I'm tired of this charade! I understand the situation is dire, but you shouldn't lose your heads over it! How can we, the very brain of the USSR, if I may say so, guide all of humanity if we ourselves falter in the face of difficulties?
My throat ached unpleasantly from the too-loud exclamation, while my hand pulsed with heat. This was further proof that anger is not the best assistant, and one must approach everything with a cool head, though it can also be used to one's advantage. I hadn't seen such surprised faces from my colleagues in a long time. I could have even amused myself, if not for the circumstances.
"Colleagues, comrades... pull yourselves together! Your behavior is unacceptable for Soviet scientists! How are we going to be the guardians of a new world? Our competence..."
"It's not for you to talk about competence, Comrade Sechenov," Artemy Nikolaevich hissed. "Thanks to your indulgence of your deputy..."
"Who will answer for everything. If necessary, he will be sent to the array," the colleague interrupted coldly.
The phrase slipped from my lips on its own, without the slightest effort. I inwardly flinched, realizing with frightening ease how easily I had just allowed for the possibility, albeit hypothetical for now, of executing a man with whom I had worked side-by-side for years. In an instant, all personal feelings and myself receded, giving way to a cold, calculating being. An impartial manager and an iron pragmatist, who would do anything to keep the system running, ascended to the tribunal of my soul.
On the one hand, it was the right thing to do. Having embarked on this path, I cannot simply be a person living in society. There is no room for sentimentality in the workplace. Emotions are a luxury we cannot afford. I had turned a blind eye to his "minor pranks" because he was convenient. Comrade Shtokhauzen was effective. At the same time, I knew he was a cracked gear in a well-oiled mechanism since his dossier landed on my desk. No matter how much he wanted otherwise, by taking the name of his deceased friend, he couldn't simply escape the vigilant eye of the committee. But the mechanism was working! So why interfere with a well-established process? Everyone has their sins, after all. Everyone deserves a second chance!
There was another truth. He was likable, which I myself had used. Perhaps that's why I so stubbornly turned away from the obvious? Was I afraid that by digging into his sins, I would completely lose something important within myself? The recent events showed me I was wrong. The line between humanity and cold calculation had been drawn incorrectly.
Therefore, what was said was true. Cruel? Yes. Inhuman? Definitely. But it was right. The system must work. Even if it means tearing pieces from one's own soul...
Ironic. Every step I take towards a bright future leaves a bloody trail in the present. I am forced to do terrible things for the sake of good. Isn't that the most terrible paradox? Where is the limit beyond which efficiency turns into cruelty, and pragmatism into cynicism? Have I already crossed the line?
To build a humanistic and social society, to embody the ideas of communism in "metal," I must move away from guiding principles of humanity. Efficiency and reliability are paramount! And how can I remain human myself, without turning into the monster I decided to fight?
No more mistakes. Think a hundred steps ahead, don't give in to emotional impulses, approach problems with a cool head, and constantly remind myself that human lives are hidden behind statistics. There will be more difficult decisions, but I will do everything possible not to bargain with my conscience again. Perhaps... Well, this mistake will be a lesson to me.
The coldness of my thoughts reflected in my eyes, and Kurchatov, who was about to protest again, simply closed his mouth, as if doused with a bucket of well water.
"Have I answered your complaint, Academician Kurchatov?"
After receiving a short nod, I continued.
"Good. Comrades, I fully understand what is at stake, but, apparently, you do not."
Unintentionally, I copied Comrade Stalin's manner of speaking, along with his intonations, now perfectly understanding the trap he found himself in. No matter how I felt about my colleagues and comrades, they too had forgotten pragmatism, clinging to the private, forgetting the essential. The egoism inherent in all scientists and doctors to some extent had prevailed over the common cause.
That's why there was such a reaction to the incident. They are now having hysterics when coolness and discipline are required. After all, someone dared to pull such smart and great people out of the sandbox. Competent scientists and leaders have descended to the level of preschool children...
Nodding to myself after a brief pause, during which I gathered my thoughts, I began to state the obvious:
"You've started to forget yourselves, comrades."
Gliding my gaze over the professors and academicians, I look down at them.
"We are not gathered here to work on your personal projects. I regret to note that the very foundations of our Enterprise have been trampled by you. It was the approach at the intersection of all sciences that elevated Soviet thought above the whole world, and now, when we are on the verge of a grandiose success capable of ending all wars and most social problems, raising the economy of the entire world to a new level, uniting humanity into a monolith..."
