It feels so good! Like being back on the beach in Sochi with a frosty mug of cold light beer. Only there, lying on a sun lounger, warming my belly in the sun, you feel how exhausted you were before the vacation!
Only something is bothering me... Someone is grumbling in my ear, in a nasty voice. Deliberately childish?
With difficulty, I open my eyes, tearing my eyelids apart as if they were glued on, and immediately close them, shaking my head desperately, trying to unsee what has already been imprinted on my memory forever.
I found myself in a parody of a laboratory! Everything around was sickeningly pink, with ruffles and lace, and the suffocating smell of caramel made me want to hang myself. And when I say "everything," I mean everything down to the last detail: pink, lacy, like the hem of some pre-revolutionary doll's dress I glimpsed in childhood. Even the scalpel was twisted, as if carved from candy, and lay in an equally ornate medical tray, decorated with scarlet hearts and... of course, pink. Aaaaaah!
Music poured from a pink-and-scarlet radiola, carefully covered with ruffled napkins – like from a music box. It drowned out a quiet voice, occasionally interspersed with giggles. My head was processing with difficulty, thoughts were slipping away, as if after a severe hangover... but as soon as I made out the words, my long-suffering head ached even more.
"Subject 'P3', just like the others, after reaching puberty..." a dolphin in a child's dress was broadcasting onto tape, in a girlish voice, occasionally breaking into the hoarse bass of a drunkard before snorting into its fist!
Even after I hit my head against the operating table, to which I was tied by my hands and feet, splayed out in a starfish pose, the surreal hallucination didn't disappear, but only turned towards the sound, staring at me with small eyes.
"Ooooh..." this fish stretched, smiling, causing its chest (size four!) to heave, trying to break free from the captivity of the dress and corset, tailored in a deliberately childish style.
A dolphin... This... well, THIS, came up to me, bending down, exposing its décolletage, from which its wealth was almost falling out, professionally examining me. If its chest had fallen out and hit me in the head, it would have been crushed like a ripe pumpkin!
"Ouch-ouch-ouch, Comrade Nechaev! It's impolite to stare at a girl like that!" the anthropomorphic fish exclaimed, straightening up, saving the remnants of my sanity. How can a wasp waist hold all this?!
I flinched, but the fabric bandages held securely, and I had little strength.
"No-no-no!" it shook its finger. "This is all for your own good. Oh, Comrade! What did you soil your little bed with?!"
"WHAAAAAT!" I was stunned, feeling my eyes bulge and my jaw drop.
In response, the fish gracefully waved its slender hand, turning to the opposite wall, causing its impressively sized "stern" to sway, rustling its skirts. As if obeying its movement, the tile became transparent, turning into a screen, showing a pouf on which small mongrels of all sorts of nobility slept... Someone had soiled it, and not even... In short, it was floating, so you understand! I couldn't even come up with something like that after a beer binge!!!
"You were a bad comrade!" it accused, stamping its foot, and its skirts flew up, revealing a slender leg clad in a nylon stocking and lacy panties, completely shattering my psyche! "You'll have to... be treated. Sister!"
A rabbit in a lab coat and a pink bow ran into the laboratory, opening the door and pattering cutely on the tiles, looking devotedly at the monster, devouring it with its gaze, catching every word.
"Instrument!" it demanded, extending a gloved hand towards the rodent. And then... I will have nightmares about where and how the metal scissors were retrieved and the subsequent horror.
"Nix eggs," the monster chirped, adding in a bass at the end. "Snip-snip!"
The scissors clicked, full of satisfaction and anticipation...
Two young nurses watched the man raging in a feverish delirium, whom their senior colleagues, more familiar with such individuals, had tied to the bed.
"What strength!" stammered the younger one, who had only graduated from medical school this year and was doing her internship at "Pavlov." She looked at the steel ropes of muscles rolling under the patient's skin like a hungry cat. Seeing the bed creak, the girl could only think of one thing, and it wasn't medicine or sympathy for the patient.
"He's fighting someone even in his sleep," the more experienced colleague shrugged indifferently, having seen enough naked men for three lifetimes and knowing perfectly well that you shouldn't look at them, but take the initiative. Especially if you decide to romance military men. They are Suvorovs in the smoking room, but in reality, they often lose under the onslaught of ladies, raising the white flag. "Otherwise, he's just a man like all the others. And married to someone who will kill you like you ate a pastry from our canteen."
"But they're delicious!" the young one protested. "And anyway, men don't like bones!"
"Judging by your appetite, you've decided to overwhelm men with a storm wave," the more experienced one chuckled. "If something else were... tasty, maybe you'd be married already!"
"You're vulgar!" the intern protested, blushing like a poppy.
Her older friend just smiled slyly, adding even more maliciously, "Notice, it's not me staring at a married man. And after that, I'm vulgar?"
