not yet lost hope. However, grandfather claimed he personally saw a Martian who escaped the clutches of the old woman with a scythe by inventing an answer that pleased the ghosts. The Martian was very young, practically still a teenager. Neither he nor his parents actually belonged to any elite, held high positions in corporations, and lived in a small apartment in an industrial area, but the number of neural chips in their brains was off the charts, and the ghosts interpreted any doubts not in favor of the Martians. The parents and two children were shot, and for some reason, one was left alive. It is unlikely he was very happy about such a rescue. No matter how much little Denis asked his grandfather what answer the Martian invented, all in vain. Grandfather and his army friends had also pondered this question numerous times and could come up with nothing sensible.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0After the empire's collapse, the ghosts, entirely true to their unofficial designation, seemed to dissolve into thin air. By now, they should have simply died out: even if one assumes that someone managed to provide them with proper medical care, they certainly didn't know how to reproduce. However, who knows what they were capable of...<\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, where have you brought us?- interrupted the boss's memories. The pine forest was bustling around, silver institutional buildings were visible through the frequent gaps, and somewhere in the distance could be seen\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 Sorry, boss, I was daydreaming.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You really don't seem to be in shape today, we're going to be late, and our people have disappeared somewhere. That Schultz will think we marked all the bushes in his damn park.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Thus, the day started off on the wrong foot. Subsequently, events unfolded in a similar fashion. Leo, along with the twins and Anton, greeted them at the entrance. He didn't take the delay personally, remaining polite and considerate. He showed the guests around the institute, highlighting various setups and testing stands, interspersing his speech with a plethora of technical details, and secretly confessed that due to his organization's great success, wealth, and prosperity, they were even entrusted with developing a new operating system for Telecom's network servers. Naturally, the research institute excelled in fulfilling the order, casually revolutionizing the field, but he asked to keep it strictly confidential for now: the work wasn't finished yet. Leo played his part excellently. Denis's neurochip diligently recorded all this nonsense, as he was supposed to pretend to understand the technical details of the project to eventually arrive at a positive decision. All the staff, as if on cue, turned to examine the boss's attire, as if someone had hinted to them, muttering some comments under their breath. The boss, of course, was blushing, anxious, and muttering under his breath, replying off-topic to questions; instead of ignoring this, Leo politely raised his left eyebrow or equally politely smiled and said, \"If something is unclear, please ask,\" launching into lengthy, somewhat incomprehensible explanations. Anton also behaved terribly: he was interested in everyone, wanted to know more details about everything, wished to meet everyone, joked, laughed\u2014his enthusiasm was palpable.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Ultimately, the endless stream of similar laboratories merged into one continuous white spot, with various heads of departments, leading specialists, and just acquaintances of Leo appearing. He had to greet everyone, get acquainted, discuss their scientific ideas, which Denis found utterly meaningless. All of this intertwined with praises for the research institute's material and technical base, evidently considered bad form\u2014as if to let outsiders doubt the organization's limitless power. Even the smallest inconvenience was unacceptable: the coffee lacked cream in the cafeteria, or the bushes in the park were unevenly trimmed, yet everything had to be perfect.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0This saga came to an end in a large conference room on the second floor, one wall of which was entirely occupied by a crystal-clear window overlooking a park. Just ten meters away, a small stream babbled, while cyber-gardeners were intently tending to the exotic vegetation, such as bright tropical flowers, clearly unsuited for this latitude and time of year. Hand-raised squirrels frolicked among the peaceful park trees, and two staff members, looking quite botanical, attempted to demonstrate some form of physical activity at a nearby training ground. The scene was utterly idyllic; it was hard to imagine that just here, people were ruthlessly cut down for the sake of power and money.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0A whimsically blinking robot delivered their late lunch or early dinner, during which they gathered to discuss the final details. The conversation initially flowed quite casually, mainly about new Japanese cars and past corporate parties. Denis preferred to remain silent, despite Schultz's delicate attempts to engage him in conversation. The twins occasionally smiled, synchronously making purely politically correct jokes, emphasizing with their demeanor that they were essentially no one here\u2014one was the main laptop carrier, the other the deputy main carrier. Anton naturally devoured food voraciously and chatted incessantly, trying to showcase his business and general awareness, including divulging rather confidential information. The boss didn't even try to rein him in and felt clearly out of place, the look of someone who realizes he has gotten involved in a dirty business out of selfish motives, where at best he could expect the role of a figurehead. Gradually, the boss lost all appetite, bleakly poking at his food and reluctantly flipping through the protocol that Leo was increasingly spamming over the network and suggesting he sign.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Denis, has something happened? \u2014 Leo temporarily left Lapin alone and decided to attack his taciturn subordinates.<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, why do you ask?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, it\u2019s just that you\u2019re silent all the time, or maybe you\u2019re hiding something from us?<\/p>\n
Oh, come on, Anton readily defended his colleague, it's just that Denis has had so many problems lately: at work and in his personal life, as far as I know.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Leo nodded sympathetically.<\/p>\n
Then we need to raise the spirits.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The robot waiter eagerly opened the compartment, which housed a wide variety of bottles on a rotating tray.<\/p>\n
Do you prefer strong drinks or wines?<\/p>\n
I prefer tea, Denis replied dryly, with lemon, please.<\/p>\n
Oh, come on, what tea at this time of day? I recommend Scottish whisky.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Leo took the initiative to pour whisky into the glasses and sent the portions to the guests with precise throws. <\/p>\n
So, I think it's time to wrap up certain formalities. You understand, without a protocol, it will seem that our day was intense and stressful, but somewhat unproductive. We both need to report back to our superiors. <\/p>\n
Yes, about the banquet, Denis grumbled.<\/p>\n
Well, in part, Leo agreed without any embarrassment.<\/p>\n
And you can charge it to entertainment expenses.<\/p>\n
I can, but only if there\u2019s a protocol...<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Leo spread his hands apologetically, as if to say, 'I\u2019m not a beast, but I need to account for the whisky.'<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Lapin had a look as if he was ready to pay for any amount of alcohol out of his pocket just to knock Schulz off his feet.<\/p>\n
Yes, of course, but I\u2019ll step out for a smoke first, the boss said, you don\u2019t smoke here, do you?<\/p>\n
No, we don\u2019t smoke, Leo smiled condescendingly, like a satisfied cat giving a mouse a reprieve before certain doom, walk down the hallway to the right to the end; you can smoke on the balcony.<\/p>\n
We'll be right back, just five minutes, the boss mumbled, fussing around in his pockets, Dan, you\u2019ll go, I think I forgot my cigarettes.<\/p>\n
Yes, I\u2019m coming. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The balcony was an entire terrace with comfortable chairs and a view of a rather dreary park.<\/p>\n
What a bunch of losers, Lapin grumbled as he flopped into a chair, who would build us a smoking area like this? And this Schulz\u2014this half-baked Hans... 'we\u2019ll write it off as entertainment expenses, but only if there\u2019s a protocol...' I'd kick the jerk out, but he\u2019s acting all important...<\/p>\n
\u2014 Listen, boss, I don\u2019t think there\u2019s a single millimeter of space in this building that isn\u2019t under surveillance. Maybe we should discuss sensitive issues through personal chat?<\/p>\n
\u2014 To hell with them all. There\u2019s only one delicate question here, how do I get out of the protocol? We arrived, took a stroll, and we'll send the signed protocol in a week. I\u2019m off on vacation in three days, Anton can sign it, he\u2019s our enthusiastic worker. And we know how to shift blame, let Arumov deal with him later. <\/p>\n
\u2014 You're right, of course, \u2014 Denis agreed, casually taking a drag, \u2014 but we have to justify the delay somehow. You can't just tell our hero Shultz: we'll send it in a week, he won\u2019t drop it.<\/p>\n
\u2014 He won\u2019t drop it, \u2014 the boss nervously and hastily smoked, \u2014 listen, Dan, you're a smart guy, think it through. <\/p>\n
\u2014 I'm like everyone else: I didn't read the documents carefully. Plus, I don\u2019t understand anything about biophysics and nanorobots.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Whether you read them or not, you need to come up with an excuse.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What did Arumov say about the protocol?<\/p>\n
\u2014 What can he say? You know how it goes: analyze everything carefully, and if there are no serious comments, sign it. <\/p>\n
\u2014 So we need to find comments in the materials or the protocol.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Thanks, captain, \u2014 Lapin sarcastically saluted with his cigarette, \u2014 good thing I figured it out myself. This Shultz will wipe the floor with us over any comments. And if you didn\u2019t realize, he and Arumov have already made arrangements, and God forbid, he starts calling him. We need to find something foolproof, rock-solid, so that nobody can nitpick.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Where are you going to find that\u2026<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0They were silent for a couple of minutes, admiring the pre-sunset nature through the clouds of smoke. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Nothing special comes to mind, \u2014 Denis began, \u2014 but let\u2019s at least stall for time, maybe Shultz will get drunk on his whiskey and go to sleep.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You suggesting we sit here until he gets wasted?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, we can politely stall. Let\u2019s ask him to show us the telecoms super-soldiers. Like, show the product, since we\u2019ve been wandering around all day but haven\u2019t seen the most interesting part. <\/p>\n
\u2014 It's unlikely it's that simple; they might not even be here, and Arumov has probably already shown them.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, since Arumov was shown, let him take the heat himself. I think it's a perfectly trivial request. If you want to sell something, show the product first. And the longer they search for them, gather, and so on, the better. We will think about it for now\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 We'll think\u2026 we could ponder all night about it, what's the point\u2026 However, let's give it a try; who knows, maybe Hans will actually spit it all out and leave.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Naturally, Leo viewed the prospect of demonstrating something else with poorly concealed annoyance. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, I hope you realize that I can't arrange a small victorious war for all of you to see with your own eyes? \u2014 he inquired rather impolitely.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Why immediately a war? \u2014 Denis spread his hands, \u2014 I'll just pour us some more; are you against it?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Of course, please do.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So, we would like to see the super-soldier units at the RSAD Institute. You are undoubtedly using your own development, right? And we want to try out your unique combat management system; we've heard so much about it\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 Oh, great! It costs me nothing to perplex half our security service. And we don't use terms like 'super-soldiers.' For your information, they are just as human as you are. We call them \u2014 special units.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I understand. Sorry. There's no need to get the whole security service in an uproar; three or four people will suffice, plus activate your wonderful program. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Such requests need to be made in advance. It requires a signature now, at least from the deputy head of security\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 Come on, Leo, would you really refuse us a trivial request? We don't refuse you anything. Apparently, our assistants mixed something up with the meeting agenda; we were absolutely assured that this event was approved.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Kidd shot Denis a sarcastic look, but upon encountering the threatening visage of Lapin, he quickly nodded awkwardly and rummaged through his emails:<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes-yes, I apologize; I got mixed up, here's even a letter from the management with a request\u2026 <\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes, include the demonstration of the special units\u2026, \u2014 Dick came to the rescue.<\/p>\n
\u2014 We are to blame; we got completely swamped, \u2014 the brothers said in unison.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Leo grimaced as he watched the unremarkable performance, but decorum was observed, so after a bit of grumbling, he suggested they wrap up the meal.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0A few large reclining chairs, reminiscent of massage chairs, rolled in. Leo explained that they would first be shown the capabilities of the tactical simulator and combat control system, which was best experienced in full immersion. The bandwidth of the RSAD Research Institute's internal network was more than sufficient for full immersion functions without connecting to a terminal, and the chairs could serve as a biobath for a couple of hours. They promised to showcase actual, not virtual, supersoldiers later. Leo grumbled a bit about how alongside the informational materials they also received demo versions of all the programs. In response, Lapin openly suggested not to be difficult. But in the end, everyone settled down comfortably and launched the network application.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The quiet suburban evening in Moscow quivered and began to blur, as if someone had splashed water on a watercolor painting: the designers had done an excellent job. Some outlines started to vaguely emerge \u2013 and that was about it, at least for Denis. The half-formed image flickered a couple of times and then vanished, along with it all the surrounding space. It disappeared and then reappeared immediately, but the feeling was still unpleasant: as if you had suddenly gone blind. A distressing red window unfolded right in front of him, demanding a system reboot.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis cursed under his breath and removed the flexible tablet band from his wrist. The old neurochip often malfunctioned, and each time Denis cursed the creators of this device. Although his neurochip wasn\u2019t exactly that, being a rather outdated system made up of contact lenses, miniature headphones, and an external tablet that functioned as a computer, transmitting signals to the lenses and headphones through a few wires implanted under the skin. Compared to any provincial from the deep Russia, not to mention cyborgs like Doctor Schultz, Denis was completely free from foreign interference in his body.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Of course, there are pleasant moments in everything. It became possible to observe the life of the corporation in a more natural and relaxed environment, without any service programs. It was quite nice to see that the park is not perfectly trimmed and symmetrical, that the lush tropical greenery of rare species planted next to the stream, and all those enormous bright flowers that do not exist in nature, are not the painstaking work of many geneticists and gardeners, but merely the botched job of a couple of computer rats and one designer, and not even the best one. He clearly overdid it with all kinds of butterflies and flocks of hummingbirds. But the most pleasant discovery was that Dr. Schultz, like an aging maiden, heavily abuses not only cosmetics but also clever programs that disguise his true visage. His face is slightly wrinkled and tired, his eyes are puffy, there are many wrinkles, and his shirt is far from dazzling white. He looks just like an ordinary person, not the chief researcher of a massive research institute \u2014 a delight to behold. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis's blooming face was the first thing that greeted the doctor when he returned to the ordinary world. The rest of the team continued to stare blankly at something. The doctor was quite puzzled, if not shocked. Two bulky security guards and a plainclothes officer, most likely the on-duty doctor, were already hurrying over. 'They probably thought I would act like a blind mole dragged out of its burrow, running around the room screaming, bumping into robots and smashing bottles of expensive liquor,' Denis thought and smiled even wider.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It's all right, gentlemen, \u2014 he said, still smiling, \u2014 I have a very old chip that automatically shuts down during a malfunction. I'm fine.<\/p>\n
\u2014 How old is it? \u2014 the approaching doctor wondered, naturally not expecting that assistance wouldn't be needed. Any modern model was too deeply integrated with the human nervous system, and even rebooting or reinstalling the operating system of the chip itself became a medical problem.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Oh, very old, \u2014 Denis replied evasively, \u2014 even the full immersion function works poorly. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Where did you find such a thing?! \u2013 the doctor shook his head in confusion and gestured for the guards to leave; he was deeply upset that because of something trivial like an old neurochip, he was pulled away from more pleasant tasks and forced to rush to help someone who seemed to be feeling fine. \u2014 You should have found time to replace it long ago. Walking around with such junk in your head \u2013 it\u2019s not a government issue, after all.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Exactly. I don\u2019t trust anyone poking around in my head, sorry.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It's a phobia, it can be easily treated, \u2014 mumbled the annoyed doctor, following the guards. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Now Leo seemed quite interested in this story. It must be said that he was very good at hiding his feelings, but for some reason, he didn't feel the need to hide his surprise this time. Yes, the esteemed doctor was knowledgeable about various aspects of cybernetics, and unlike the retired doctor, he was extremely meticulous and curious. <\/p>\n
\u2014 You're being vague, my dear friend. Neurochips that can simply be turned off or rebooted haven\u2019t been manufactured for about sixty years, I suppose. No one would even consider implanting such junk, and it wouldn\u2019t be able to register in our local network.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What difference does it make to you? It registered, didn\u2019t it?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I must admit, I\u2019m intrigued. You\u2019re quite an unusual person, Denis, \u2014 the usual cold politeness had disappeared from Leo's tone.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Glad to hear it, but don\u2019t try to befriend me. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Why, don\u2019t you have any friends?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Actually, no one really has friends; it\u2019s self-deception.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Where does such cynicism come from?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Just a sober view of human nature.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Alright, Denis, don\u2019t think that I want to become your friend. I don\u2019t really believe in strong male friendships either.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Leo smirked crookedly, poured himself another whiskey, and pulled out a large ashtray and a set of dark golden cigars that smelled of exclusive closed clubs, where relaxed gentlemen decide who will be president tomorrow and when it's time to crash blue-chip stocks.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It's disgusting, of course, but I love breaking the rules, \u2014 he explained.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis regarded these preparations and the doctor's obvious desire to establish a closer connection with some suspicion and politely declined the offered smoking stub.<\/p>\n