I pause, giving everyone time to absorb what was said. Then I ask:
"Are you afraid of difficulties?! Didn't you insist on creating a council of founders to transfer full power over the planet into the hands of its smartest and most worthy representatives, gathered today within these walls? Comrades, you don't see beyond your laboratories and testing grounds. How will we solve global problems if we can't bring order to our own domain? Fortunately, not everyone has shown such blatant incompetence, which I am incredibly glad about. From now on, as your leader, I will not tolerate such behavior..."
"What, will you introduce systematic executions, like under Comrade Beria?!" Comrade Filimonenko exclaimed, unable to contain himself.
"Sanctions will strictly correspond to the severity of the offense. No leniency – neither for friendship nor for past merits. As for Comrade Shtokhauzen... As I already said, he will be placed in the array or will answer according to the law. So..."
I turn to my colleagues, who have finally grasped the seriousness of the moment. Having made sure there was nothing more to add, I begin to restore order:
"I need reports on the work of all complexes and productions. Order must be restored before the activation of 'The Collective' and even more so before the active phase of the 'Atomic Heart' project. The Enterprise must be ready to supply consumer goods to regions that cannot quickly adapt to the new economic model, as well as military supplies for the united army of humanity, to suppress the resistance of the old world in the shortest possible time. I am entrusting the planning to Comrades Vavilov and Michurin. Comrade Lebedev..."
I address the silent and collected scientist:
"Recalculate the forecasts with the updated data once more. We don't need surprises. Comrade Pavlov, you are tasked with preparing the deployment of a mobile hospital. Even if the power transfer and the launch of the new self-governance system go smoothly, there may be casualties and injured."
The hall filled with business-like bustle.
"I ask Comrade Korolev to organize the calculations for transport logistics and to accelerate the launch of the 'OKO' satellites into orbit. The rest – immediately restore order at the facility... Comrade Filimonenko, eliminate the consequences of the incident with the replica of the Motherland statue. Due to your oversight of the results of previous experiments, the monument lies in ruins."
Harsh? Yes. But a leader has no right to be soft. It was despicable. I knew how hard the colleague was taking this situation, but as a leader, I had to point out his oversight. Later, as a comrade, I will apologize to him – but only after the tasks are completed. Something else is more important now:
"Prepare 'Mendeleev' for printing. To the production complex – resume the output of raw materials in full volume..."
***
The storm subsided, leaving behind an unnatural silence. The air was heavy, saturated with the smell of ozone.
I crouched down, running my fingers over the dark stains on the metal platform. Even after the downpour, they hadn't disappeared. The bad weather couldn't wash away the bloodstains, and Katya could trace the path along which the dead body first crawled, and then got to its feet... as if it was in a hurry somewhere.
"Something tells me this shouldn't be in the blood of a living person," I muttered, rubbing a strange clot found in a puddle of congealed blood between my fingers.
Katya stood a little distance away, her pale face illuminated by the flickering light of the lantern. She looked down at the slope of the hill.
Lakmus, limping, approached the edge of the platform and whistled:
"From the fifth floor... That's impossible!"
But the bloody trail on the wet grass spoke more eloquently than any words. The crushed bushes with scraps of clothing left no doubt – the corpse had gotten up and left on its own.
"CHAR-les, were there any experiments conducted at the Enterprise on something like this?" I asked our resident encyclopedia.
"If there were, this information is not in my database. Although... some of my colleagues might have created something like this. But targeted research in this direction was not conducted," the AI replied.
"And I didn't participate in anything like that! This is a nightmare..." Eleonora said dejectedly. She had already told us how terrible it was to see what Petrov had turned into, and even more terrifying to realize that he had touched her machine mind.
"So, it's nanites," I wiped my fingers on the metal and stated the obvious. "Usually, we destroyed the bodies immediately, replacing them with dummies on the way to the morgue to avoid... But I've never seen such a concentration of this filth in one person."
"And where did it go?" Katya frowned, emphasizing that the corpse had clearly ceased to be human. "This is no longer a person, but a walking nightmare..."
"It definitely didn't go for beer," I joked foolishly, trying to relieve the tension.
"Stupid joke..." Lakmus chuckled nervously. "You can't drink beer with a hole in your head."