"Maybe if he wasn't married, I..." the younger one began, blushing even more, but was interrupted by the sound of tearing reinforced fabric.
"I won't surrender alive!!!" the deputy commander of the "Argentum" squad, still not fully conscious, howled, and his cry coincided with the tearing of the bonds.
The man seemed to be thrown from the bed. Not yet fully comprehending, with one movement, he tore off a metal handrail from his bed, sending it flying. At the last moment, his mind caught the discrepancy and directed his hand slightly higher, so the steel pipe with torn edges, piercing the glass reinforced with steel mesh, whistled only over the younger nurse's head, slightly stirring her hair with a gust of air. With a dull thud, the bed fragment embedded itself in the wall, vibrating slightly in the brickwork.
Shaking his head, finally shaking off the remnants of the nightmare, the completely naked Major Nechaev, except for the glove on his left hand, not at all ashamed of his nakedness, shuffled his foot, lowered his gaze, smiled charmingly, and said:
"Excuse me."
This served as a trigger for the two nurses. Dropping their shoes and screaming like students at the sight of a rat, they shamefully fled the battlefield, admitting their complete defeat and rout.
Nechaev, however, thoughtfully scratched the back of his head with his left hand, marveling at such a reaction, and only then felt a cold breeze lower down his back.
"Damn it!" he cursed, pulling a sheet from the bed. Covering his shame as best he could, he began to rummage through the ward, trying to find a uniform or clothes, until doctors rushed in at the noise.
That was awkward... It's all the dolphin's fault! There! No need to dream!!!
"I would advise, if you are feeling well, of course, to leave quickly... I will be very uncomfortable listening to your excuses to the doctors," KRAZ reminded me of his existence.
So, another problem has reminded me of itself...
Putting on my boots on the go, I hurried to take his advice and quietly slip away, but it wasn't that easy! Easily orienting myself in the complex, I darted like a small gray mouse down the corridor. The medics had thoughtfully boarded up the windows, knowing that we didn't have time to lie around on government food, cutting off the most obvious escape route.
Okay! Right. Right. Left. There's the lounge and meeting room! It has a wonderful three-part window...
I carefully brake in front of the room and quickly open the coveted door.
"Oh, Plutonium," Argon's tired voice came from the depths of the room, instantly making me want to stand at attention. "We've been waiting for you."
Yeah, right. Like attracts like and thinks similarly. The whole squad was here, except for those on duty in distant countries, waiting for the signal.
All the guys were sitting on soft sofas or armchairs, indulging in tea with baranki.
"Commander..." I managed to say before I was interrupted.
There were two entrances to the room, and the second door, judging by how it was opened, was kicked in like a battering ram.
"There he is!" one of the nurses I had scared squeaked.
"We're so... and he's so... at us... and then... a pipe," the plump girl whispered in a hoarse voice, pointing at my groin with her finger, stammering. "This big!!!"
And she spread her hands so wide that not every man boasts like that after fishing.
Argon, turning his head at the sharp sound, slowly, like a tank turret, shifted his gaze to me. His expressively raised eyebrow said a lot.
My wife was quietly sipping her tea, but the tips of her ears betrayed everything she was thinking. Who else but Katya would know... She looked at the nurse with a very eloquent gaze, then at me.
Mercury slowly slid down the armchair. Girl number two in the squad was silently laughing. Silently, only because she was afraid of scaring away the free entertainment program.
The other comrades were simply waiting for the resolution of the play.
"You're a dangerous man, Plutonium," Radon broke the silence. "You were always modest, but you have an anti-tank rifle, judging by the caliber..."
"She's lying! As she showed, it should be down to my knees! Katya, you tell them!" I exclaimed, and only then did I realize what I had said.
"Better be quiet..." she moaned, hiding her face, red with shame, in her palms, fighting a fit of laughter.
"As you wish, but I won't turn my back to him in the bathhouse again!" declared the completely bandaged Lithium, causing Litmus to snort nervously, and then, looking at the two nurses, from whom one could light a cigarette, he burst into hearty laughter, causing everyone else to laugh.
Mustering courage, I explained the situation, which caused another fit of laughter, from which even the head physician of the department slid down.
"You don't lack modesty, Plutonium," Argon said with a stony face, not even cracking a smile. "Many would be happy in his place... with such a flattering assessment and envy Blesna, and he..."
The commander took his revenge, he really took revenge for my jokes. Now I was the one who could be lit. I won't even mention Katya...
And so, with jokes and banter, we loaded into the helicopter and headed for "Chelomey." What can I say: our nerves were shot after all the adventures, and such a release, though stupid, was welcome. In our environment, you can't do without humor. Without it, you won't die in a trench, but you'll hang yourself from boredom.
In the last two days, we had already made several circles in the air around the Enterprise's territory, and each time it looked different.
