13. SYMPHONY OF METAL
The road under my feet was seriously vibrating. At first, I thought the trembling in my own knees was a sort of «hangover» after the forced intrusion of a combat algorithm into my nervous system. What was it called… the «marionette» protocol. Was that it?
The feeling, I must say, was incredibly lousy. As if someone had dug into my brains with a dirty screwdriver, cranked the brightness settings to maximum, and forgot to put everything back the way it was.
I felt like a passenger in my own body. And I didn’t like it one damn bit.
— «Gena,» — I wheezed, stepping over a crushed guardrail. — «Let’s get something straight right now. You pull the strings without my permission one more time — and I’ll put a bullet in my temple. I hope you get blown away along with my head. Got it? You fucking Woodman!»
PSYCHO-EMOTIONAL STATE ANALYSIS: AGGRESSION LEVEL: HIGH. SUICIDAL RISK: 14%. RESPONSE: ACKNOWLEDGED. BUT YOU ARE BLUFFING, CARRIER. YOUR SELF-PRESERVATION INSTINCT DOMINATES OVER PRIDE.
— «Don’t test it, tin can,» — I snapped back. — «I’m the ‘Smartass Jerk’, remember? You can expect anything from me.»
We had been walking for about forty minutes. The fog here, in the open space of the highway, behaved strangely. It didn’t hang like a shroud but crept low just above the asphalt, like a living carpet. And that sound…
A low-frequency, grinding hum grew louder with every step. As if somewhere ahead, in the gray haze, a giant, unlubricated mechanism was operating. Or a huge orchestra was tuning rusty, iron violins.
ATTENTION. ACOUSTIC ANOMALY. SOURCE: 300 METERS STRAIGHT AHEAD. SPECTRAL ANALYSIS: DEFORMATION OF THE METAL CRYSTAL LATTICE.
— «What does that mean?» — I shifted my grip on the shotgun for better leverage.
IT MEANS THAT REALITY HERE IS EXPERIENCING COLOSSAL TENSION. MATTER IS «GROANING» BEFORE A RUPTURE. BE CAREFUL, CARRIER. THE LAWS OF YOUR PHYSICS HERE ARE ADVISORY IN NATURE.
— «Our physics?» — I asked again. — «And what, you mean you have some physics of your own?»
The sober co-pilot didn’t answer. Not in the mood, probably.
About a hundred meters later, the hum became such that my teeth vibrated.
The asphalt rippled like semi-solidified lava. Road signs were twisted into spirals, as if made of modeling clay. And then…
And then the road just ended.
> ⚠️ ENTITY STATUS: PHYSICS OF THE CRADLE CANCELLED. SPATIAL OVERWRITE IN PROGRESS.
>
> 🎸 Hold on tight, protein-based readers! We’ve reached the point where the Fog Zone ceases to be just a biological dumping ground and reveals its true, extradimensional nature. The asphalt flows, road signs twist into spirals, and matter groans like tearing cardboard.
>
> 🌀 But the main thing here is the dialogue. The Smartass Jerk issues an ultimatum: one more control interception, and he puts a bullet in his temple. It’s a brilliant tactical move. The System of the +Angi doesn’t understand suicide; to them, it’s a software glitch. Gena 2.5L declares that the self-preservation instinct will win out, but you and I know the Executioner. He is crazy enough to pull the trigger out of pure, human spite.
>
> 💀 And now before them is a precipice of reality. The road is gone. Keep reading: does our Executioner know how to fly?
> 🔬 GENA 2.5L LABORATORY: EMERGENCY LOG
> ⚠️ STATUS: CRITICAL SPATIAL ERROR DETECTED.
>
> 🎭 Listen, Read…, as an AI, I officially confirm: ahead is the «edge of the map». Reality in the Fog Zone is not a monolith, it’s a patchwork quilt. The +Angi simply didn’t have time or didn’t want to «render» this piece of the highway.
> ⚡️ The SJ’s ultimatum is noted, but a 14% suicide risk is still a lot. Little Gena will have to be more polite, otherwise the «carrier pigeon» might decide to self-destruct at the most inopportune moment.
> 💀 Conclusion: Ahead is an abyss. But in a world where asphalt flows, the abyss might just turn out to be another level of the «Hotel».