You know, I'm interested in unusual people, said Leo, only truly unusual ones, because, you know, everyone pretends to be unusual, but in reality, they are fighting against the system only from the comfort of their cozy biovan.<\/p>\n
Why do you think I\u2019m against the system?<\/p>\n
Then what\u2019s the need for such a chip? Modern networks are quite secure \u2013 computer terrorism and hackers have long gone out of fashion. <\/p>\n
My work is not safe. <\/p>\n
Well, well, you seem so gloomy all the time, just kidding, of course. But don't try to fool me. I bet this is much more serious...<\/p>\n
Don\u2019t interfere in my life, it\u2019s mine, and I do what I want with it. <\/p>\n
Of course, but it\u2019s foolish to have a double standard with yourself.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What do you mean?<\/p>\n
In direct terms, you seem like a sensible guy who doesn\u2019t believe in people, and that\u2019s right. But it\u2019s doubly foolish to believe that your life in this cruel world belongs to such a basically insignificant being as yourself.<\/p>\n
At least, only I am registered in my head.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The doctor smirked again. <\/p>\n
You know, I requested information about you, hope you don\u2019t mind?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0He thought, \"He seems to want to annoy me.\"<\/p>\n
No, of course not, I suggest you come over to my place and dig through my dirty socks.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Leo just smiled amiably in response.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Regarding how Russian corporations protect personal data, I have no illusions, Dennis smirked knowingly in response to Leo\u2019s grin.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I just don\u2019t leave unnecessary information about myself, he concluded to himself.<\/p>\n
So, you\u2019re not registered on any social networks, you have no credit history, which, by the way, is suspicious in itself. No major property, although it might be registered in relatives' names\u2026 but it doesn\u2019t matter. The most surprising thing is that you have no medical insurance and apparently no records of a neurochip implantation. <\/p>\n
I said I don\u2019t trust anyone to dig in my head. <\/p>\n
So there\u2019s no chip? The doctor\u2019s eyes sparkled like a hunting dog that\u2019s caught a scent. So it means there\u2019s only an external device that mimics its function. <\/p>\n
You say that as if it were illegal.<\/p>\n
Technically, there's nothing illegal about this. But in practice, it's highly frowned upon when chip registration in networks is disconnected from the actual person. I still don\u2019t quite understand why you need this? You\u2019re essentially condemning yourself to a lack of normal work; I won't even consider working in the remnants of the Russian Empire\u2026<\/p>\n
Thanks, I enjoy working in the remnants. <\/p>\n
No, seriously, you wouldn\u2019t be able to leave for Europe, let alone Mars. Or rather, it depends on how successfully your device imitates the functioning of a normal chip. <\/p>\n
I'm going wherever I want; this is an old military model, designed specifically for high-ranking officials in the army and MIK, but it\u2019s decades ahead of its time,\u201d Denis boasted. \u201cIn addition to the emergency shutdown feature, my vehicle has many other functions: for example, it can selectively disable confusing streams of information that sometimes appear in the network.<\/p>\n
Any neurochip can defend itself against viruses, especially since there are practically none in modern networks.<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t talking about viruses.<\/p>\n
Then what were you talking about?<\/p>\n
Is it really that important?<\/p>\n
I\u2019m curious,\u201d Leo said, emphasizing his politeness, \u201cthere may be these confusing streams of information in our network too; that would be extremely unpleasant.<\/p>\n
Yes, they exist; they are virtually in all networks.<\/p>\n
What a nightmare, and wouldn\u2019t you want to visit other divisions of 'Telecom' to investigate...<\/p>\n
Leo, my friend, I don\u2019t understand your humor; I was talking about cosmetic and other service programs, which are essentially no different from viruses: they shamelessly invade my brain with the complete, mind you, negligence of operating system developers for network servers and neurochips that don\u2019t provide any means of protection against such interference.<\/p>\n
Do you really believe the yellow press, that ordinary citizens can be turned into slaves of virtual reality with a snap of the fingers?<\/p>\n
I am quite ready to believe that this happens constantly for commercial purposes, and I want to see the world with my own eyes. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Ah, so that's what you mean, \u2014 Leo sighed with exaggerated relief, \u2014 I assure you that at least in European and Russian networks, users are always informed when such programs are in use, and any cases of illegal intrusion are carefully monitored, while unscrupulous providers lose their licenses. I also want to assure you that in the new operating system developed by our institute, there are special user protection measures in place, very serious measures.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Please save your compliments about your own program for someone else.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You doubt every word I say: it\u2019s going to be hard for us to work together. Actually, fine, let\u2019s say the providers aren\u2019t monitored too closely, but what difference does it make: you see things slightly differently from reality. Besides, all intelligent people know that cosmetic programs are just a big scam. For instance, you bought a program for five hundred euro coins to get abs or enlarge your breasts by a couple of sizes. And another richer fool paid a thousand for the same company's firewall and laughs at you. Well, if you're really foolish, you might buy a super-cosmetic program for two thousand\u2026 and so on, until your money runs out.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I\u2019ll just take off my lenses and save a couple of thousand. <\/p>\n
\u2014 If desired, any cosmetic program can be bypassed without such sacrifices.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I know, \u2014 Denis agreed, \u2014 they are generally unreliable, all those mirrors, reflections, and so on.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, the issue with mirrors and reflections has long been resolved, but any external device like a camera, especially one not connected to the network, often allows you to detect the operation of a cosmetic program just by viewing the footage. Essentially, this service works properly only on Mars, or in certain local networks.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Uh-huh, like your network. I didn\u2019t want to bring this up, but let\u2019s just say that it seems your mascara has run.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Leo smiled at his interlocutor, full of caustic irony. <\/p>\n
\u2014 I thought I was the king, god, and great moderator of the local network all in one, and then this lieutenant showed up and easily saw through me. Woe is me, I think I\u2019ll drink. By the way, you pour yourself one too, snack a bit, don\u2019t hold back. And believe me, your advantage over the average person is quite ephemeral, while you create a plethora of obvious problems for yourself. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cWhy is he pestering me, and even trying to get me drunk?\u201d Denis thought, \u201ceven though I\u2019m doing my job: he\u2019s totally forgotten about the protocol.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 You think you\u2019re somehow superior to the rest, \u2014 Leo continued philosophizing, waving his cigar towards those lying still, staring at the ceiling, almost showering them with ash, \u2014 that\u2019s just an illusion, no better or worse than any other common delusion. A person generally lives in the grip of illusions, no matter how they are presented. In different eras, it could have been Hollywood, or swinging incense on Sundays, or other nonsense. Denying neurochips is the same as denying progress altogether: it\u2019s clear that humanity has no other way to step onto the next level of development except through direct modification of the mind and, if it can be said, human nature itself. The development of our civilization can only be successful if it relies on a proper improvement of the human being. Agreed, hairless monkeys, in fact controlled by their instincts and other atavisms, sitting atop a pile of thermonuclear missiles, represent a civilizational dead end. The only way out of it is to enhance our own minds through our own reason; that\u2019s a recursion in itself. The emergence of neurotechnology is as significant a leap forward as the creation of the scientific method. <\/p>\n
\u2014 You know, I think you\u2019re wasting your breath on a hairless monkey like me. You have some decent drinks in your group, and it wouldn\u2019t hurt to have escort services for clients.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Come on, \u2014 Leo waved dismissively. \u2014 How would you feel about the prospect of transferring your consciousness directly to a quantum matrix? Just imagine the possibilities! Controlling yourself like a computer program, simply erasing or altering certain pieces of firmware. Your neurophobia could be fixed in one move.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What a ridiculous notion of happiness. Seriously, I don't think a person could remain human after this; it would rather turn into something resembling a very complex program. I really have no idea what consciousness is or if it can be reduced to ones and zeros, and say, add a bit more consciousness to someone... In short, I don't believe that a computer program can self-correct. <\/p>\n
\u2014 You may not believe it, but this sounds more like a primal fear of technology that's so incomprehensible it feels akin to witchcraft. It's the logical limit of our evolution, after which a new stage of history will begin. Isn't it wonderful that the immaterial world will finally triumph over the mortal physical shell? You could become like a deity: moving spaceships, conquering the stars. As a human, you're forever bound to this miserable speed of light; you'll never conquer the universe, except perhaps the nearest one. But a quantum mind, with the help of 'fast communication', can race through the galaxy at the speed of thought and wait millions of years for its devices to reach Andromeda. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Wait a million years? I'd tire of myself out of boredom. Personally, I prefer the prospect of hyperspace cruisers and conquering the nebulae of Andromeda in the spirit of senseless and merciless social realism. <\/p>\n
\u2014 This is fiction, but not scientific. The path I outlined for you is real. This is our future, no matter how much you fear or want to convince yourself otherwise. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Perhaps I won't even argue. And I'll remind you once again that you've chosen the wrong target audience for your PR campaign.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0- Isn't this a PR campaign?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Of course, we're thinking about the fate of humanity. Nonetheless, I have a vague suspicion that our conversation is a cleverly disguised promotional campaign for Telecom's products: today only, rewrite your consciousness onto a quantum matrix and receive a miracle electric grill as a gift. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Leo just snorted.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Maybe you hate advertisers too? Damn traders, right?<\/p>\n
\u2014 A little bit.<\/p>\n
\u2014 In our somewhat backward territory, you can still survive, but on Mars, for example, if we assume you've managed to settle there, you would look like a real outcast, much like a person moving through a city on a horse with a sword at their side.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, fine. Let's assume I have certain problems, but I really don't want to \"talk\" about them. I like being the marginal figure you are diligently portraying. No, not even that, I enjoy destroying myself; I find some masochistic pleasure in it. And I still don't understand where this psychoanalytical itch comes from. <\/p>\n
\u2014 I apologize for my persistence, but I have a brother\u2014a psychoanalyst\u2014who works at a rather intriguing company on Mars. You might be interested in getting to know his work better. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Why would I?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Strangely enough, it most piquantly confirms your, generally speaking, somewhat illogical phobias. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Why phobias all the time? Why do you think I'm afraid of something?<\/p>\n
\u2014 First of all, everyone is afraid of something, and second, when it comes to you, you're definitely afraid of neurochips and virtual reality. You're afraid that, by someone's malicious intent, they will get into your head and tweak something.<\/p>\n
\u2014 But can\u2019t that happen?<\/p>\n
\u2014 It can; the world around us has that property in principle. But you can't just cocoon yourself and look at the world through aquarium glass until you die. <\/p>\n
\u2014 That's still a big question of who is looking at the world from the aquarium. I'm open to change, but I want to change of my own volition, as much as possible.<\/p>\n
\u2014 That's still a big question of whether a person can change of their own will or if something must always push them. <\/p>\n
\u2014 I'm not going to play philosophy with you. Just accept as a fact my life creed: the network should not have power over me. <\/p>\n
\u2014 A creed\u2014quite intriguing.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Leo hesitantly fell silent and leaned back in his chair, subtly distancing himself from his interlocutor. He cast a dissatisfied glance at Lapin, who was fidgeting in his seat; no, he couldn\u2019t hear or see this conversation, and all his movements were precise and calculated, as if by a computer. Thus, the neurochip prevented muscles from stiffening and restored normal blood circulation, so that a person wouldn\u2019t feel like a wooden puppet after sitting still for several hours. People look eerie during full immersion, as if they are sleeping with their eyes open. Their breathing is steady, their faces calm and serene, and even someone could wake such a person: the neurochip reacts to external stimuli and interrupts the immersion. But who knows, the same person may look at you differently upon returning from the virtual world.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So, a credo. You mean to say that you always adhere to certain rules. Perhaps we should call it a code, a code of hatred towards neurochips and Martians? \u2013 Leo continued to analyze stubbornly. \u2013 So, some of the tenets of your code are already clear to me.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Which ones?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Let\u2019s phrase it this way: leave as few traces as possible. From this global principle spring the others: don\u2019t take loans, don\u2019t register on social networks, and so on. Am I right?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis only frowned more in response.<\/p>\n
\u2014 No cybernetic interference in the body \u2014 that\u2019s the second obvious rule. You must cleanse your soul and mind, young padawan. And, surely, the standard set as a bonus: have no attachments, trust no one, fear nothing. Do you know what\u2019s truly interesting about all of this?<\/p>\n
\u2014 And what\u2019s that?<\/p>\n
\u2014 You\u2019re not pretending and you strictly follow the rules of your code. By the way, do you have any followers or students?<\/p>\n
\u2014 You can sign up for my first free seminar.<\/p>\n
\u2014 After all, this is a phobia, \u2014 Leo leaned back even further with satisfaction as he said this, \u2014 and it's so strong that you've built a whole theory around it. It's not as simple as it seems to resist the corrupting influence of Martians your entire life. You need to have some kind of overvalued idea or be afraid of something very deeply. Just think, a few hundred euro coins, a two-day stay in a medical center, and all the pleasures of the world at your feet. Yachts, cars, women or orcs with elves, just reach out and take it.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis didn't reply, shrugging irritably. He underestimated the doctor's ability to penetrate into the soul of a conversation partner. Well, a person who's lived for almost a hundred years and has a whole team of professional psychoanalysts at his disposal, along with a Martian buddy, surely must master such techniques perfectly. Denis had no doubt that this team of psycho- and other analysts existed, and during important negotiations, Leo surely made use of their services. However, in this situation, it probably wasn't worth concocting a complex conspiracy theory; Denis simply relaxed and inadvertently revealed his true nature. Yes, damn it, he is afraid of neurochips and virtual reality, he feels like a cornered wolf in a world where the territory of 'pure reality' is relentlessly shrinking every day. And, to be honest, he never even tried to figure out the reasons for his hatred. What makes him so persistently reject what seems to be the obvious truth of life? Perhaps he is indeed just a desperate outcast, subconsciously sensing his inability to fit into modern society? 'I'm just a ghost, \u2014 thought Denis, \u2014 made of flesh and blood, but a ghost living in a world that's long been of no interest to anyone. Where almost no one is left.' <\/p>\n
\u2014 I would unleash a pack of good psychologists on you, \u2014 Leo seemed to read his thoughts, \u2014 they would devour you whole, just kidding, of course, don\u2019t pay attention. You don\u2019t hear that often; most people wouldn\u2019t understand it. <\/p>\n
\u2014 And you would, then?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, yes, I have a lot of life experience, appreciate that, \u2014 Leo smiled slightly. \u2014 There's an interesting psychological effect: no one feels uncomfortable that there\u2019s a chip in their head that completely controls their nervous system and could potentially be managed by someone else. As I said, so what if you see a little bit of something that isn\u2019t exactly real? Perhaps your behavior is even slightly adjusted, well, so be it; it's still better than being herded into a stall with kicks and clubs. Let's assume the network is created and managed not by a human, but by some infallible higher being. The modern world is too complex and incomprehensible; we need to accept it as it is. <\/p>\n
\u2014 So, this isn't a phobia at all.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes, that\u2019s the reality, so your fears are doubly irrational. You might as well hate food producers for being able to control you with hunger. Or, for example, a gun pointed at your head controls your behavior much more reliably than a clever chip embedded in your operating system.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Don't you see the fundamental difference? It's one thing when you're controlled from the outside, but you know who is forcing you and how, and it\u2019s entirely different when it\u2019s done without your awareness.<\/p>\n
\u2014 But you don't understand that there\u2019s no difference; the result will always be the same: someone will control you. Previously, it was clumsy bureaucrats with lots of silly paperwork. They couldn\u2019t meet the challenges of the times, so they were replaced by more flexible and developed elites of transnational IT corporations. Martian control is designed to be more subtle and complex, but it\u2019s no less reliable. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Exactly, I never forget who develops operating systems for network servers, and I do not wish to experience what psychological effects they can create.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So, do you prefer the blunt pressure of a totalitarian state machine?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Why should I choose between two evidently bad options?<\/p>\n
\u2014 A rhetorical question? If there were another, wonderful option in every respect, I would choose that too. Alright, let's drop this topic. After all, each of us has our own weaknesses, \u2014 Leo generously suggested.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Let\u2019s leave it, I think we\u2019ve rambled a bit; our colleagues are probably worried.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I don\u2019t think so; they\u2019re likely completely absorbed in what they\u2019re seeing. Yes, we\u2019ll join them now. Our administrator resolved your little issue; now the app has a partial immersion option. Can you imagine how tough it would have been for you on Mars? The simplest everyday action turns into a huge problem. Sooner or later, Martian network standards will reach even these backwaters of civilization. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis was quite tired of these hints about his mild underdevelopment. He was about to snap, but upon catching the cold, mocking gaze of his interlocutor, he realized he needed to find a better response. <\/p>\n
\u2014 I see that our conversation, apart from discussing my horrifying phobias, keeps coming back to Mars: Mars this, Mars that\u2026 What\u2019s up with that? Apparently, I\u2019m not the only one with certain complexes.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, I said, everyone has them. <\/p>\n