The festive atmosphere of the beginning was replaced by the ashes of fires, and now welding and the healthy bustle of construction shone everywhere. People tried to forget that horror as quickly as possible with their worries, shortening the wait for the holiday. The activation of "The Collective" could not be overshadowed even by spilled blood, despite the deaths. The fallen, of course, cannot be returned, and their relatives mourn them, but this was not visible in the overall picture, which does not mean the absence of sympathy from those around. Unfortunately, in recent years, funerals and death have become frequent guests in every home. In fact, for the sake of a promise and hope to end the series of deaths and wars, everyone was waiting for the activation of the neural network. So it will be, but the future will have to pay a bloody price.
No matter how hard we tried to create a better world, it will begin with the blood of those creatures that almost tore apart and destroyed the old order. Our comrades did a colossal job, uncovering truly age-old dirt. They went headlong, risking themselves, to bring the truth to light, which had been hidden for years under a thick layer of lies. Many paid with their lives, but their sacrifice was not in vain.
Although we have caught a big fish that could have prevented the activation, many seasoned creatures still remain in the world. And their judgment awaits them in a few hours. Their time has run out. Soon the moment of reckoning will come, and each of them will answer for what they have done. We will finish what we started, and not a single shadow of the old order will escape retribution.
As for the fact that I, like many others, will have to turn out my soul, showing everything I saw, heard, and felt, after being put on the bench of the accused, there was no fear. People are much better than they seem from the outside. Especially when they can speak their minds without personal consequences. It will only take a couple of seconds for the collective power of people to pass a sentence. The subconscious will work faster than the consciousness, bypassing much of the superficial in personality, issuing a decision that will be a compromise for everyone. And then some will have no chance. I just don't think only we will speak out. It's scary for one person to stand metaphorically naked in the square, but when there are thousands like that, it's easier.
Then it will only remain to carry out the sentence. For this, there are us – professional men and women, trained to strike. Our hands will not tremble, because behind every blow is the memory of those who did not live to see this day. And I'm not talking about our comrades. They knew what they were getting into. I'm talking about those who died, tortured by these villains.
Moreover, not all party members or officials will face swift retribution. Some will simply be stripped of power and left alone. Their sins are not so great as to impose a death sentence on them. Most are just cogs in the system, blindly following orders. They can be retrained, rebuilt, integrated into the new order. The main thing is that the new rules of the game become clear. And then even former enemies will understand: resistance is futile, and cooperation is the only way to the future.
In short, when the helicopter touched down on the surface of the flying city, I was ready. I had one last thing to do before activation.
The city is festive again, and only we are a large, gloomy spot on its streets, disharmonious against the backdrop of general joy with tears in our eyes. At such a moment, you feel more acutely than ever the responsibility that lies on us.
I squeezed Katya's hand encouragingly, and she smiled at me in return. It's not easy for her either. Only two hours left until activation. Two hours until a new era of humanity. And these two hours are like the last moments before the first parachute jump. It's scary, like your leg will start bleeding now, and adrenaline is pressing...
The administrative building greeted us with an orthodox interior, glorifying the party, but not the people, although the country has been living autonomously from it for about two years.
The elevator quickly counted the floors, taking us to the Wizard's office. He met us with unusual silence and absence of people. We were only met by two bodyguards of the head of the scientific council, who nodded приветственно to Argon.
In solemn silence, we proceeded to the negotiation room, jingling with light armor and weapons. Only Dmitry Sergeevich was waiting for us there. His third robot bodyguard doesn't count.
We stopped near a round table, at the opposite end of which sat the Wizard, a few steps away.
"The time has come," the commander said grimly. "We are taking the scientific council under guard. Too much depends on your safety now."
"I'm doing what I have to," the Wizard said dryly, turning to me. "But we still have one unfinished business."
His gaze was too demanding to be interpreted otherwise. Indeed, there is no more time to delay.
I step forward, drawing a blued knife with a quiet rustle. The ceramic blade flashed in the air. The wind generator began to sing its song, making the blade vibrate at a speed invisible to the eye.
Exhaling, I plunge the knife into flesh and yank sharply, ignoring the pain and the spurting blood. The blade, emitting a melodious hum, especially strong when it passed through the alloy-reinforced bone, severed the left hand just above the wrist, along with the storage of a too cunning AI. I stopped calling him human a long time ago.
"You could have just taken it off," my godfather winced.
"You yourself said that we need to make a fuss," I reasonably remark, cutting the power cable of the glove completely and bandaging the stump with a pre-prepared special tie, while Katya has already injected me with combat drugs.
"So the machine came in handy... Comrade Lebedev was right. Again," the Wizard nodded to himself.
"And where did I slip up?" the creature, known to everyone as CHAR-les and who posed as Khariton Zakharov, a deceased academician several years ago, asked too calmly...