"Alright. To hell with it. We have other tasks. I'll give the army security the go-ahead. They have dogs and drones. They'll find this walking corpse faster than us," I concluded. "I'll just warn them to get the flamethrowers from the warehouses... I don't care that they are prohibited by conventions. The lives of the soldiers are more important than formalities. I have a feeling it's better not to approach this creature. We've had enough close combat with 'The Escapes'..."
"Don't remind me..." my wife turned even paler, her eyes became glassy, as if she were seeing that day again. "There are things that will haunt nightmares forever..."
I nodded silently. I don't know what they were researching in "Vavilov," and I don't want to know. Although, if desired, access to the archives can be obtained. But four living corpses with flower pots for heads is not a sight one easily forgets.
"Let's move out."
Sending the data about the target and the object's presumed route into the ether, I waited for confirmation. On the tablet screen, the aerial reconnaissance markers slowly shifted to the designated sector. Now it was their concern.
We turned and headed towards the Azure. We still had to find those damned rings.
Beta connectors are the last resort for extreme cases. They allowed us to remain in the system, invisible to it. And, more importantly, they gave us a chance to reboot the main array if everything went to hell.
They were supposed to be issued to the Wizard's bodyguard robots before the neural network activation, but everything went downhill. How they ended up with these two is a mystery that needed to be solved urgently. What they could have done with these rings is terrifying to even imagine. In the wrong hands, they are more dangerous than a nuclear briefcase.
"CHAR-les, can you calculate the trajectory of the container with the rings falling?" I asked the former human, now a polymer mass.
"I can say one thing..."
The AI's voice slowed down. In its intonation, there was something that resembled echoes of real human emotions, not the feigned bullshit it had been feeding us all this time.
"He definitely threw the container to the lake in his new form."
The trajectory of flight and calculated impact points appeared on the tactical tablet screen.
"It should have fallen somewhere in the shallows..."
The map zoomed in, highlighting a section of the shore.
"Approximately in the area of that beach where ornithologists observe birds..."
"Are these the ones who complained about Zinaida Petrovna and her flights?" I recalled. "It happened. There were so many complaints that my mother-in-law was making so much noise with her house. Although if the scientists hadn't made a fuss, she would have stopped flying. But they immediately ran to complain, without even trying to talk. My mother-in-law doesn't tolerate that and makes it clear. She took seeds from 'Vavilov' precisely out of a sense of protest. What can you do – a professional fighter against the regime and a revolutionary of the old school. The last relic of revolutionary times. There are fewer and fewer of them left..."
Reaching the indicated beach on foot was not difficult. Just a couple of kilometers, which for us is ten minutes of running, considering the injured person and the terrain.
After the storm, the lake shore was littered with debris and wreckage, which did not make the search easier. The container was not large.
Exchanging glances, we dispersed across the beach, turning up the sensitivity of the scanners to maximum and tuning them to search for polymer structures. There was plenty of debris from the underwater factory spread beneath the surface of the Azure. It was an entire underwater city, and no matter how perfect the purification systems were, something inevitably seeped through.
The specially bred fauna fed on this "something" or delivered it for sorting. Training combined with genetic engineering works wonders.
In the end, we even dived into the shallows, but the traces of the container were lost at depth. There was only one way left – to "Neptune."
"Calling transport," I said tiredly, flopping onto the wet sand.
Katya, lying next to me, handed me a slightly soggy energy bar from the ration. Damn pies, with all this running around, I hadn't remembered when I last ate...
***
The puppet broke through the narrowing search ring, destroying a squad of guards in a sudden ambush.
Breaking out of the treeline, it rushed towards a goal known only to it. Guided by the memory of the deceased, the creature knew exactly what to do.
Another short skirmish, and two soldiers guarding the village shop, turned into a temporary morgue, lay in the dust with their throats torn out.
Led by the spectral will of its creators, the creature began its dark work. It moved from body to body, choosing the least damaged ones, and, tearing off pieces of its withered flesh, placed the infected organic matter into the bodies. The nanites immediately got to work.
The nanomachines, which, despite replication, were not numerous, could not restore any corpse. Choices had to be made. Moreover, this method was extremely inefficient. But the Reapers' shadows had no choice of methods yet. They had one last task: to inflict maximum damage on people before their complete destruction, and they intended to fulfill it.
Microscopic machines, though few in number despite replication, altered only the brain, transforming it into a receiving and control module, and hastily patched up critical damage. The time for complete transformation would come later.
Now, a small group of reanimated dead continued their march towards "Mendeleev"...