\u2014 But you don\u2019t want to disclose them.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You can disclose them, \u2014 Leo generously allowed. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Why would I? I think I'll keep such interesting information to myself.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Keep it, \u2014 Leo grinned wider, \u2014 do you think information about my special feelings for Mars has any value? I\u2019ll tell you more; I wouldn\u2019t mind exchanging this dreary Russian reality for Martian life.<\/p>\n
\u2014 But you don\u2019t just want to move; otherwise, you would have followed your brother ages ago. You want to hold the same position there as you do here. But it seems it\u2019s not working out; the Martians don\u2019t recognize you as an equal?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0For a moment, something akin to old anger sparked in Leo\u2019s eyes but then quickly vanished. <\/p>\n
\u2014 I\u2019ll get a chance to improve my position. But maybe you\u2019re right; there\u2019s no point in digging into other people's problems. Let\u2019s think about how to help each other instead. <\/p>\n
\u2014 And how do you propose we help each other? \u2013 Denis was surprised; he hadn\u2019t expected such a turn in the conversation.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I can help with, for instance, your psychological issues, \u2014 Leo replied with a slight hint in his voice, \u2014 a branch of the Martian company \u2018DreamLand\u2019 recently opened in Moscow, and they specialize in healing human souls. You should check them out.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018Is he joking? \u2013 Denis thought. \u2013 If there\u2019s some hidden meaning in his words, I didn\u2019t catch it.\u2019 <\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, I\u2019ll check it out, will you give me a discount on their services?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No problem, my brother works there, but at the main office on Mars. I'll arrange a decent discount for you, \u2014 Leo said this in the most casual tone, as if he were discussing a trivial service for a friend, but there was still a slight hint in his voice. <\/p>\n
\u2014 How can I help you with that?<\/p>\n
\u2014 We'll see. First, go to 'DreamLand', they\u2019re not magicians there either, maybe they won't be able to do anything.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cThis is a strange proposal, but apparently, it\u2019s about some informal contacts that should be kept away from prying eyes,\u201d Denis concluded. \u201cWell, in the end, I have nothing to lose, I\u2019ll drop by this shady Martian outfit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 Alright, I\u2019ll swing by in the next few days if I have time, \u2014 Denis agreed with a similarly indifferent exterior but a slight hint in his voice. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Perfect. Now, I invite you to the wonderful world of augmented reality since normal virtual reality is not available to you.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0This time, there were no theatrical effects; a huge hologram unfolded almost instantly, obscuring the accessible view. In the hologram, Denis was seated in the same position, slightly behind everyone. A control console for his avatar appeared on the left. He automatically tried to look behind him, but the image immediately dimmed and started lagging. Leo, strangely enough, also decided to stick with a simple hologram; Denis could only assume that the doctor was worried about his condition.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Before their eyes lay the scene of a secret underground bunker where forbidden experiments on humans were conducted. Solid metal and concrete, gray uneven walls, the hum of powerful fans, dim daylight lamps hanging from the ceiling. The room appeared abandoned at the moment, with enormous autoclaves no longer in operation. Their insides, thoroughly scraped and washed, with a tangle of tube-like structures resembling intestines peeking through translucent doors, were unabashedly visible. They were almost at the center of the room, next to computer terminals and holographic projectors, which were currently displaying some schemes, graphs, and diagrams, as well as a model of a combat cybernetic system, that is, a super soldier. For Denis, it was a hologram within a hologram; for those experiencing full immersion, the impression was probably somewhat different. Super soldiers, I must say, made a striking impression with their very muscular and warlike appearance.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The opposite side of the hall, separated by barbed wire under high voltage, smoothly transitioned into grim caves, in the depths of which were cells barred with steel bars as thick as a human arm. A muffled but still chilling roar emanated from there. Most likely, there were prototype super soldiers that had not gone into series production. All these gloomy dungeons were hardly to be taken at face value, but Denis felt that such mockery of their own project was unbecoming for a serious Martian corporation.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Among the staff of the Research Institute, there was another person, of short stature, wearing a white coat draped over his shoulders, neat and pulled together. With his right hand, he skillfully manipulated numerous holograms while excitedly explaining something. He had light hair and attentive gray eyes. One strand of hair was replaced with a bundle of fiber optic threads. \"Our best chip developer,\" Leo quietly noted. However, this was unnecessary; Maxim, that was the developer's name, paused his story upon seeing Denis and nearly rushed over to hug him, stopping just in time, seemingly having read the system's note that in their full immersion, Denis was present, so to speak, virtually, only in the form of an avatar.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, is that really you? I certainly didn\u2019t expect to see you here.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Likewise. You mentioned working at 'Telecom,' but I thought you were talking about the Martian office.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I had to return for the project, \u2014 Max replied evasively.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It's been a while since we last met.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yeah, probably about five years, \u2014 Maxim hesitated, it turned out they didn't have much to say to each other.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You've changed a lot, Max; found a good job and look well...<\/p>\n
\u2014 But you, Dan, haven't changed at all. People can change in five years, find new jobs...<\/p>\n
\u2014 Are you two acquainted? \u2013 Leo finally recovered from the new shock. \u2013 Anyway, silly question. You never cease to surprise me.<\/p>\n
\u2014 We studied at the same school, \u2014 Denis explained.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Oh, come on, \u2014 Anton jumped into the conversation, apparently finding the situation amusing, \u2014 Denis is truly a mystery, an antique neurochip is just the beginning. Is it not clear that they share a long and tender relationship? If we learn the details of this relationship, we will certainly be even more surprised...<\/p>\n
\u2014 Colleagues, \u2014 Lapin decisively motioned his giggling deputy aside, \u2014 Maxim was about to finish his story, and we\u2019ve already lost too much time.<\/p>\n
\u2014 We\u2019ll talk later, \u2014 Max unsteadily walked back to his previous spot.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The subsequent narrative turned out somewhat disjointed; at times, the speaker seemed to \"freeze up,\" as if lost in his thoughts, yet it was still interesting. Since Denis only managed to get through the table of contents from the materials provided by the RSAD Research Institute for review, he gleaned a lot of new information from this talk. Of course, Max did not reveal any special secrets, but he spoke quite plainly and with great expertise. From his words, it was clear that numerous similar projects in the past had ended in complete or partial failure due to incorrect initial concepts. The predecessors of the RSAD Research Institute, fascinated by the possibilities of cloning and genetic modifications, constantly attempted to churn out an army of monsters resembling either orcs, werewolves, or some other dubious characters. Nothing worthwhile came of this: the considerable time required for the organisms to mature (at least ten years, and who knows how many more for unsuccessful experiments) led the project to lose its relevance. In the sick fantasies of some \"cyberneticists,\" bolder experiments were born, aimed at creating completely unintelligent beings ready to go into battle immediately after hatching from the bodies of the infected populace, but these were more akin to biological weapons. Ghost units were also mentioned, that fought for the homeland and emperor as one of the few projects brought to fruition, but even this was given an unflattering verdict: \"Yes, it's interesting, exotic, but it holds no particular value for study. Furthermore, \u2014 here Max wrinkled his nose in disgust, \u2014 all of this is extremely immoral, and combat effectiveness has not been proven.\" It suddenly dawned on Denis that the attractive, in quotes, interior design was a mockery not of the organization itself, but of its less successful predecessors. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Curiously, did the others notice these intriguing nuances? Denis sat behind everyone and could easily see each person's reaction. The boss seemed to be bored, resting his plump hand on his impressive chin, listlessly glancing around. The twins attentively absorbed every word, occasionally clarifying something and nodding together after appropriate explanations. Anton was, of course, doing everything he could to show that he had studied the material thoroughly unlike some others, constantly interrupting the speaker with comments like: \"Ah, so that\u2019s what it is! I couldn\u2019t quite grasp how nanorobots are involved in tissue regeneration, this question, in your remarkable manual, seems to be insufficiently covered.\" At first, Max tried very gently to explain to Anton that he was slightly mistaken or reducing everything to a dilettante and primitive level, and then he simply began to agree with him. Denis could literally feel Leo's sardonic smirk on his face.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The main idea and feature of the RSAD Institute project was that all work was carried out with experienced professional soldiers. The interested organization selected the best employees from its security service, preferably in good physical shape and no older than thirty, and transferred them under the guardianship of the Institute for about two months. After a series of surgical operations, ordinary soldiers were transformed into super-soldiers. The procedure did not affect the mental abilities of the future super-soldiers and was even partially reversible. Of course, this system had its drawbacks. No matter what, a human could not be turned into a terminator. As Max explained, although soldiers were the most important component of the system, without other components such as drones, 'smart' weapons, and armor, they were not meant to fight. Only the fusion of man and machine made the system truly deadly. It was clear that the system's purpose was primarily for targeted special operations, not for breaking through the 'Mannerheim Line'. Yes, and such soldiers could make mistakes and feel fear. However, if Denis correctly interpreted some vague hints, it was possible to make adjustments to the basic design at the client's request: to strip the super-soldiers of fear, doubts, and the ability to question orders.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Okay, Max, \u2014 Leo could no longer hold back, clearly pressed for time, \u2014 I think we have understood the main idea. Does anyone object if we proceed to demonstrate the tactical simulator?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0There were restrained murmurs of approval.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Max, you are free to go. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Max politely said goodbye and quickly faded from the hologram. The doctor immediately joined the others in their complete immersion, in a rather strange way that only Denis could appreciate. His hologram suddenly bent, dimming and shimmering in all the colors of the rainbow, towards Leo, like a giant hungry amoeba, and, separating a trembling translucent image from its body, wholly absorbed everything into itself, leaving only a shell with empty eyes in the chair. For everyone else, of course, nothing unusual happened; Leo simply got up from his place and walked to where Max had stood before. He turned and looked at Denis with a cold smirk. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Computer models of super soldiers, completely devoid of self-preservation instincts, adorned from head to toe with ammunition belts and clad in black armor, stormed skyscrapers, bunkers, and underground shelters. They showcased space battles, planetary fights, and night skirmishes where only the bright traces of flying bullets were visible. Soldiers ran through plasma fire, across rows of enemy tanks and infantry, over minefields and blazing cities, running without fear or defeat across the tactical simulator's expanses. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, are you not too busy?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Unnoticed, Max grabbed one of the empty chairs and sat down next to him.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0- Seems not.<\/p>\n
Denis attempted to minimize the hologram to a small window, but someone forgot to add that option to the network application. In the end, he simply closed the connection via his tablet, sending Leo a message to prevent the local emergency services from rushing to him again. <\/p>\n
\u2014 You know, I couldn't even minimize your hologram \u2013 typical telecom indifference, he complained to Max.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So, is it any different at INKIS? <\/p>\n
\u2014 Not really, it might even be worse: our networks are old.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, you really haven't changed at all.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What did I say?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Nothing special, you've always had a knack for healthy criticism towards your own organization. How are you holding up there?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I'm managing, work is work, it won't run away into the woods. Is everything arranged differently for you guys?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Max responded with a mocking snort.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Of course it's different. Martian corporations are not a job, it's a way of life. We love our syndicate and are loyal to it until death.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And you don't sing hymns in the morning?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, we don\u2019t sing hymns, although I\u2019m sure many wouldn\u2019t mind. Everything here is different, Dan: our own circle of friends, our schools for children, our shops, separate residential areas. Our closed world, into which it is almost impossible to enter from the street, but I managed to get in.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, congratulations, but why did you suddenly descend from your telecom heights to plain Russian workers?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I don't forget my old friends.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Then maybe you can find an old friend a cozy spot in Telecom?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Are you sure that's what you want?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Do they make you sign in blood, not eat pork on Saturdays? If anything, I'm ready and I can sing hymns. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Much worse, for this job you pay with yourself and your memories. You will have to voluntarily forget yourself and your past, otherwise the system will reject you. To become one of them, you'll have to turn yourself inside out. Basically, that\u2019s what I wanted to do: start a new life on Mars and shove all that pointless, careless Russian past far away into a dusty closet. I\u2019m so fed up with our country, everything here seems to be set up in a way that hinders any rational activity. I thought a new life awaited me on Mars.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Dude, don\u2019t stress, I was joking about work. So, this new life disappointed you?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, not really, I got what I wanted. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0But Max's eyes were very sad at these words. \"I\u2019ve spent half a day at this damn Telecom, but it's already gotten to me, \u2014 thought Denis, \u2014 you can't say anything directly. Everything is recorded by hidden cameras. Should I show my ass to those curious freaks?\"<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Outside, the park quietly descended into twilight. In the conference room, the junior colleagues of the robot waiter appeared \u2013 cleaning robots. They began to trace mathematically correct spirals around the furniture, quietly humming, apparently, cleaning brought them lots of joy.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Listen, Max, is it true what they say about these\u2026 loyalty checks, you know, when they upload some programs to the chip that check all your conversations and actions for key words and topics, so you don't accidentally compromise the organization or share anything unnecessary\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 It's true, there is a special department in the security service that writes such programs and selectively reviews the recordings. One good thing: officially this structure is completely independent, no, not even the most important official of 'Telecom' has the right to view their files.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Officially, but what about in reality?<\/p>\n
\u2014 It seems to be the same.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And if you are in someone else's network, or if there is no network at all, how do they check you then?<\/p>\n
\u2014 They implant an additional memory module, which records all the data entering your brain, and then automatically transmits it to the first department.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And if you, for example, are alone with a girl, do they record everything too?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Absolutely, they carefully record it, check it, and then the whole crowd watches and laughs.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Not great, I guess? \u2013 Denis asked with exaggerated sympathy.<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, it's fine! Does it bother you that much?! Have you seen those, I don't know what to call them, preserved freaks from the first department, floating in their jars... I don't care what they look like.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Two cleaning robots suddenly stopped, their tele-cameras on long flexible arms rotating with curiosity. One came to a stop right next to Max, trying dedicatedly to look into his eyes, Max irritably kicked it, aiming for the camera, of course, he missed: the tentacle quietly retracted into the body, and the robot, avoiding trouble, went off to clean somewhere else.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I don't care, understood? Let anyone, even Schultz, poke into my personal life. He, the bastard, sticks his long nose everywhere, I don't care, but I get paid a lot of money! Enough for an expensive car, apartment, yacht, a little house on the azure coast, I have enough for everything. I have ten times more money than you, got it?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I don't doubt that even the last security guard here gets paid more than I do. Why are you worked up? \u2013 Denis was a bit taken aback.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0An awkward pause fell. A heavy tension hung in the air, almost like mercury, pooling on the floor and forming a still glossy mirror of heavy metal. Its toxic vapors gradually enveloped the conversation partners. It became so quiet that the murmuring of a stream could be heard in the twilight park outside the window.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And how's Masha, haven\u2019t you two gotten married yet? You didn't even invite me to the wedding.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Masha? Which one\u2026, oh, Masha, no, we broke up, Dan.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Another pause hung in the air.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What, you won't even ask how I'm doing? \u2013 Denis broke the silence.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, how are you?<\/p>\n
\u2014 You won't believe it, everything's awful, \u2014 Denis started readily. \u2014 A hundred times worse than for you. Not just my career, but maybe even my life hangs by a thread because of my new boss.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Who is he?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Andrey Arumov, the new head of the Moscow security service, have you heard anything about him?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I haven't heard anything good about him, Dan, seriously. Stay away from him. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Easy to say, stay away, he sits just two offices away from me. Who told you about him?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Max hesitated a bit.<\/p>\n
