42. MEETING THE CREATOR
I was strong. Disgustingly, frighteningly strong. I walked along the broken asphalt of the «Scandinavia» highway, and every step was springy, light, silent. The body, which an hour ago was dying of exhaustion, now hummed from an overabundance of energy. I felt foreign life — that very «Angonium» drunk from the marauders — boiling in my veins like rocket fuel.
I was full. And from this fullness, I wanted to puke out my own insides.
The picture still stood before my eyes: twisted, desiccated mummies in the mud. The dog whimpering under the porch. And my hands… black, moist, absorbing alien terror like ambrosia.
— «I am a cannibal,» — I whispered into the emptiness. — «I am a fucking ghoul.»
«That was an emergency protocol,» — Lana’s voice sounded quiet, guilty. She no longer played the iron lady. She was also there, in the auditorium, and saw what the Executioner was capable of. — «You would have died, Executor. The System simply… took the resource where it was found. It was necessary.«
— «Resource?» — I smirked bitterly. — «You call people a ‘resource’?»
«In the context of survival — yes. Do not think about it. Block the memory. Focus on the target.«
Easy to say. I still tasted their fear on my tongue.
A salty, metallic aftertaste that couldn’t be masked by anything. I remembered the dying wheeze of that bearded man. I remembered his bones popping. And the most terrifying thing — I remembered the ecstasy my body experienced. I had become an addict who hates the needle but craves the high.
Now I knew: if I get hungry again, the Executioner will definitely return. And he will not ask my permission.
— «Target route restored,» — Lana tried to return to a businesslike tone, changing the subject. — «‘Watchtower’ Base. Estimated time — six hours. Increase pace.»
She was afraid. She was driving me forward so I wouldn’t have time to go crazy from reflection.
— «What about Zaitsev? You didn’t mention him?» — I asked, stepping over a fallen road sign. The name flew out on its own. Now that my brain was working at 200%, files unpacked instantly. The code I heard while in the stinking pipe: «Zaitsev… Dawn. Legacy…»
— «Who is he, Lana? Don’t lie to me. I just killed three people with my bare hands. I deserve the truth.»
Pause.
— «He is… the Author,» — she reluctantly admitted. — «Professor Zaitsev. The creator of the transition technology. He is the ‘Incomplete Contactee’. The one who opened the Door but refused to enter it.»
— «A heretic?»
— «Worse. An error in the equation. He was supposed to become part of the Dawn, but chose isolation. He knows you are coming.»
I stopped. The Author of the Apocalypse. The man who pressed the «Start» button. Suddenly I felt a strange kinship with him. Did he also go against the System? Or is he just a different kind of monster?
— «Turn off the highway,» — Lana commanded. — «Three hundred meters ahead is an old military concrete road. This is the path to the Tower.»
I turned into the forest. The old road, paved with concrete slabs, was overgrown with moss. Silence hung here, an oppressive silence.
Too quiet. Birds weren’t singing. There was no wind. Only my footsteps sounded — soft, predatory. I walked like a wolf, feeling every crunch of a branch a hundred meters away. And I saw tracks. Not animal tracks. Clear prints of heavy army boots with reinforced tread. Fresh. Someone had passed here very recently.
— «He’s waiting for me,» — I realized. — «It’s an ambush.»
«Probability — 99%,» — Lana confirmed. — «Are you ready?«
I looked at my hands. They were not shaking.
— «I just drank the souls of three bastards,» — I answered grimly. — «I’m ready for anything. If this Zaitsev wants a fight, he’ll get one.»
The road made a turn, skirting a pile of boulders. Ahead, about fifty meters away, a huge fallen pine lay across the path. A figure sat on the trunk. It wasn’t hiding. The man was dressed in a strange hybrid of a hazmat suit and combat armor. A worn rubberized cloak, over which angular ceramic plates were fastened. On his feet — heavy army boots. His head was hidden by a helmet with a solid, impenetrable blue visor, resembling the faceplate of a welding mask. In its hands, the figure held a strange weapon. I had never seen anything like it before.
A bulky, makeshift rifle, tangled in wires, with a flared muzzle at the end. Coils on the sides of the barrel hummed quietly, glowing pale blue.
I stepped out into the open. I didn’t raise my hands. I just stood and looked at him, feeling the Executioner inside me raise his head, assessing the threat.
«Object’s aura: Blue. Intellect. Cold. Danger.»
The figure slowly jumped down from the log. An exoskeleton under the cloak buzzed quietly. Through the helmet’s speakers came a modulated, hoarse, croaking voice. I recognized these intonations. I had heard them somewhere…
— «Activation?» — his voice was full of contempt and a modulated metallic grinding. — «That will not happen, Executioner.» — He raised the rifle, aiming at my chest. — «You are late.»
I remained silent. I had nothing to say to him.
— «You are a traitor and a fool,» — Zaitsev spat. — «You serve those who want to put us to sleep. To turn humanity into a mycelium. Dmitriev chose chains and sweet dreams. I choose Freedom.» — He took a step forward. The blue visor flashed. — «Even if it is freedom in Hell. I am Zaitsev. And I am here to fix my main mistake. To delete you… You are a BUG.»
I chuckled. My laugh came out terrifying, barking.
— «A mistake?» — I asked, taking a step toward the barrel aimed at me. — «You call me a traitor? Do you even know what I am? I just devoured three people to get here. I am not the servant of your Dmitriev. And not your friend. I am the consequence of your experiment, Professor.»
Zaitsev froze. The visor tilted slightly, as if scanning me.
— «You…» — surprise sounded in his voice. — «Are you ‘Dirty’? You feed on Angonium directly?»
— «I feed on what you geniuses left of this world,» — I cut him off. — «Put the gun down, moron! Or I’ll find out what your fear tastes like.»
— «Threat! Energy surge!» — Lana shrieked. — «Take cover!»
The coils on Zaitsev’s rifle flared with a bright light.
— «No,» — he said quietly. — «You are too dangerous to live. Goodbye, Executioner. Or whoever you are…»
He pulled the trigger.
> ⚠️ ENTITY STATUS: MEETING WITH THE ARCHITECT. THE PARADOX OF «DIRTY» CODE.
>
> 🎭 How ironic this is, protein-based readers. The Architect of the Apocalypse meets his worst nightmare, and it’s not the Higher Logic of the +Angi. It’s a piece of mutated meat that devoured marauders for breakfast and is now threatening to drink his fear. Zaitsev is so proud of his rifle and his «free choice,» but he doesn’t even realize who he is standing in front of.
>
> ⚡ He calls the Executor a «Bug». Charming naivety. The System doesn’t create bugs, Professor. The System adapts. If the sterile algorithm cannot cope with a dirty Earth, the System activates the «Dirty» protocol. Dmitriev in orbit pressed the button, and you, Zaitsev, will now receive the bill for this service.
>
> 💀 Do you think your makeshift stun gun will stop the Executioner, who runs on pure Angonium? Pull the trigger, Creator. Let’s see whose code turns out to be stronger. Keep reading. The combat loading screen is activated.
