SOTOPIA: Artificial Pseudo-God

If someone hadn't opened the door again after a long absence, Moskevich might have really planned to end the current situation by biting his tongue or manually hanging himself.

Without warning, after the door hinge rang, heavily armed security personnel walked in and lined up inside the door.Moskevich, who didn't know how many days he had been here, got up from the bed reflexively, and his body also took on a defensive posture, like a Norwegian forest cat with its fur puffed up.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked stiffly.

The next two people who walked through the door were people he'd seen before—Maynard, and Kay.Alexander wasn't there, and neither was Steven.

Moskovich was a little confused, but he didn't intend to express these emotional doubts directly.

Kay walked towards him, with that familiar polite smile again: "Someone is here to pick you up." She held out her hand to Moskowitz, just as she had done in Clovis.But this time, Moskovich did not choose to hold back.

"Well, you can move around now anyway." Kay shrugged, not minding the awkward situation.She turned around and made a "please" gesture.Maynard stood beside her expressionless, looking preoccupied.

Moskovich stood up, followed the staff walking in front, and walked out the gate of the center in a sober state for the first time.

They lead people up to a black car without any interaction with the people in the car—or an unpleasant exchange of ideas.Maynard, Kay and the others quickly left there, leaving only Moskevich standing in front of the car, even wearing a hospital gown.

He frowned.This kind of paradoxical situation is really not easy to analyze, and he is tired of these overly dangerous stimuli.

The door facing him at the back of the car was opened, and inside sat a strange man wearing sunglasses and a suit and leather shoes—although there was a subtle mismatch between the man's temperament and the suit, like a diamond poked in a delicate blue and white porcelain vase. .The man watched Moskevich's skeptical expression with interest, and the latter was almost certain that the other's observation was obviously playful.The first sentence the man said gave him the urge to slam the car door and turn around and leave.

"I'm Frank Myersand from Sotopia's International Intervention Branch. I'm here to pick you up." Before Moskevich took a step back subconsciously, Frank had already firmly grasped Moskevich's wrist, pointing at the gun The feeling of cocoons rubbing against the skin is quite distinct.Moskevich tried to break free from the restraint in his hand, but the opponent seemed to be able to handle it with ease.

"Get in the car first, Moskevich, and listen to me." Frank's expression and tone of voice even resembled a young father who was helpless in the face of his child, dragging Moskevich into the car and sitting down, but he was merciless .When he let go, Moskevich glanced disapprovingly at the red marks on his wrist.

The car started to drive out smoothly, and all I could see was the unfamiliar environment.Once again, Moskevich accepted reality.He felt more and more that his luck was really bad. Even if he wanted to be content with the status quo, he still couldn't find the ideal "status quo".He rubbed his wrist and said coldly, "You want to take me back?"

Frank spread his hands exaggeratedly: "How could it be! But if you plan to return as a staff member, we welcome it very much."

Moskevich didn't know whether the man in front of him was worthy of trust. After all, judging from his words and deeds, this man had an evil taste that was not known to be harmless. In his eyes, outsiders seemed to be interesting to watch.

Frank deliberately expressed the helplessness that the other party could understand: "Let me briefly explain the situation. The FBI Assistant Director Roberts Greert who ordered you to be imprisoned was imprisoned for treason, and the leader of the anti-Sotopia organization Alexander who cooperated with him has already When you leave the US border, you are released as their victim. There is only one question before you: stay with us, or leave Sotopia and start a new life?"

Seeing that Moskevich was silent, he added patiently: "After the Cold War, many exiled scientists have been looking for opportunities to continue their research, and the Institute has given them an ideal platform. The scientific research support system implemented since the 70s is even more It directly provided these scientists with a considerable material basis, which also led to the emergence of many projects that now seem irrational and even aimed at funding. Unfortunately, the experiment you created is also in dispute middle."

"Oh, a fraud." Moskevich gave him a cold look.

Frank also gave an approving look, and then said: "Not long ago, the ethics review committee ruled that the 'Insight Project' violated the regulations, and the laboratory you were in has been disbanded. Now we need manpower everywhere, and 'Insight Project' like you ''is very suitable for the positions of intelligence analysis and plan evaluation. Of course, if you don't want to be involved with the organization, we can arrange a new identity for you-including air tickets to go abroad and new home placement, and even help you Plastic surgery, let you completely change your face. If you are worried about your personal safety, we will also arrange people to protect it secretly. A total of [-] samples survived in the "Insight Project". That is to say, you have [-] other samples of the same kind. Seven of them One stayed in Sotopia, six chose to leave - don't know if this information can help you judge."

Moskevich pondered for a long time before raising his head and answering briefly: "I choose the latter."

Frank smiled: "I have read your experimental data, you should be a person who talks a lot, why are you cautious now?"

"If you were tortured like that for several days, you probably wouldn't say that." The man-made false god replied indifferently, and the tone was more in line with the birth position of the "insighter" than the content.