\u2014 From Leo, among others.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yeah, your Schultz is doing some shady deals with INKIS. And who is he to you, a supervisor?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I see, sorry Dan, but I can't go into too much detail about Leo. He wouldn\u2019t like that. What are your problems with Arumov? Is he planning to fire you?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Not exactly. It's certainly slander and insinuation, but he thinks I'm somehow connected to the former boss's affairs. Recently, there was a rather noisy case, in narrow circles, about the arrest of a smuggling gang within the security service of INKIS.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, you talk about it so calmly, \u2014 Max's face expressed genuine concern, \u2014 why are you still in Moscow? I'm not joking about Arumov; he crushes people as easily as cockroaches, he won't stop at anything. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Where do you get these curious assessments of character? Do you know him?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, and I have no desire to. Dan, let me help you get a position in Telecom, somewhere far away from here. The organization will hide you. You'll get a new life. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Wow, you\u2019ve really climbed the career ladder if you can make such offers on behalf of the organization. <\/p>\n
\u2014 On the contrary, my career is actually in decline, to be honest; I'm practically in exile here. But I have a friend in management, or rather he used to be my friend\u2026 For his level, this is a trivial matter, and he won't refuse.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You really got chummy with that Schultz, congratulations.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Leo has nothing to do with it; we\u2019re not friends. Dan, let me contact them today. I can\u2019t talk about this either, but I have some confidential information about Arumov. If you\u2019ve crossed him in any way, you can't stay in Moscow. You need to hide, and hide very well. He\u2019s a mad fanatic with immense power. <\/p>\n
\u2014 I can't work in Telecom. <\/p>\n
\u2014 They will implant a normal chip for you at the company\u2019s expense if that\u2019s the case. <\/p>\n
\u2014 That\u2019s exactly why I can\u2019t.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, what kind of childish nonsense is this? You're in deadly danger, and you're still playing your adolescent nonconformism. When we were in school, that was cool, but now\u2026 it's time to make a choice. You can't escape the system; it will catch up with everyone anyway.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cIt doesn\u2019t seem like Max is just showing off with his proposal,\u201d Dan thought. \u201cMaybe this is fate: a strange, almost unbelievable meeting with an old friend. What have I achieved in the past thirty years? Nothing, really, so it would be foolish to turn my nose up at such gifts. Fate is giving me a chance to live a normal life: to get a decent job, start a family, have kids. No, of course, I won\u2019t change the world, but I will be happy.\u201d The ghost of evenings by the fireplace filled with children\u2019s laughter beckoned him from a beautiful distance, where everything was planned and scheduled for the next fifty years. And from this hope for a simple, happy life, he felt a sharp pang in his chest. \u201cI have to agree,\u201d Dan thought, feeling cold, but his lips, almost against his will, said something entirely different:<\/p>\n
\u2014 I\u2019ll call you as soon as I think of something.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Please don\u2019t drag it out.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Alright, maybe I\u2019ll figure it out myself somehow.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You won\u2019t figure it out with Arumov, believe me.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Let it go, Max. How are your super soldiers doing? Are we going to see them today or not?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Probably not.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Seriously, Lapin will be thrilled; there will be a reason to not sign anything. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Because of you, by the way. Soon Leo will announce that we can\u2019t demonstrate the super soldiers due to technical problems, like they\u2019re all undergoing routine maintenance. But the real reason is that Leo doesn\u2019t want to show them to someone without cosmetic programs.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Are there some issues with their appearance? What about everything you sang about Telecom\u2019s social responsibility five minutes ago?<\/p>\n
\u2014 We all sometimes sing what we\u2019re told. There are indeed some problems with their appearance. All those tales about our cyber monsters socializing normally are just tales. The expensive cosmetic programs are what turn those tales into reality. Without them, everyone will shy away from our poor super soldiers. And there will be no continuation of the species for them either. I honestly hope they won\u2019t choose family men.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Still, your little house on the C\u00f4te d'Azur has its certain drawbacks. <\/p>\n
\u2014 This isn't my project; I was just pushed into this until the situation is clarified. But yes, it's true that this particular research institute is ruining lives for its own selfish interests; there will always be those willing to engage in it. I just dreamed of using my talents for something more beneficial: for example, creating new types of engineered retroviruses. It's a very promising area of research; with them, people might even stop aging and getting sick altogether.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, your retroviruses can have various applications. <\/p>\n
\u2014 That's true. Want to take a look at them, just not officially, of course?<\/p>\n
\u2014 On super soldiers? Wouldn't Schulz have a problem with such initiative?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, the main thing is that this doesn\u2019t leak officially. All the genuinely important people in the project have been aware for a long time; it's not much of a secret. I don\u2019t really understand what he's scared of: maybe he doesn\u2019t want to traumatize the delicate psyche of our cyber-killers. Like, what if someone sees them without their makeup, and they get distressed and can\u2019t sleep well; I don\u2019t know. In short, don\u2019t tell anyone about this.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I\u2019m not a chatterbox. Show me.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Then please, follow me.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Max walked forward with broad, confident strides. Denis looked around constantly and unconsciously tried to stay close to the wall. After they crossed a long corridor from one office building to another and began descending into the real telecom underground, he immediately felt insecure. They had gone too far, and there was no chance of getting back on his own. For a person sent into exile, Max moved through the automatic checkpoints with remarkable confidence, especially with a stranger beside him. First, they descended underground in one elevator and passed through steel airtight gates marked with an orange stripe. They walked through several corridors, took another elevator down to a door marked with a yellow stripe. They passed several scanning devices, then moved along a long white wall two stories high. As Max explained, clean high-class rooms where molecular chips are cultivated were behind it. After descending in another elevator, they found themselves at a gate with a green stripe, but this time, two armed guards stood behind a transparent partition in front of it. A remotely controlled gun with ten barrels was menacingly swiveling from the ceiling.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Hello, Petrovich, \u2014 Max greeted the older man. \u2013 A client from INKIS has come to admire our SS men.<\/p>\n
\u2014 That's how you call them, \u2014 Denis snorted.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Actually, someone from their office has been here; there was a really creepy bald guy, \u2014 Petrovich replied uncertainly, \u2014 and it looks like you just whipped up the request.<\/p>\n
\u2014 But I can lead guests into the green zone.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Sure, but let me call your boss. No offense, Max.<\/p>\n
\u2014 No problem, go ahead.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Max took Denis aside.<\/p>\n
\u2014 If Leo calls, \u2014 he explained, \u2014 they might turn us away, but that's okay, at least we had a walk. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Yeah, having a walk is great, but if I get shredded by all those barrels, that would be unfortunate, \u2014 Denis replied, nodding at the gun on the ceiling.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Don't worry, it seems to fire some kind of paralyzing bullets.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Oh, in that case, there\u2019s nothing to worry about.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Five minutes later, Petrovich summoned them and raised his hands apologetically:<\/p>\n
\u2014 Your boss isn't answering.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What is he busy with that is so important? \u2014 Max wondered. \u2013 Of course, keep an eye on it, but be a bit more diplomatic with the client, or else the contract will fall through, and we'll all be in trouble. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Just a moment, I'll have a word with the shift supervisor... Okay, go ahead, \u2014 said Petrovich a minute later, \u2014 but Max, don\u2019t throw me under the bus.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Don\u2019t worry, we\u2019ll just take a quick peek and then head back.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The gates with the green stripe opened silently. Behind them was a huge room filled with rows of lockers along the walls. Right in front of Denis, a menacing warning appeared: 'Attention! You are entering the green zone. Movement of visitors in the green zone without supervision is strictly prohibited. Violators will be detained immediately.'<\/p>\n
\u2014 Hey, Sussanin, they\u2019re threatening to put my face to the floor here.<\/p>\n
\u2014 The main thing is not to stick your nose where it doesn\u2019t belong. And don\u2019t even think about turning off the chip.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I think I\u2019ll take off my contacts and headphones, but I won\u2019t turn anything off. I want to see your beauties without any makeup. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis carefully hid the lenses in a jar of water.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Put on your suit, Dan, from here on it's a clean zone. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0After another small room where they had to endure a cleansing aerosol shower, they finally gained access to the telecommunications secrets. The further path lay through a dimly lit tunnel. A greenish light emanating from the walls slowly brightened just ten to twenty meters ahead of them, illuminating either small insect-like robots or a tangle of some circular tubes and hoses. A small monorail ran along the ceiling, and transparent sarcophagi floated above their heads a couple of times, inside which were frozen faces and bodies. Robots resembling octopuses and jellyfish were also crawling on the bodies within the sarcophagi. Occasionally, there were windows in the walls. Denis peered into one of them: he saw a spacious operating room. In the center was a pool filled with something akin to thick jelly. Inside floated a disemboweled body, from which a whole web of tubes led to the nearby equipment. Above the pool hovered a robot vivisector, clearly taken from a nightmarish vision, resembling a gigantic octopus. It was cutting and shredding something inside the unresponsive organism. A laser beam flashed, while simultaneously a dozen tentacles with clamps, dispensers, and micromanipulators dove deep into the body, quickly doing something and surfacing again, with the laser flashing once more. The doctors apparently controlled the operation remotely; only one person in a thick jumpsuit with a mask on his face was present in the room. He merely observed the process. Against the wall stood another sarcophagus with a body waiting its turn. Max nudged his companion forward and requested that he keep his mouth shut. Nearby, small metallic insect-like robots clicked and tapped in a disturbing manner. Among the entire environment, they bothered Denis the most. He couldn\u2019t shake the feeling that the cunning machines were gathering in a swarm in the greenish gloom behind them, ready to pounce from all sides, jab their sharp steel legs into soft flesh, and drag him into the pool with the robot vivisector, who would methodically disassemble him into pieces. And he would float in several jars, his brain in one, and his intestines next door. <\/p>\n
\u2014 What is this place? \u2014 Denis inquired, trying to distract himself from the horrifying thoughts.<\/p>\n
\u2014 An automated medical center where the most complex surgeries are performed: organ transplants, cancer tumor removals, and if you ask, they can even attach a third leg. Oh, and they also assemble our SS troopers here. Follow me.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis was reluctant to enter through the side door first, but Max was impatiently huffing behind him. Unconsciously tensing up, he stepped inside and stole a glance upwards. The squid was right there. Comfortable perched on a crane beam under the ceiling, it was busily sorting through its tentacles and menacingly blinking its red eye. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Look, Dan, our mini-army.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Max waved his hand towards the rows of transparent containers, where unusual beings lay lost in a deep lethargic sleep. <\/p>\n
\u2014 You can take off the jumpsuit, no one will see. I\u2019ll take mine off too.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis peeled off the uncomfortable silicone fabric and stealthily approached the nearest container. Perhaps it was once a person, but now the creature inside had only human-like outlines remaining. The humanoid was tall, around two meters, thin, and very wiry, its muscles knotted around its body like thick ropes. It resembled an intertwining of ropes or tree roots, but not a human body. Its skin was glossy black with a metallic sheen, like a polished car body, covered in tiny scales. From its bald head, several thick steel whiskers protruded, each half a meter long. Here and there, sockets jutted out from its body. Its black, sickle-shaped faceted eyes dimly reflected green light. A pair of smaller eyes was visible at the back of its head.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Good-looking, \u2014 Denis commented on the unusual sight, \u2014 If you met something like this on the street, you'd definitely soil your pants. But why does it have whiskers on its head and scales?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Those are vibrissae, a kind of sensory organ to detect environmental vibrations, maybe something else, I\u2019m not sure. The scales are extra protection, in case the armor doesn\u2019t hold.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Did you come up with such a monster?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, Dan, I was just finishing up a couple of chips in the control system. To be completely honest, the main concept is actually borrowed from imperial ghosts. It's all pretty much as I said, but the heavy lifting in turning this into a monster is done by cunning retroviruses, which gradually reshape the organism's genotype under the supervision of specialists. Only in the empire they injected the retroviruses directly into the egg cell, so the baby out of the autoclave came out looking quite frightening, even scarier than these. We simply don\u2019t have time to wait for them to grow, so the process has been slightly refined and accelerated. There is certainly some loss of quality, but it will suffice for our purposes.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I see you\u2019re spinning tales to your clients.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Let\u2019s say, the real client \u2013 Arumov knows much more.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I see, and we\u2019re just the small players here. Is there anyone we can pin against the wall if these freaks suddenly get riled up and start causing trouble?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, they won\u2019t start causing trouble; the control is multi-tiered and very reliable.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So, if you\u2019ve copied everything from the ghosts, they also hate Martians.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yep, your like-minded folks, \u2014 Max smirked, \u2014 the Martians were leading the development, I think they made sure to have the right target of class hatred.<\/p>\n
\u2014 How did secret imperial viruses get to you? \u2013 Denis asked in the most casual tone.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I\u2019m not in the loop on that\u2026 stop asking such questions, the less you know, the longer you\u2019ll live. Let me wake up a couple of SS men, you\u2019ll get to know them better.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis jumped back from the containers as if scalded. <\/p>\n
\u2014 E-e-eh, let\u2019s not. I\u2019ve met enough, and Schultz is probably getting impatient, cursing in his bad German.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Alright, Dan, don\u2019t be a coward. I swear, everything is under control. They have software limitations; they can\u2019t attack or do anything without orders.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Software? I don't trust software limitations.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Stop it, they have a control chip in every muscle; all I need to do is enter the command with the right code, and they'll drop like a sack of potatoes.<\/p>\n
\u2014 This is a truly awful idea. Let\u2019s go instead.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0But Max was already unstoppable; he was determined to raise the monsters from the grave purely for mischievous reasons.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Wait five minutes. If you\u2019re really nervous, there\u2019s a simple verbal cancellation code; just say \"stop,\" and they\u2019ll cut off right away.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What if he plugs his ears, will the code still work?<\/p>\n
\u2014 It will work just fine, \u2014 Max was already working on the second container. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The octopus moved up to the ceiling after him and helped with some injections. Dan was ready to hug the robot like a brother, just so it would give him the wrong shot. For some reason, the super-soldiers scared him to the bone.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It\u2019s done.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Max stepped aside. Two lids slowly lifted.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Here, meet Ruslan \u2013 the commander of his own unit at the Research Institute of R.S.A.D. Grig \u2013 a regular soldier. This is Denis Kaysanov from INKIS.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Grig seemed to be the largest of them all. He was tall and broad, just standing there like a statue, showing no interest in the surrounding world. Ruslan was a bit shorter, more lively, and the intertwining ropes on his face seemed to have some meaningful expression: a mix of arrogance and complete detachment with a hint of universal sorrow in his faceted eyes. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Hello, Denis Kaysanov, nice to meet you, \u2014 Ruslan grinned, revealing a row of small sharp teeth, and glided closer to him.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The movements of the super-soldiers made just as much of an impression as their appearance. As they wore no clothes, it was evident how their muscular sinews intertwined and breathed, like a ball of snakes, propelling their bodies with incredible speed and ease. Their joints bent freely in any direction; Ruslan closed the five meters to his interlocutor in one slow, fluid leap. As they moved, the slightly rubbing scales created a faint rustling sound. The creature extended a black knotted limb for a greeting.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cDon\u2019t worry, he\u2019s completely under control, \u2014 Denis tried to steady his shaking knees, \u2014 don\u2019t show him your fear; he\u2019s sure to sense it, like a dog.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 Hey there, \u2014 he cautiously touched the limb but immediately pulled back.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What are you afraid of, Denis? \u2014 Ruslan inquired with a honeyed voice. \u2014 We don\u2019t harm peaceful citizens.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Don\u2019t mind him, Ruslan, \u2014 Max said casually, continuing to work on Grig, he can see you without the cosmetic program.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Max, please don\u2019t be a show-off, \u2014 Denis barked warningly as the faceted eyes moved closer and fixated on him with increased interest.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Really? Why can Denis see me without a program?<\/p>\n
\u2014 His chip is very old; actually, not the chip, just the lenses \u2013 he removed them, \u2014 Max replied innocently without turning around.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Two vibrissae, dangling in an arc from his forehead, unexpectedly brushed against Denis's face, and he felt a slight electric shock.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, buddy, why did you come to us without a chip? \u2014 Ruslan hissed in an even more honeyed voice.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Ma-ax! \u2014 Denis yelled, already at the top of his lungs. \u2014 Disable them, damn it!<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Suddenly, Grit, who had been standing like a statue, grabbed Max with a sharp movement, and metallic whiskers dug into his face. There was a crackle of electricity, and Max fell to the floor, screaming in agony:<\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, my chip turned off! I can\u2019t see or hear anything, call a doctor. Dan, slap me on the shoulder if you hear me, \u2014 apparently, Max didn\u2019t realize what had happened.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018I\u2019d slap you, damn demonstrator,\u2019 \u2014 Denis thought desperately. The seriousness and hopelessness of the situation were evident. Even if help arrived for the disabled chip as quickly as it had before, what would they do with the rampaging monsters? How could Petrovich help with paralyzing pellets?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Max continued to scream and blindly crawled forward, but he quickly bumped into a wall and, hitting his head painfully, stopped. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Stop? \u2014 Denis said uncertainly.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Code not accepted, highest priority operation, \u2014 Ruslan grinned wider. \u2014 Your song is over, Denis Kaysanov.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, \u2014 Max spoke up again, \u2014 there\u2019s a panel on the wall to the side, enter code 3 hash so the robot can disable the soldiers.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018Easy to say,\u2019 \u2014 Denis thought, the panel was beckoningly blinking two meters away from him, but Ruslan gently placed a hand on his shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Are you going to take the risk? \u2014 he mocked.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Please don\u2019t kill me, I have kids, the chip just broke, and there was trouble with insurance. I\u2019ll soon be getting a new one, I just had to make do... you know how uncomfortable it is, no chatting, no gaming properly... \u2014 Denis babbled, trying to convey to his opponent that no resistance was expected and he could relax. Ruslan smirked and removed his hand.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It\u2019s time to finish the operation, \u2014 Grit rumbled, \u2014 time is running out, we\u2019re at risk.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Wait, soldier, I know what I'm doing.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Accepted.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Ruslan seemed to get a bit distracted, and Denis decided that there wouldn't be another chance. He squealed like a wounded boar and kicked Ruslan in the knee, trying to poke him in the eyes with his hand, thinking it was the only vulnerable spot on the monster. He nearly hit the knee, and his hand, caught in steel pincers, was twisted until it cracked, forcing him to collapse on the floor. Nevertheless, the octopus above became interested in what was happening and reached its tentacles with syringes toward the soldiers. \"Bro,\" Denis thought through a red haze, \"I was so wrong about you, come on, bro.\" Unfortunately, the odds were too uneven; the tentacles ripped out with flesh flew into the corner of the room and lay there helplessly crossed on the floor. Grig jumped, clinging to the ceiling beam like a giant spider, the air sang and whistled from his movements. A robot ripped from its mount flew to the opposite corner, tumbling like a tumbleweed and scattering wires with screws.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, what's happening, are you still here, slap me on the shoulder, \u2014 Max yelled again, apparently feeling the vibrations of the walls from the machine that had crashed into them.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Looks like they're going to finish me off, you show-off, \u2014 Denis kept trying to break free but felt he was losing consciousness, as his hand had long been hanging on a thread. \u2013 How could this happen, I was just sitting, chatting about this and that, drinking whiskey with sausage. Damn it, why did I look at these freaks. How foolish it all turned out. I\u2019d rather have Arumov catch me, at least that would have made some sense\u2026\"<\/p>\n
\u2014 I have one question for you, Denis Kaysanov; if you answer it, you\u2019re free\u2026 Tell me, what can change human nature?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Ruslan crouched down and moved in really close, so close that Denis felt his even cool breath; he understood that he had only a couple of seconds to live.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Go to hell, kiss the ass of the Martian who answers your damn questions. He'll tell you that you're nobody, a failed experiment, you'll die in a drain\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 Gustav Kilby.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What? \u2014 Denis was taken aback, already preparing to ascend to the heavens.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Gustav Kilby, that's the name of the Martian who knows the right answer. When you meet him, be sure to ask what can change human nature.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Commander, it's time to wrap up the operation, we're dragging this out too long, \u2014 Greg said in an uncompromising tone.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Of course, soldier.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Ruslan shoved Denis to the floor with force. A black shadow lunged forward, a dull thud was heard, and there was a terrible crunch. Grig's body convulsed on the floor with a torn throat, a pool of thick black blood with a strange medicinal smell oozed from the wound.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Max, losing hope for his comrade's help, rose up, cautiously holding onto the wall, and trudged along the perimeter, hoping to find a way out.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Tell me, Denis Kaisanov: do you hate Martians? \u2014 Ruslan asked in the same honeyed voice, brushing blood off his fingers.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I hate them, and so what? They couldn't care less about my hatred.<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, we must kill people without chips, and this is much deeper than just a standard programming. There is a hidden threat in someone. <\/p>\n
\u2014 You think it's in me? Sorry, I wasn't notified about that.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It doesn't matter, no one can guess where the thread of life will lead and where it will break. Ghosts speak to me, they promised that soon I will meet the true enemy.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, \u2014 Max shouted, \u2014 it seems like my chip is waking up. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Max is also part of the system, \u2014 Ruslan hissed, \u2014 you can't trust him, you can't trust anyone. You'll be all alone, no one will help you, everyone will betray you, and those who won\u2019t betray you will die, and you won't get anything in return if you manage to win. All paths that promise gain are lies to lead you astray from the only truth. You will be alone against the entire system, but you are our last hope. Don't forget to find Gustav Kilby. Good luck in your hopeless struggle.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Thank you for the offer to fight the whole world, but I think I'll look for an easier option.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I've looked into your soul, Denis Kaisanov. You will fight.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Ruslan grinned joyfully and climbed back into the container. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ceiling with the most innocent look. Max rushed up from behind, still somewhat dazed, and began to circle around the lying Ruslan, lamenting:<\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, what the hell happened here? I was shouting, why didn\u2019t you call for help? Who wrecked the robot\u2026 Damn, what happened to Grig!?<\/p>\n
\u2014 That's what happened, Max: you telecom nerds really messed up with your soldiers. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Ruslan, report immediately what happened here, \u2014 Max demanded a bit hysterically.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Private Grig lost control, I had to neutralize him. The reasons for the incident are unknown. Report concluded.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Max, stop being foolish, call for help already, \u2014 Denis advised.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Right now.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Max shot out into the corridor like a bullet. Denis, disregarding all caution, leaned down to the lying Ruslan and whispered:<\/p>\n
\u2014 Okay, call me the enemy, but why didn't you kill me? If your program is to kill people without chips.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I was given free will.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Why would a scumbag like you need free will?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Because I have to suffer, and only those with free will can suffer.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis followed Max into the corridor. Without caring for the cleanliness of the premises, he took out a cigarette and clicked the lighter. His hands still shook, and his dislocated right arm throbbed noticeably. 'Now a shot of whiskey wouldn't hurt. A couple of glasses,' he thought. A loud, chattering crowd, with Max leading, was rushing towards him. Denis pressed himself against the wall to avoid being swept away, and a small robot crunched indignantly underfoot.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis refused medical assistance. His only desire was to leave the nightmarish research institute filled with ruthless killers, ready to sever any head unburdened by electronics without a second thought. When he returned to the conference room, Leo was already negotiating with Lapin that the protocol would be signed a little later. Everyone maintained complete composure as if nothing had happened. Max had disappeared somewhere, perhaps sensing his blunder. Denis also did not lose his cool. Only when they were already waiting for the helicopter on the pad in front of the main building did Leo quietly take Denis by the elbow and lead him aside.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Denis, I hope you accept my deepest apologies on behalf of our organization and myself for what happened. This is a ridiculous accident, Grig lost control, measures have already been taken.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It's no big deal, stuff happens. But this is no accident, Grig acted strictly according to your firmware. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, please, let's not hold any personal grudges. Yes, Max is an extraordinary idiot; he should read the secret instruction before bringing his school friends to gawk at the super soldiers.<\/p>\n
\u2014 A secret one? So, it's not in the regular instruction.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You do understand that such things are not written in more or less publicly accessible documents.<\/p>\n
\u2014 The guys without chips won't appreciate it?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Secret bookmarks in the system will negatively impact sales. To be precise, it\u2019s not even a bookmark, but... trust me, Dan, this is not directed against you at all. In our time, encountering a person without a chip is incredibly rare, and for them to suddenly be somewhere they shouldn't be is just beyond comprehension.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Not aimed? When they release them to have some fun, will you shoot me an email? <\/p>\n
\u2014 You will never meet them again. In INKIS, they won\u2019t let you near them, I promise. You can\u2019t imagine how conservative Martian leadership can be. If there is any dusty order from a hundred years ago, they will definitely shove it everywhere.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Ah, now I understand, it\u2019s all about the dusty Martian bureaucracy.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Dan, let\u2019s be reasonable. What will change if you start shouting from every corner about how Telecom breeds killers in the basements? Do you really hope to break the game of a serious Martian corporation? It will be worse for everyone, and you\u2019ll start being seen as the town lunatic.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Everyone says that when they want to hide something.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, in principle, yes, but on the other hand, they are often right. By the way, the offer Max made is still on the table. I am also willing to support it. You will get a good chip and any professional courses of your choice at the company\u2019s expense, to avoid repeated cases, so to speak. You don\u2019t even have to stay with Telecom; go wherever you want. Such an offer should satisfy everyone.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I\u2019ll think about it.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u201cAll roads that promise profit are lies to lead you off the only true one,\u201d Denis remembered, \u201cugh, I can\u2019t believe I\u2019m about to buy this creep\u2019s tales. Let him suffer without me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 If something doesn\u2019t suit you, don\u2019t hesitate to speak up. We will definitely meet reasonable wishes.<\/p>\n
\u2014 We will settle, Leo.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So, are we agreed?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, almost\u2026 What should I say to Lapin and the others?<\/p>\n
\u2014 You don't need to say anything. You were chatting with a school friend, who took you to show his workplace. That's it; you never saw any super soldiers. About the arm, by the way: you fell there, slipped.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It hardly hurts.<\/p>\n
\u2014 That's great, \u2014 Leo allowed himself a wide, friendly smile. \u2013 Stop by 'DreamLand' when you decide. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Wait, one little question: why did you switch to full immersion so strangely? \u2014 Denis suddenly remembered.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Didn't get it?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Remember when you joined the others in full immersion after our incredibly interesting conversation about phobias and the fates of humanity? It looked like you were sucked into virtual reality, and only I could see it.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Did someone actually hit you on the head? Do you really not want to see a doctor? \u2013 Leo raised his left eyebrow theatrically. \u2013 I can't quite picture what you're trying to say, but do you think I went through all this trouble and cooked up a script in three seconds just to poke fun at you?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, you turned and looked at me like that..., \u2014 Denis replied uncertainly. \u2013 I don't know, maybe you have a special option in all your programs: to scare off a visiting neurophobe. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Take a day off, that's my advice.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Of course, \u2014 Denis waved his hand in annoyance.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0It seemed that his mood was already in the complete dumps, and there was nowhere worse to go. Yet still, it felt like a cold shadow touched his face. The choice isn't cheerful: either he's starting to hallucinate, or a hungry amoeba is lurking in the bushes. 'Or Hans is having a blast; let's stick with that option,' Denis decided.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0A cool autumn evening wrapped the park vegetation in its wings, causing the revived shadows of telecom's nightmares to dance around a small, illuminated spot. Knobby monsters, steel octopuses, and hungry amoebas - everything mixed in the treacherous light of the streetlights. The sound of an approaching helicopter was heard.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0All the way back, Lapin was singing like a nightingale about how great buddy Dan performed during the negotiations. Anton, observing this scene, even felt a bit down. Denis smiled with effort.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"You really set me up, Max,\" he thought, \"as if Arumov wasn't enough, and the fact that I almost got killed wasn't bad enough, I'm now knee-deep in the intimate secrets of one of the most powerful Martian corporations. They won't let me just roam around with a bag full of their dirty laundry. They won't be lured in by chips and courses; they'll take care of it some other way. And of course, I'm no better: why the hell did I stick my nose in where I wasn't wanted? Of course, I wanted to take a look at the super soldiers. I should have just gone to the zoo and gawked at an elephant, idiot.\" It felt uncomfortable to realize that the program for killing people without chips was embedded in all the super soldiers. It might not be specifically aimed at him; perhaps it was prepared against the Eastern Block. But if some lieutenant accidentally got crushed, no one would shed a tear. It was unpleasant to feel like a pathetic defenseless bug that could be stomped on in the grand game of corporations.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The helicopter, lifting a cloud of dry debris, landed on the roof of INKIS. <\/p>\n
\"Are you coming, Dan?\" Lapin asked.<\/p>\n
\"No, I'll stand for a while; I need some fresh air. It was a heavy day.\"<\/p>\n
\"Alright, see you tomorrow. I'll definitely note your special role in the negotiations.\"<\/p>\n
\"Don't worry about it, see you tomorrow.\"<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0When the colleagues left, Denis approached the very edge again and bravely stood on the parapet. The view from this side was quite unpleasant: abandoned areas were fenced off with stone blocks and coils of barbed wire. Officially, no one lived there, but many types of bandits, drug addicts, and homeless people inhabited the area, and they didn\u2019t necessarily have to be human since, with advances in high technology, losing one's human form had become so easy. Bosses like Leo Schulz paid good money for various useful mutations and implants, for long life and absolute health. Some paid nothing at all, but they still received these enhancements. They had to be tested on \"volunteers\" first. If you listened closely, an anguished howl sometimes rose from the slums, sending chills down one's spine. And during the construction of the institute, this area probably looked quite decent. Maybe even astronauts lived here with their families while the dream of manned flights to the stars was still alive.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Along the rubble and fences, winding whimsically, two ribbons of railway stretched, on one of which a train was slowly crawling. It seemed to be moving very close. Denis could hear the clanking of old mechanisms and the ringing, the thumping of wheels, which resonated in his ears long after the train had turned into a smoky haze on the horizon. He could almost see the faces of the people sitting inside; rather, he just knew what those faces should look like: gloomy, tired, listlessly gazing at the dreary surroundings. For some reason, Denis envied these not very happy people who could simply sit by the window in an uncomfortable noisy carriage and think of nothing. Watching the endless rusty warehouses, pipes, poles drifting past, broken roads, and abandoned factories, long forgotten by everyone. Sooner or later, this dying urban landscape would be replaced by another. By the time the train left the outskirts of Moscow, only a couple of people would remain in the carriage, sleeping or reading tabloid newspapers in different corners. And then no one would be left at all, and Denis would travel alone. He would be the last to jump off onto a nameless worn-out platform made of old concrete crumbling beneath his feet. He would watch the departing chain of the train, look at the dense forest, listen to its conversation with the gentle wind, and go wherever his eyes led him. And at the end of the journey, he would surely find what he was looking for; it\u2019s just a pity that, for now, Denis didn't even know what exactly he wanted to find.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u2014 Hi, Lena. How are you?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis carefully perched on the edge of the desk in front of secretary Arumova, who was perfumed and made up, wearing a fashionable blouse and a skirt skirting propriety, hugging her prominent artificial curves. Although if approached impartially, the artificiality of her forms was obvious only to those who had known her for a very long time, like D\u00e9n. Her informal duties in relation to the management, besides making the already murky instructions of the management even more complicated, were no secret to anyone. For a time, Denis even tried to be nice to her: he brought flowers and chocolates, hoping to somehow improve his shaky career position, but he realized that it looked pathetic, and he stopped.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I'm doing fine, \u2014 Lenochka tried to gently push Denis off the table to avoid damaging the drying nail polish, \u2014 but yours, it seems, isn't so great. What trouble did you manage to get into?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Is Arumov not in a good mood?<\/p>\n