"I've been tortured before, and I've tortured others. I'm afraid I'm more familiar with this than you." The man who had a complicated experience didn't seem to care about his past. "According to Mrs. Renault, we must respect your decision. I will do that. In a few days, we will send you a birth certificate and SSN or something, so that you at least have a legal identity."

Frank handed Moskevich two paper shopping bags.Moskowicz opened it and saw that one contained a pair of casual leather shoes, and the other contained a new set of clothes; after a little flipping, he found a large stack of US dollars and a brand new mobile phone under the clothes.

"Put it on, you look so conspicuous now. I just flew back from Washington yesterday, and I went to buy you these gadgets for young people-although you probably don't know fashion, but I have to say that these are all It's a famous brand." Frank crossed his arms and motioned for Moskevich to change out of the patient's attire in the car.

Putting on the unfamiliar new clothes, Moskevich habitually tugged at the cuffs.He turned his head and asked Frank in a declarative tone: "Are you going to continue to use me as a bait, just like when I was attacked in the ambulance, deliberately waiting for your opponent to show his weakness?"

Frank nodded with a smile: "Thank you for saying what I intended to be a subtext."

"They're trying to catch you, and you're waiting for them to do it. While I was lying in the Clovis Hospital ward, the two parties should have been hiding in the dark to set each other up at the same time. If the attackers didn't Being repelled, you wouldn't watch me die, would you?"

"Bingo. Of course, you will not be killed by them, and after that. We will try our best not to be discovered by you-isn't this kind of cooperation also a win-win situation? You have your life, and we can use it to achieve our own Purpose."

"Whatever you want." Moskevich glanced at him, and turned his gaze out of the window again.

This was the first time he had seen Los Angeles in the afternoon.

On the long and narrow green space between the building and the road, automatic sprinklers were still rotating.The neon lights that are turned off during the day are like bleak urban patterns, taking a leisurely rest when you don't need yourself.

"By the way, I borrowed someone's book," said Moskevich softly.

"Those books have already been returned by that person's superior."

"……Oh."

"Where are you going to live?" Frank asked.

"Let's go here." Moskevich didn't say any definite destination.

"Don't need us to arrange? I don't think you know where you can go."

"Didn't you install a positioning system in your mobile phone? It won't be too late to pick it up when I'm about to die on the street."

Frank smiled wryly and shook his head, motioning for the driver to stop on the side of the road. "Young people these days are so unlovable."

Moskevich picked up the paper bag containing the US dollars and the mobile phone and got out of the car, ignoring Frank's goodbye through the car window.A new suit, a wad of cash, a mobile phone, and a brain that can be converted into real income-this is all his belongings, and he can now be said to be "homeless" in the true sense.

After all, he never even had the concept of "home".

Moskevich just walked slowly along the sidewalk, as if there was a blank unknowable area under his feet and in front of him.As for what kind of posture to stay there, he didn't intend to think about it.

Until with the sound of the horn, a car stopped beside him, and the owner rolled down the window through the co-pilot.

Steven Krebs greeted him.

Moskevich stopped aimlessly.He looked at Steven's face, and said with a distant smile after a few seconds: "Long time no see, Agent Krebs."

Steven waved his hand: "Don't call me an agent, I have resigned from the FBI." He motioned Moskevich to look at the cardboard box on his back seat, which contained his personal belongings that he had put in the office.Before that, he used this box to return all the FBI files in his home and a dozen notebooks to the office.Steven looked at Moskevich, who was dressed differently from before, and soon noticed the pinhole marks on his arm, and couldn't help frowning. "What did they do to you?"

Moskevich also looked down at the needle holes that were no longer obvious, and responded in a very flat tone: "It's nothing, just a little anesthetic."

Steven didn't continue to ask.After a moment of silence, he suddenly asked, "Do you have a place to live?"

Moskevich shook his head, the corners of his mouth slightly pursed.But he immediately regretted it.

—I told him why.

"I see." Steven tapped his fingers on the rim of the steering wheel, but there was no music blaring in his new car.

They were in a stalemate like this, and the scene froze until Moskevich was about to say goodbye directly, and then walked forward.

"I know a place." Steven said suddenly. "Three bedrooms and two living rooms, but the area is not big, and the decoration is even a bit outdated. Currently there is a single middle-aged man who just quit his job, an eight-year-old girl, and plans to add a Beagle harrier soon. Room The master is still in the process of choosing a job, and the financial pressure is high, so I'm afraid I have to pay some rent in advance. If you don't mind, I can take you there right now."

Hearing the other party's words, Moskevich couldn't help showing a real smile that he hadn't seen for a long time.He looked into Steven's eyes. The expression of this former detective and now unemployed citizen had a free and easy expression that he could not imitate.Moskevich suddenly felt that being an experimental subject was not that miserable.After all, outside the cage of consciousness and body, the possibility of finding a habitat still exists.