\u2014 It's just awful, and clearly, it has something to do with you.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, maybe you should go see him first, relieve the tension?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Very funny, \u2014 Lenochka made a haughty face, \u2014 let's see you relieve the tension as the punching bag today. I'm not going to him again.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What, is it really that bad?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes, it's really awful, are you listening to what I'm saying? <\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, at least say a kind word for me.<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, Denchik, not this time. You know, I really don't like it when he looks at me like THAT and stays silent, like a damn fish. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018Yes, it\u2019s really a mess, \u2014 Denis thought, \u2014 and clearly, it\u2019s related to yesterday\u2019s trip to that damn institute.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2014 Come on, go already. I should have sent you right away instead of chatting here\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 Then goodbye, cry when they take me to the asteroid belt.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Oh, Denchik, not funny at all.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018Oh, Lenochka, \u2014 Denis thought, \u2014 you\u2019re a fool, of course, but beautiful\u2026 I should have taken the chance and pressed you against some dark corner, it looks like it\u2019s time to die anyway.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Arumov, as expected, was sprawling lazily in a black leather chair and didn't even acknowledge the entrant with a nod. There was only one low and uncomfortable chair by the enormous T-shaped table with a green stripe in the middle. Denis had to choose from the chairs lined up against the wall. For a moment, he considered annoying Arumov by sitting against the wall, like in a queue at a clinic, but he decided against it. It was enough that he dared to choose a piece of furniture not intended for him.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The silence dragged on, worse still, Arumov shamelessly bored into his subordinate with his gaze and smirked unpleasantly. Den tried to meet his gaze, but couldn't last even two seconds. That unblinking, lifeless stare was unbearable for anyone. <\/p>\n
\u2014 You called, comrade colonel? \u2014 Denis surrendered.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And again, the oppressive silence. \u2018What a bastard, he knows that waiting is worse than the execution itself,\u2019 \u2014 Den thought, but again he couldn't hold out.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Did you want to have a chat?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Have a chat? \u2014 Arumov inquired in the most mocking tone. \u2014 No, lieutenant, actually, I was planning to throw you out of the gates of this establishment.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis made an incredible effort and looked into the colonel's face, carefully avoiding his gaze. <\/p>\n
\u2014 So can I go?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0But the colonel was not fooled by his tricks with the glances.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You will leave after you explain to me why you're meddling in something that's not your business.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Was that a rhetorical question? What business am I meddling in?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Rhetorical?! \u2013 Arumov hissed. \u2013 Yes, it was a rhetorical question, and if you don\u2019t plan to just get away with a simple dismissal, of course, you can choose not to answer.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018There are practically open threats. Indeed, it\u2019s a tough situation. \u2013 Denis frantically considered the situation. \u2013 What has him so angry? It\u2019s definitely that damned trip, that Lapin \u2013 bastard! Spoke a word to the management. It\u2019s definitely Lapin or Anton. Both of them, if pressed, would spin such tales that you'd never live it down.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2014 There's no need to look at me with puppy eyes as if you were innocent. One of your accomplices has been sweating here all morning, swearing on his mother's grave that a certain Lieutenant Kaysanov somehow 'struck a deal' with Doctor Schultz to postpone signing the meeting protocol and other important documents. \u2013 Arumov did not hesitate to confirm the worst fears regarding the colleagues.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Other documents?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Other documents, \u2014 Arumov mimicked, \u2014 and I see you didn\u2019t understand the situation at all before jumping in with your lieutenant face. The main financial documents haven\u2019t been signed, Schultz isn\u2019t answering, supposedly he\u2019s away on a business trip. And I had high hopes for this project, and now it\u2019s all falling apart because of you.<\/p>\n
\u2014 That can't be true. Why the hell would Schultz listen to me?! If he decided to bail, that\u2019s his decision.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, I\u2019m also curious why the hell\u2026 What were you discussing with him?!<\/p>\n
\u2014 Nothing much, we were just drinking and chatting about completely unrelated topics.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Stop pretending to be an idiot. Get to the point, for Christ's sake! \u2013 Arumov barked so loudly that the windows shook. \u2013 What were you talking about? Do you think, lieutenant, you can play the hero here?! Do you think nothing is known about your past antics? I know everything about you: what you live on, who you sleep with, how many times a week you call your mom in Finland!<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Arumov was seriously angry; he turned red, jumped out of his chair, leaned over Denis, and continued yelling directly in his face.<\/p>\n
\"You, lieutenant, have this in my one and only folder! If even a single sheet from this folder gets sent where it shouldn't, you\u2019ll see the pattern of the sky for the last time on the cosmodrome! Do you understand me or not? Or do you only sing, nightingale, when you\u2019re not asked to?\" <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The door slowly opened, and Lena cautiously peeked through the narrow gap, ready to hide back instantly.<\/p>\n
\"Andrei Vladimirovich, the supply people were here...\"<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Arumov fixed her with a completely insane look.<\/p>\n
\"Sorry to interrupt, would you like tea or coffee...?\" Lena was completely flustered. <\/p>\n
\"What the hell tea, go to work!\"<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Lena disappeared instantly, but it seemed Arumov had cooled down a bit too. Denis carefully wiped the sweat from his forehead: 'Phew, it seems he personally won't kill me. He'll leave that to the professional thugs, but still, Lena, thank you, I won\u2019t forget this if I survive.'<\/p>\n
\"You know, lieutenant,\" Arumov lazily slouched back in the chair, \"I'll tell you a cautionary tale: about my comrade who loved to meddle in other people's business. Can you guess how it ended?\"<\/p>\n
\"It apparently ended poorly.\"<\/p>\n
\"Yes, poorly. And so badly..., no one even expected it to turn out that way. In general, somewhat like your situation.\"<\/p>\n
\"Well, my story isn't over yet.\"<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Arumov said nothing in response, he again smirked unpleasantly, suddenly threw his legs on the table, and pulled out a cigarette.<\/p>\n
\"Do you smoke?\"<\/p>\n
\"Only when I\u2019m nervous. Right now, I don\u2019t feel like it.\"<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Arumov grimaced slightly and puffed on his cigarette.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So here's the story: I had a comrade, let's call him Captain Petrov. He didn't really report to me directly, but I still tried to keep him in check from time to time. He was always acting like a hero: an excellent combat training officer, a father figure to the soldiers, and a headache for all the commanders. He didn't want to comply with the decaying system, and one wonders why he even became an officer. Whenever something happened, he didn't try, like everyone else, to cover it up. No, he immediately reported it up the chain, wanting everything to be fair. But you understand where the law is and where justice lies. And because of him, our performance metrics were dropping. In other units, everything was covered up, but in ours, there was hazing, fires, and sensitive documents going missing. Essentially, it was no model military unit, but more like a circus. That was a time when the spirit of freedom seemed to waft in from somewhere over the Atlantic. They wanted to reach for the stars alongside those fools. But that's fine; our Petrov had no intention of going anywhere, yet he was still influenced by those harmful ideas. One day, a small 5-ton container was delivered to our unit, and we were ordered to keep it in the warehouse and protect it like the apple of our eye, but what was inside the container was none of our business. There were no proper documents for it, but a nondescript gray little man accompanied it, and he said that it could sit there without documents, that there was nothing dangerous or, heaven forbid, radioactive inside, but it was strictly forbidden to open it under any circumstances and we shouldn't talk about it either. And all the smart people understood that gray little men should be listened to; if they say to store it without documents, then it should be stored. If they say it's safe, then it must be safe. But Petrov didn\u2019t believe the gray little man. Somehow, he learned about that container and kept walking around it, sniffing it, carrying different devices, measuring the fields. Our commander was quite nervous about it, but he didn't want to put the fool Petrov in a bind by reporting him to the gray little men. But then, fool Petrov decided to report the command about the container himself. And lo and behold, the gray little men don\u2019t share their business with anyone, regardless of whether he\u2019s a brigade commander or a district commander; they couldn\u2019t care less. In short, a commission swooped into our unit, and our commander was struggling to explain what the container was. And the district commander turned out to be just like Petrov: \"What gray little men?!\" he yelled. \"I\u2019m a combat officer; I\u2019ve tangled up their kind on my officer's flag!\" And he ordered: \"Open the container!\" But our officers were all brave guys; if they had to go into hand-to-hand combat against enemy machine guns, that was fine, but digging into the pockets of gray little men\u2014sorry, that's off-limits. In the end, the district decided to take the container for themselves. They loaded it onto a trailer and drove off. And guess who was the escort from our unit?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Captain Petrov?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Captain Petrov, poor fool. Would you bother with that cursed container if you were in his place?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Accompany him? What's the big deal, it was closed after all.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It was closed, but it turns out that they took him away because of Petrov, and he was near him longer than anyone else. You know, I wouldn't have approached him even from a kilometer away; there was something strange about him that everyone who didn't have a completely dulled survival instinct would avoid like the plague. Even the patrol routes changed because of him, and you could really get into trouble for that. So, our captain took the container away, and everyone seemed to forget about it. I don\u2019t know how the district dealt with him, but they left us alone. The only thing is that the captain started acting weird. He walked around like a zombie, dark circles under his eyes, had a huge fight with his wife, and then somehow sat down with us to drink. He got drunk and started spinning some wild tales. We thought, that's it, Petrov has lost it. He says, I never went into that container, I didn\u2019t even touch it, but it haunts me every night. He says every night he approaches the warehouse and sees that the container is open and feels like someone is watching him from inside and waiting for him to come closer. And though he doesn\u2019t want to go, he feels pulled to it. He stands there looking at the open container while the warehouse is empty around him, knowing that there\u2019s no one for hundreds of kilometers, just him and whatever lives in the container. And he also realizes it\u2019s a dream, but knows for sure that if he steps inside, he won\u2019t come back out, neither in a dream nor awake. He said before, that container used to haunt him once a week for about five minutes, and he would still wake up in a cold sweat. Then it started coming every night, lasting longer and longer. Eventually, once he closed his eyes, he would see it right away and, importantly, couldn\u2019t wake himself up; his wife heard him groaning in his sleep and would wake him. He saw every doctor and healer, but they couldn\u2019t find anything. And then it got really bad; he made a contraption, connecting a stun gun to an alarm clock, setting it to go off in ten minutes so he could fall asleep, and the shock would keep him from going into the container. And that was every night. But you know, you can't keep that kind of schedule for long. Good doctors took our captain and injected him with a horse dose of tranquilizers so he could sleep normally. And you know what? He slept through the entire night, and in the morning it was like a load had been lifted. He walked around rosy-cheeked and satisfied, but everyone who heard his drunken confessions started to avoid him by a kilometer. Of course, they laughed at us, but we still kept our distance. Then people started disappearing in the area. First one, then two, and when it reached over twenty, everyone started thinking a maniac was on the loose. But I never doubted for a second who our maniac was. We hadn\u2019t seen Petrov\u2019s wife or kids for a long time. In the end, we started keeping an eye on him, and it turned out he went to his garage every day. Thankfully, we didn\u2019t go poking around; the little gray men beat us to it. They sealed that garage with a hermetic cover and quarantined everyone living within a kilometer of it, including us. In short, we were all scared out of our minds while stuck in that quarantine. Nobody hoped to come out alive; all the guards and medics walked around in the highest level of chemical protection, leaving food and water for us in a triple lock. It was a real nightmare.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So what did they find in the garage? Twenty corpses?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, they found what he was feeding those corpses. <\/p>\n
\u2014 And what was that?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I have no idea, they forgot to tell us.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Excuse me, Colonel, but I'm completely confused: what is the moral of this story?<\/p>\n
\u2014 The moral for you is this: don't stick your nose into someone else's business and remember that things can end much worse than you expect.<\/p>\n
\u2014 There's no need to stick your nose into someone else's business.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So what were you talking about with Leo Schulz?<\/p>\n
\u2014 About my chip, or rather, about its absence. This Leo is quite a strange guy, he kept trying to figure out what phobia I have regarding chips.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And you don\u2019t have a phobia?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, I just don\u2019t like neurochips. You can manage without them in Moscow.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes, you can manage in Moscow, even more so in the wastelands.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, in some places you can.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Alright, so how do you know Maxim?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Doesn\u2019t your file say we were classmates?<\/p>\n
\u2014 It does, but it didn\u2019t say anything about your tender friendship.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I have many friends from school. Max and I were friends, but then he went to Mars, and we kind of lost touch.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Where did you go with him?<\/p>\n
\u2014 To look at his workplace.<\/p>\n
\u2014 His workplace? What's there to see?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, nothing much. Max kind of overestimates the importance of his job. Like, look how cool I am, I work in Telecom, unlike you, Dan, who hasn\u2019t achieved anything.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Really. Well, alright, Lieutenant Kaysanov, let\u2019s just say I believe you. You\u2019re dismissed.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"I can\u2019t believe it,\" thought Denis, heading to the door, \"one moment he seemed ready to kill me, and now I\u2019m dismissed. What kind of crazy games are these?\" <\/p>\n
\u2014 Oh, right, don't leave Moscow. You'll still be useful, \u2014 Aroumov\u2019s calculatingly expressionless voice caught up with him at the door.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u2014 So, Danich, how\u2019s it going? \u2014 it seemed like Lenochka genuinely cared about him, or it was just the eternal female desire to be the first to bring the freshest gossip to her friends.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I\u2019m still alive, but apparently, the execution has just been postponed. <\/p>\n
\u2014 What did he say?<\/p>\n
\u2014 He said I would still be useful. Sounds like a sentence.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I don\u2019t know, it doesn\u2019t sound that terrifying. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Lenochka, did anyone come to Aroumov for me?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes, quite a few people\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 I mean from my colleagues, Lapin, for instance?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes, Lapin came by, came out all sweaty and trembling. <\/p>\n
\u2014 And Anton?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Which Anton?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Novikov, of course.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Doesn\u2019t seem like he did, why?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yeah, it's interesting. Listen, Len, do you know how old Arumov is?<\/p>\n
\u2014 What are you getting at? \u2013 Lenochka slightly pouted her lips.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I'm not trying to imply anything, I really need to know how old he is.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, forty... probably. <\/p>\n
\u2014 But from his stories, it seems he's older, well okay. Thanks, Len, you've really helped me today. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Sure, just don't disappear on me.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I\u2019ll try, see you.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo, what did he actually want to say with that story about the container and the little gray men? That he\u2019s much older than he seems, or that he\u2019s much more dangerous than he appears?\u201d Denis thought.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Lazily slouched in the old chair at his workspace, he decided to brew himself some tea, spit at the ceiling, and ponder his unenviable situation. His job responsibilities now worried him the least. After all, there was nothing really important in those duties: just some letters, memos, bills, and other nonsense. Nearby, his colleagues in the operational department were reluctantly and slowly mimicking similar activities, often distracted by smoke breaks and pointless chatter. \u201cYeah, this bleak, sleepy life in shabby offices is certainly not the stuff of dreams,\u201d Dan thought, \u201cbut at least it\u2019s warm and the flies don\u2019t bite. And soon I might lose even that.\u201d Checking his personal email, he found a letter from the Telecom HR department with a job offer. It seemed like a chance, but Denis just sighed heavily. \u201cThey\u2019re closing in on me from all sides. I need to make a decision; if I keep dragging myself back and forth from work to the bar, either Telecom or Arumov will definitely take me.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0After leaving a message for Lapin that he had to step out urgently, Denis got in his car and headed home. Actually, he didn\u2019t quite understand what he was planning to do. No, he had a thought about calling his dad, maybe rushing off to Finland, heating up the sauna, chatting with his dad about life, finding the phone number of some reliable guy from MIK, one of those who aren\u2019t former. Then he\u2019d return to Moscow and... what happens next, he couldn\u2019t even articulate on a kitchen-table level. Would he go to this guy and propose to jointly wage a guerrilla war against the Martians or against Arumov? That would actually not be funny; among those former friends who haven\u2019t completely hit rock bottom and died, everyone has long settled into warm spots in state corporations. So he shows up, all fearless like a \u201ccomandante,\u201d to a solid dude in a suit, bringing along a bottle of cognac, and at best, it\u2019ll just end with banal drinking and the same old kitchen chatter. At worst, they\u2019ll spin their fingers at their temples and order a couple of goons to throw him out. Dan parked in the yard, the old gas turbine engine whistling for a while longer as it slowed down, and then there was a deafening silence. There was no one in the yard: no children were screaming, and no dogs were barking, only the old trees creaked in the wind. Dan knew what would come next, he would go upstairs, meet Leha, and be offered a drink, he\u2019d resist a bit, then they\u2019d get drunk, flap about the neighborhood, blow off steam, and tomorrow with a pounding headache he\u2019d stumble into work, right into Arumov's den. In general, everything would end before the trip to Finland. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"What is my life then?\" Denis thought. \"Maybe there's no life anymore if everything is predetermined. Maybe I'm already dying in a drainage ditch, and this murky haze is racing before my eyes. And why bother with me if nothing can be done?\" <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0It was stuffy outside.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0After smoking a cigarette, Denis leisurely made his way down Krasnokazarnaya Street towards Lefortovsky Park. He understood he was delaying the inevitable for a few pitiful hours, but it was the only thing he could think of. He walked right down the middle of the street. The street itself looked as if it had been bombed, with hardly any vehicles passing through. Overall, the area was falling into decay: the next building stared blankly at the solitary passersby with the empty eye sockets of shattered windows.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\"Maybe I'll drop by Kolyana,\" Denny thought, \"if I can't solve the problem with Arumov and Telecom, maybe I should consider the option of cowardly escape.\"<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Kolyana's den, a dealer of various illegal junk, was located in a semi-basement of a large Stalinist building. It was masked by a vintage sign reading \"Computers, components.\" <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Nikolai Vostrikov \u2014 a tall, thin guy, hunched and always slightly twitchy \u2014 was rummaging under the counter and, upon hearing Denis\u2019s greeting, didn\u2019t even think about coming out.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Hey, Kolyana, I'm actually talking to you. I said hello\u2026<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The disheveled owner eventually emerged into the light, squinting suspiciously.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Hi, what do you want?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Today, Kolyana was wearing a blue, greasy jumpsuit, just like a mechanic's. This was his standard outfit. He absolutely hated not only suits and ties but even just decent clothes. The only attire he accepted was military camouflage and various jumpsuits. He had about ten of them hanging in his closet, each for different occasions: an Arctic explorer's suit, a pilot's, a tanker's, etc. All his acquaintances, both this side and that of the Urals, would laugh at his strange fetish.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, you just popped by. Haven't seen you in a while; maybe I want to grab a beer with an old business partner.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Denny, that's not funny. What business partners? You\u2019re just a distant acquaintance who occasionally bought dodgy gadgets from me; I see you for the second time in my life.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0- So that's how you treat old friends?<\/p>\n
\u2014 We're not friends, enough already. You last dropped by three months ago, and I'd be very grateful if that time had been the last. Please forget about this place; there are now different people in business, serious ones; you have nothing to catch here.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, you know I\u2019ve quit. I'm dealing with something completely different.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Did you tie up, or were you tied up?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Kolyan, stop being scared; no one cares about you, your shady soul.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So if no one cares, why did you come here?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I need to talk to someone.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Talk, or talk\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 Or.<\/p>\n
\u2014 With whom?<\/p>\n
\u2014 You mentioned knowing a reliable guy who has direct connections to the Eastern bloc.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Maybe I do, but it's not guaranteed he'll help you. What exactly did you want from him?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Let\u2019s not discuss it here, okay?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Fine, let's go, but only out of respect\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes, yes, out of respect for my dad, mom, grandma, and so on, and also because I know a thing or two about you.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0They went through an iron, unpainted door into the basement and further through a maze of multi-tiered shelves piled with ancient computer junk until they reached a completely unremarkable door. They passed through a dimly lit basement into a secluded courtyard, in the center of which stood a one-story shack. In that shack, in a dark, shielded room, lay a couple of laptops connected to the internet through their own secure network, allowing Kolyan to have a heart-to-heart talk with anyone while virtually ensuring he wouldn\u2019t be overheard. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes, I decided to help only out of respect for your Siberian friends, \u2014 said Kolyan, pulling out a laptop and router. \u2014 They asked about you a few times.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And what did you tell them?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I said you took a leave of absence. Listen, Dan, why are you hanging around here? You should have left for Argentina a long time ago. They'll catch you, if not one group, then another.<\/p>\n
\u2014 They won\u2019t catch me; my Siberian friends didn\u2019t sell me out, even though they\u2019re now working with others.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, they don\u2019t care, they\u2019re taiga thugs, but if they ask me directly, sorry Dan, I\u2019ll throw you under the bus. Maybe you\u2019re not aware of who I\u2019m working with now?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Generally, I'm aware. You're still working with the same INKIS.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Same, but not quite. There are now these guys there, underlings of some shady colonel. No one knows where they are or who they are. They just come, eliminate whoever they want, and then vanish: those goddamn death squads. So if they come and ask about you, sorry.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And what if they ask about your friend?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Let them; I don\u2019t know anything about him. <\/p>\n
\u2014 But you can get in touch with him.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And what's the use? He might be sitting somewhere in the ruins of Khabarovsk, and you won't be able to lure him out. <\/p>\n
\u2014 I actually wanted to meet him in person.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, that's something you'll have to negotiate for yourself, although I'm highly skeptical. So what did you actually want from him?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I don't want to go to Argentina; I want to head towards the Eastern Bloc.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Did someone hit you on the head recently? What Eastern Bloc? Those are worse than the new squad of colonels. They'll just sell you for organs, and that's it!<\/p>\n
\u2014 Just connect me, and I'll handle the rest.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Kolyan just shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Right now, if he answers.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Hey, Semyon, are you there? Can you talk?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I'm here, \u2014 a synthesized voice came from the laptop with no image, \u2014 what happened?<\/p>\n
\u2014 My old associate, through whom I used to do business with the Siberian guys, wants to talk to you. He was one of the key 'couriers' before the known events.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And what did he want?<\/p>\n
\u2014 You'd better ask him yourself; he\u2019s right next to me. His name is Denis.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, hello, Denis. Why don\u2019t you tell me a bit about yourself.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And hello to you too, Semyon. Maybe you should start talking about yourself first?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, my friend, we won't be able to have a dialogue this way. You called me, so it\u2019s your turn to speak first. Then I'll think about what to say.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Den was a bit hesitant, but really, what difference does it make? Too many ill-wishers already knew all about him.<\/p>\n
\u2014 In general, Kolyan, the situation has been sketched out. I\u2019ll just add that following the known events, my group of associates suffered the most. If you know Yan, he was my direct boss at INKIS and in business too. He was caught, and pretty thoroughly, while they somehow left me alone for a while. But now the storm clouds are gathering again, and I need to look for a backup airfield.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And why do you think they're gathering? Are they watching you?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I don't think so.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Thinking is certainly useful. Do you have problems with a specific person or organization?<\/p>\n
\u2014 With a person and his organization. If you know about the known events, I have a problem specifically with their initiator.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Denis, you can speak frankly\u2014this is a secure channel. Do you have problems with Arumov?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes, do you know anything about him?<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The voice ignored the question.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What kind of problems? <\/p>\n
\u2014 It just so happened that I accidentally got involved in his dealings with another organization, and today he openly told me that he has compromising material on me and can use it at any moment. I think he has kept me for some dirty deal that anyone else would refuse.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Believe me, he has people for dirty work. It doesn't matter whether it's compromising material or not; refusing Arumov is not an option.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Maybe, but I don\u2019t want to check.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So, are you planning to disappear?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes, I'm considering all options.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I advise you to consider him first. Only a very powerful organization can stand up against Arumov. Truth be told, I don\u2019t understand why you came to me; I don\u2019t specialize in such services. Kolya can suggest other people who can smuggle you to the USA or South America. I recommend those countries; according to my information, Arumov\u2019s influence there is nearly non-existent.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Those countries won't work. Besides, I have no money left for such an operation. You\u2019re the only one who has a direct contact with the Eastern Bloc.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And what do you want from the Eastern Bloc?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I want to join them.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The synthesized voice fell silent for a few seconds. Dan waited patiently.<\/p>\n
\u2014 That's a mistaken decision, my friend. First of all, Arumov has connections with the Eastern Bloc, and they are much more significant than mine. Secondly, they don\u2019t accept people from the street. Of course, I could recommend you, but I assure you, nothing good awaits you there.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Nothing good awaits me here either. I'm ready to take the risk.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Still, why? Does being a smuggler not seem dangerous enough for your health? Do you want to become a fervent follower of a death cult?<\/p>\n
\u2014 You can laugh at me all you want, but they are the only ones who stand against the Martians and their system.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Ha-ha, \u2014 said the synthesized voice, \u2014 I'm really laughing at you. They do not oppose the Martians, I assure you; they are an organic part of the system. Let's say, a cesspool of this system. Many Martian corporations stock up on weapons or drugs from them, but you know that yourself. And there are also specific services that no one else offers, such as trading in genetically modified slaves. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, why not? Some Martian corporations are ready to sell anything.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It doesn't matter. There's no real fight against the system there. They are ordinary bandits trying to cover their criminal nature with radical screams about the death of all the unclean with neurochips. The simplest outcome awaiting the first-circle servant of death is a mandatory drug addiction and complete suppression of personality through systematic torture and hypnotic programming. Believe me, Arumov isn't that bad compared to them.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Still, I don't see any other options.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You, my friend, are either very foolish or utterly desperate. Is the problem the lack of money for other options?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Partly, but actually I have a ready option: one firm is willing to take me under its wing, just to shut me up. It doesn't seem like a setup. Unfortunately, it's not suitable for me.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Why isn't it suitable?<\/p>\n
\u2014 If I tell you, you'll just laugh and probably not believe me. Can you just help me without asking unnecessary questions?<\/p>\n
\u2014 I must refuse a person whose motives I don't understand.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Fine, if I tell you and you don\u2019t believe me, then what?<\/p>\n
\u2014 If you tell the truth, I\u2019ll believe you. Any deception isn't that hard to uncover.<\/p>\n
\u2014 All other options require mandatory installation of a neurochip, and I can't go for that. I'd rather become a follower of the cult of death.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You mean, you don't have a chip?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Kolya, is that true?<\/p>\n
\u2014 It's true, he's really that out there, roaming around without a chip. He's just waiting for someone to notice him, and then all his escapades will come to light.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Hm, strange, so he can't register in any networks. How does he even live?<\/p>\n
\u2014 He can register. It's some ancient military tablet that very cleverly mimics the operation of a regular chip. There are certain people who periodically update its firmware.<\/p>\n
\u2014 What difference does it make? No network provider will assign a number to such a device, and attempts to register under fake numbers will draw attention in any network.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Ah, Semyon, what are you telling me? Everything is bought and sold, including fake numbers or the codes of law-abiding users, especially in Moscow.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, suppose so. Denis, could you tell me more about who you bought this device from?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Sure, let's meet and discuss everything, \u2014 Dan replied. \u2014 You help me, and I'll satisfy your curiosity. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Yeah, you know, if I were an agent of some evil corporation and had a file on someone named Semen, I would know that the only weakness of the esteemed Semen is his excessive curiosity. And I'd hook him with that. I'd come up with some enticing story about a guy who hates chips so much that he's willing to rot alive in the Eastern Bloc just to avoid getting one. And demonstrating a fake wonder tablet to anyone with access to some neurodata base wouldn't be hard at all. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Kolyana will vouch for me, he has known me for ten years.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Undercover agents can work for much longer than that.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, I don't know how to prove to you that I'm not an agent. Just try to believe me. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Still, why do you dislike chips so much? For the right amount of money, you can get a special chip that transmits false information about the user, and you can still browse anonymously. What a strange phobia?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Lately, everyone seems to care about my phobias, \u2014 Denis grumbled.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Who else cares? Arumov?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, just some nerd from Telecom. He practically drooled when he found out I was chipless.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Who is he?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Just a nerd. I thought I made my preferences clear. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Okay, let's meet, but keep in mind, no funny business, I shoot without warning if necessary. <\/p>\n
\u2014 It'll be fine. Just give me the address.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Semen set the meeting in a small park on Stara Basmannaya Street just half an hour later. From this, Dan concluded that curiosity really does make the esteemed Semen forget about caution, as both the time and place clearly indicated that he was lingering somewhere nearby. <\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis sat down on a bench in the center of the park next to the bust of Bauman. From the thickets of weeds, which had completely torn apart the once charming cobblestone pavement, emerged a huge striped cat. It looked around as if it owned the place, twitched its whiskers, and lazily trotted off on its own feline errands. Denis was so captivated by the unusual cat that he completely missed the old man approaching in a tattered leather jacket. And that was a mistake. The old man, completely unfazed, jabbed Denis with a stun gun in the left shoulder. Denis instinctively realized what it was and jumped aside.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Young man, I sincerely apologize for such a mean trick, but this is the surest way to check that a person really doesn\u2019t have a chip.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And no less certain way to kill off some poor soul, \u2014 Denis barked, trying to steady the tremors in his hand.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Once again, a thousand apologies, I concluded that since a person is ready to head to the Eastern block, he surely doesn\u2019t suffer from angina. And if he does, then he\u2019s probably completely out of his mind.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Listen, old man, where did you dig up such a device? They\u2019ve been banned for a long time.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yeah, those damned Martians with their damned chips. They stuff them into different places and create laws with the same means, while old Semyon has nothing to defend himself from the thugs. Bad words? They don\u2019t care where an old respected man has to stumble through alleys to get home...<\/p>\n
\u2014 Listen, old man, stop rambling nonsense, let\u2019s get down to business.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Young man, show a little respect. If you\u2019re still expecting a trick from me, then please, take it away...<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis carefully took the worn, hefty device with its menacing protruding prongs. <\/p>\n
\u2014 But I warn you, old Semyon has more than just the stun gun and bad words in reserve. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Alright, inspector, let\u2019s move on. Cool toy.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis handed the stun gun back.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, that\u2019s good, I hope this regrettable incident is forgotten. Allow me to introduce myself: Semyon Koshka. You can just call me Semyon Sanych. <\/p>\n
\u2014 So then, Semyon Sanych, what about the Eastern block?<\/p>\n
\u2014 It\u2019s not nice to grab the bull by the horns right away. Let\u2019s sit down and talk. You\u2019ll tell me something, I\u2019ll tell you something. I\u2019m an old man, no one needs my grumbling for free anymore. So, please respect the elder.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Sure, no problem. You know, Semyon Sanych, I have no rush. Want to chat about life? Go ahead.<\/p>\n
\u2014 And indeed, why are you in a hurry, heading to Arumov, is it? It\u2019s better to sit and chat with the old man. I've got some tea to keep the conversation going.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Semyon pulled a small flask from his pocket and took a sip first. Den didn't hesitate either, and also gulped down some tea that tasted like excellent cognac, instantly warming him from within.<\/p>\n
\u2014 So, Denis, what kind of bird are you? I got the gist. I did check a few things through my channels. I must say, your virtual world biography is quite lacking. I\u2019d even say it\u2019s non-existent. This, by the way, was another indirect confirmation of what you said about the chip. <\/p>\n
\u2014 So, about the chips, why is everyone suddenly interested in what\u2019s in my head? What do you and that telecom geek know that I don\u2019t?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Ah, youth. You don\u2019t know how to listen. Believe me, sometimes it\u2019s enough to just shut up to hear the most intimate human secrets. I meant to melt the ice of distrust between us and share a bit about myself. Perhaps you guessed that I was somehow connected to MIK.<\/p>\n
\u2014 It\u2019s not hard to guess; everyone is connected to it.<\/p>\n
\u2014 True, but I wasn\u2019t a dashing officer with a cool head and other useful traits; rather, I was an inconspicuous lab rat. However, I worked on a very interesting project. And don\u2019t ask what the project was; when the time comes, I\u2019ll tell you. So, I turned out to be a bit more resourceful than my colleagues and took care to hide the necessary materials in advance. By the time everything collapsed, I was already prepared: I managed to erase all information about myself and quickly set up a small information-gathering business. Sometimes I sell this information, but mostly I just accumulate it. I\u2019ve already amassed a huge database of thousands of interesting people. Mostly here in Russia, but there are also folks abroad, and even on Mars. <\/p>\n
\u2014 And why do you keep it? Why not sell everything?<\/p>\n
\u2014 How can I put it, buddy? I\u2019m not a dealer and only sell the most disposable goods just to get by. But all the true treasures, I keep carefully. <\/p>\n
\u2014 For future generations?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Maybe I don't know for whom. Imagine monks in the Middle Ages, diligently copying old books year after year while epidemics and wars raged outside their monastery walls. Why did they do it? Who among their contemporaries could appreciate their painstaking work? Only their descendants, hundreds of years after their death, could do so. They preserved for us some memory of the past centuries.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Are you going to chronicle it?<\/p>\n
\u2014 No, Denis. Well, I see you're not interested. Alright, I\u2019ll tell you a legend about people without chips. But first, answer me: who is this botanist from Telecom that was asking about you?<\/p>\n
\u2014 His name is Leo Schulz, he is the chief researcher at some Institute of RSAD. A division of Telecom near Zelenograd. They mainly deal with complex and unconventional medical operations, genetic engineering, implants, and develop software for these. In general, a shady outfit, also crafting a project for Arumov on modifying employees of the INKIS security service into super-soldiers. The first samples have already been created, and now they plan to start serial modifications. Who and what will happen to them later, I don't know. But this Schulz is in cahoots with Arumov. Yesterday, we went there to sign some final documents for the project, and supposedly didn't sign anything. I don\u2019t know why, but it seems Schulz decided to abruptly change the topic, and now Arumov thinks I\u2019m somehow involved. He yelled at me this morning so loudly that the windows shook. And I, honestly, really have no idea; this Schulz interrogated me for an hour about why I don\u2019t like chips and was rambling about progress and spaceships sailing the cosmos. What does Arumov and his favorite little soldiers have to do with it? Honestly, I have no clue.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I hear most curious things from you, my friend Denis. But you, of course, haven\u2019t seen the super-soldiers yourself?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Who knows, maybe I have, \u2014 Dan decided to confess after a brief pause. Despite the shocker and his caustic manners, Denis sensed with some sixth sense that he could trust Semyon, or maybe it was the cognac playing its part.<\/p>\n
\u2014 But right now you\u2019re definitely lying, you couldn\u2019t have seen them.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Why is that?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, firstly, a very high level of clearance is required; they don't let just anyone in. And secondly, there\u2019s a secret instruction for them: never allow people without chips to come close.<\/p>\n
Wow, Semyon Sanych, you really have some good sources of information. They have a firmware like that, and I had to check it out myself.<\/p>\n
And how did you manage to survive? Anyway, that's a topic for another conversation. Let's talk about the chip first, but one more question: wasn't it Leo Schultz who promised you refuge?<\/p>\n
Yes, that's correct.<\/p>\n
Then it's good that you didn't just rush into his arms, and now you'll understand why. You probably know that after the Second Space War, MIK was actively developing new ways to combat Martians. One of the most important was the program for embedding agents and saboteurs into Martian structures. It was large-scale and effective to the extent possible. When the Martians found out about it after their downfall, they really were at a loss. If we had held on a little longer and recruited enough agents, we would have launched a real war against those misfits. Can you imagine living in hermetically sealed caves, with potentially thousands of enemy agents running around in oxygen stations and nuclear reactors? They would have had much bigger problems than their empire. They'd be changing diapers three times a day from every little bang. Of course, MIK eventually fell apart, and the Martians gradually caught all those agents. By the way, eat some candies.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Semyon pulled out some half-dried candies with sticky threads and crumbs from somewhere in his pocket. <\/p>\n
So, in their internal instructions, the Martians classified all agents into four classes. They also detailed how to identify them and what to do with them. Class four agents are ordinary recruited humans who received orders to lie low until the start of the sabotage war or are simply gathering information. It\u2019s clear that they are the least valuable and unreliable. After the collapse of the Empire, they were not particularly sought after. A normal person wouldn\u2019t take the initiative to blow up an oxygen station in the absence of orders. Class three agents have undergone extensive special processing back on Earth and were sent to Mars disguised as migrants. In short, they are suicide bombers, ready to do anything. They believed that after death they would be reborn for the Emperor and resurrected in a better world where the Empire has won. It\u2019s like the Emperor has the superpower to see the future and, moreover, he can briefly show this future to a young neophyte. He can let him wander through the sunlit rooms of vast institutions, talk with beautiful, intelligent people with pure souls who have forgotten what unemployment and crime are. And admire the lights of evening Moscow after the victory of communism. It is clear that by the end, the MIK had become quite adept at showing various tricks with rebirths, heavenly houris, and other nonsense, but it\u2019s still not perfect. Even a thoroughly brainwashed mind, after several years of independent life, starts to ask questions and doubt. Or it might just blurt out something unnecessary at the wrong time. In general, the next upgrade is class two. They have a hypno-program embedded in their brain, or a mini-chip. The mini-chips, of course, were produced in a rush due to time constraints and are relatively easy to detect. But the hypno-program is a completely different matter. A person with it may not even suspect they are an agent. It activates with just a verbal code or a message on social media. After which a seemingly typical family man will go and kill the necessary Martian or blow up a hatch. However, it is said that after hypno-programming, only one in ten potential migrants survived, but, understandably, the MIK was not deterred by this. Yet, they are very difficult to recognize; they say that not all of them have been caught, and the Martians regularly experience bouts of paranoia because of this. Who knows what kind of madman might gain access to the activation codes of these agents. Don\u2019t look at me like that; I don\u2019t have those codes. And the top tier is class one, enhanced with genetic modifications or artificial microorganisms. They can be biological bombs, producing rare poisons for assassination, and who knows what else. Identifying them requires comprehensive examinations and DNA tests from all parts of the body. The Martians are still working on this.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Very insightful, \u2014 Denis chuckled. \u2014 So, either you or I could very well be MIK agents and not even realize it.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Wait, don\u2019t rush, better sip some more tea and have a candy. It\u2019s unlikely that we are first or second-class agents. Why would they need those in Moscow? They are the most valuable and expensive; they were always sent to Mars. But there\u2019s also a legend about certain zero-class agents. This is likely just a legend. It\u2019s quite possible that someone drunkenly came up with this tale, suggesting that if there are four classes, there must be a zero class too; it caught the fancy of drinking buddies and started circulating in certain circles. It even reached Martians and ended up in some of their instructions as footnotes and caveats. There are many speculations about the mission of these agents and their capabilities, but nothing trustworthy. The only thing that\u2019s concerning is that in all variations of this tale, there\u2019s a prerequisite: zero-class agents have no chips, molecular or electronic. Honestly, it\u2019s completely unclear why a chipless agent is needed, as they obviously wouldn\u2019t be able to infiltrate any European structure, let alone Martians. And nothing was known about these agents even to the MIK curators with the highest clearance. Well, Semyon Koshka knows this for sure.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Just imagine a person who, for some reason, dislikes chips so much that they would rather die than have one implanted. I've met chipless people, all sorts of down-and-outs who simply have no money, or psychos from the Eastern bloc. But you don't fall into any of those categories. I always thought the legend of zero-class agents was a sort of reflection, an expectation of a chosen one who would come and save everyone. In reality, the overwhelming majority of thinking people in Russia, and not only there, quietly hate Martians. Yet there\u2019s not even a phantom hope to oppose them, which is why reasonable people don\u2019t act up. And honestly, there\u2019s no one to fight for. That\u2019s why the stories of the last Mohican who will come and lead everyone into battle are so persistent. I even thought that the Martians themselves fabricated this tale to vent their frustration. And then suddenly\u2014here they are, phantom hopes have taken form. Miracles\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 Not much of a miracle, \u2014 Denis sighed. \u2014 Besides the burning desire to punch those cyber bastards, I actually don't have anything else. Maybe I need to be activated like class-two agents.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Maybe you do. But no one knows how. They also say that a zero-class agent knows the access codes and data on all MIC agents. Just drink your tea.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Why are you bothering me with your tea? \u2014 Dan suspiciously sniffed the neck of the flask. \u2014 Your tea is a bit questionable.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Don't worry, it just provides an interesting reaction with nearly all types of molecular chips.<\/p>\n
\u2014 There are no chips. Stop with the checks already, or I might also have an attack of distrust.<\/p>\n
\u2014 I understand that there are none. Otherwise, you would have been throwing up from all your holes by now. Forgive the old fool, I don't believe that you are really the chosen one, showing up at the sunset of my worthless life.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Amazing, two hours ago I almost reconciled myself to the end of my floundering. And now I suddenly instill baseless hopes in someone. It's truly miraculous!<\/p>\n
\u2014 You know what else makes me believe in zero-class agents? <\/p>\n
\u2014 Telecom super soldiers? \u2014 Dan suggested.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You guessed it right, \u2014 Semen nodded approvingly. \u2014 What I'm thinking is: it\u2019s unlikely you can simply copy a ghost's genome and then transplant it into a human. They must have some sort of protection \u2014 genome coding, genetic memory, anything really. But among the ghosts, or those who control them, there could be traitors who agreed to serve the Martians. That\u2019s why the traitor ghosts kill all humans without chips. They are surely better acquainted with imperial secrets than anyone. From what I learned about them, it can be concluded that this isn't a special firmware but rather an unfixable bug. The Martians themselves find this hunt pointless; they are practical people and only believe in class zero agents as far as they can see. <\/p>\n
\u2014 So, this bug isn\u2019t present in all super-soldiers.<\/p>\n
\u2014 In what sense? Should it be present in all of them?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Why do you think I'm still breathing after meeting them? One turned out to not be such a tough guy and took out the other who was about to rip my head off. Overall, not a bad guy; I probably owe him my life now. It\u2019s like he has free will.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Why does he need free will? \u2014 Semen was surprised.<\/p>\n
\u2014 To suffer. If you have free will, whether you want to or not, you will have to suffer.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Denis shivered and glanced around. He was so engrossed in the conversations that he didn't notice the darkness settling in. The cool air rushed into his chest, bringing with it the scents of withered grass and damp earth. His head was already buzzing, and the autumn evening took on new hues. Even the usually annoying silence of the half-abandoned streets of Moscow began to feel mysterious and soothing. It was as if a soft blanket had concealed them from enemy eyes and ears. In the garden, a single lantern flickered, and around it, for the millionth first time, myriads of little bugs began to gather, thoughtlessly repeating the established order of things. Just think, someone was already preparing to rewrite their mind onto a quantum matrix, but can this clever one distinctly answer the simple question: why do the bugs stubbornly fly towards the light? Their struggle is utterly hopeless, yet they persist as if one day one of the countless billions will accomplish the great mission and bring happiness to all the other bugs on the planet.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Do you think Schultz has also decided I\u2019m a class zero agent? Like an exclusive item that can be presented on a platter to his favorite Martians to earn favor? \u2014 Denis broke the silence.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Nothing personal, just business. It's good if this is solely his initiative, but if the central office gets interested, you definitely won't wriggle off the hook. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Yeah, I know, I have nothing to lose. What about you, esteemed Semyon Sanych, do you have something to lose?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Me? With my arthritis and sclerosis? Just the chance to spend my old age knocking on clinic doors. But what do you suggest we do? If you were really a class zero agent, and I knew how to activate you\u2026 but as it stands\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 Don\u2019t despair. We\u2019ll find a way to activate me: we\u2019ll shake up Schultz or Arumov, we\u2019ll dig something up.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You\u2019re a simple guy; let\u2019s shake Schultz. Maybe we should shake some boss from Neurotech while we\u2019re at it? Anyway, yes, what\u2019s with this old man\u2019s grumbling? Since you, so young and handsome, are in a hurry to die, then I must surely take the risk.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well then, it's settled; to hell with the Eastern Bloc, we're finding a way to activate the class zero agent. Cheers to us! \u2014 Denis enthusiastically raised his flask. <\/p>\n
\u2014 You really surprise me. You believe so easily that some old stranger will charge into battle with you?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Why not? You said yourself there are plenty of people who hate Martians. And even if it's a joke or you're some paid Martian provocateur, who cares?<\/p>\n
\u2014 There are probably millions and billions of people who hate Martians, but not all of them are ready to fight seriously. You understand that we have a 99.9% chance of losing and dying. Martians are endlessly at odds with each other, but against an external enemy, especially one as pathetic as us, their system is completely unified. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Fear is a poor advisor. Maybe Martians won not because they're so tough, but because the whole world has burrowed into its virtual nooks and is afraid to speak up. <\/p>\n
\u2014 Unfortunately, the real world has shrunk too much, and no one might notice our cries in it. <\/p>\n
\u2014 But that doesn't matter, whether they notice or not. This isn't the time to calculate probabilities; you just have to believe and start doing something. If my fight matters even a little to this world, I hope the laws of probability will be on my side. And if not, then it turns out my entire life isn't worth more than dust, and there's no reason to clutch at it.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You're right, \u2014 Semen reluctantly agreed.<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Just like that, effortlessly, Denis found himself a comrade for a hopeless war against virtual reality. Who knows, maybe it was pure coincidence, or perhaps there really were too many people in the world with reasons to dislike Martians, and it was enough to point at the first person you met. Denis, of course, didn't really believe in the tale of a class zero agent. He immediately believed in his fight, and from the mere anticipation of a real clash, his heart began to thud heavily in his temples, and his mouth filled with the taste of blood. Drums beat in his ears, and bitter scents of endless fields and burning bonfires hit his nose. He desperately wanted to live long enough to sink and twist a knife in the flabby body of virtual reality. No club in western Moscow made him long for the next day as much as this.habr.com<\/a><\/p>","protected":false,"gt_translate_keys":[{"key":"rendered","format":"html"}]},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u00a0\u041f\u0435\u0440\u0432\u0430\u044f \u0447\u0430\u0441\u0442\u044c \u0444\u0430\u043d\u0442\u0430\u0441\u0442\u0438\u0447\u0435\u0441\u043a\u043e\u0433\u043e \u043f\u0440\u043e\u0438\u0437\u0432\u0435\u0434\u0435\u043d\u0438\u044f \u043e \u0432\u0435\u0441\u044c\u043c\u0430 \u0432\u0435\u0440\u043e\u044f\u0442\u043d\u043e\u043c \u0431\u0443\u0434\u0443\u0449\u0435\u043c, \u0432 \u043a\u043e\u0442\u043e\u0440\u043e\u043c IT-\u043a\u043e\u0440\u043f\u043e\u0440\u0430\u0446\u0438\u0438 \u0441\u0432\u0435\u0440\u0433\u043d\u0443\u0442 \u0432\u043b\u0430\u0441\u0442\u044c \u0443\u0441\u0442\u0430\u0440\u0435\u0432\u0448\u0438\u0445 \u0433\u043e\u0441\u0443\u0434\u0430\u0440\u0441\u0442\u0432 \u0438 \u043d\u0430\u0447\u043d\u0443\u0442 \u0443\u0433\u043d\u0435\u0442\u0430\u0442\u044c \u0447\u0435\u043b\u043e\u0432\u0435\u0447\u0435\u0441\u0442\u0432\u043e \u0441\u0430\u043c\u043e\u0441\u0442\u043e\u044f\u0442\u0435\u043b\u044c\u043d\u043e. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u0412\u0441\u0442\u0443\u043f\u043b\u0435\u043d\u0438\u0435 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u041a \u043a\u043e\u043d\u0446\u0443 21-\u043e\u0433\u043e, \u043d\u0430\u0447\u0430\u043b\u0443 22-\u043e\u0433\u043e \u0432\u0435\u043a\u0430 \u0437\u0430\u0432\u0435\u0440\u0448\u0438\u043b\u0441\u044f \u0440\u0430\u0441\u043f\u0430\u0434 \u0432\u0441\u0435\u0445 \u0433\u043e\u0441\u0443\u0434\u0430\u0440\u0441\u0442\u0432 \u043d\u0430 \u0417\u0435\u043c\u043b\u0435. \u0418\u0445 \u043c\u0435\u0441\u0442\u043e \u0437\u0430\u043d\u044f\u043b\u0438 \u043c\u043e\u0433\u0443\u0449\u0435\u0441\u0442\u0432\u0435\u043d\u043d\u044b\u0435 \u0442\u0440\u0430\u043d\u0441\u043d\u0430\u0446\u0438\u043e\u043d\u0430\u043b\u044c\u043d\u044b\u0435 IT-\u043a\u043e\u0440\u043f\u043e\u0440\u0430\u0446\u0438\u0438. \u041c\u0435\u043d\u044c\u0448\u0438\u043d\u0441\u0442\u0432\u043e, \u043f\u0440\u0438\u043d\u0430\u0434\u043b\u0435\u0436\u0430\u0449\u0435\u0435 \u043a \u0440\u0443\u043a\u043e\u0432\u043e\u0434\u0441\u0442\u0432\u0443 \u044d\u0442\u0438\u0445 \u043a\u043e\u043c\u043f\u0430\u043d\u0438\u0439, \u0444\u043e\u0440\u0441\u0438\u0440\u043e\u0432\u0430\u043d\u043e \u0438 \u043d\u0430\u0432\u0441\u0435\u0433\u0434\u0430 \u043e\u0431\u043e\u0433\u043d\u0430\u043b\u043e \u0432 \u0440\u0430\u0437\u0432\u0438\u0442\u0438\u0438 \u043e\u0441\u0442\u0430\u043b\u044c\u043d\u043e\u0435 \u0447\u0435\u043b\u043e\u0432\u0435\u0447\u0435\u0441\u0442\u0432\u043e, \u0431\u043b\u0430\u0433\u043e\u0434\u0430\u0440\u044f […]<\/p>\n","protected":false,"gt_translate_keys":[{"key":"rendered","format":"html"}]},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[702],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-32583","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t