SOTOPIA: Artificial Pseudo-God

The black Sonata drove out of the main road smoothly, and stopped in the open space on the edge of the old industrial area on the outskirts of the city after a while of twists and turns.The already dilapidated "industrial remains" are empty and deserted. I am afraid that even the children nearby would disdain to use this place as a secret base for gathering and having fun.In front of him was a two-story building with a small footprint, which looked like a warehouse.The concrete exterior was unpainted, and the iron ceiling was rusty—of course, it’s also possible that the original color on the walls has been eroded away over the years, leaving only a lifeless shell.

"How did you find this?" Moskevich asked.

Steven put on gloves for himself first, then took out his gun, calmly confirmed the number of bullets, and replied casually: "I got this person's background information from some sources, such as previous family assets and tax records. File It shows that their family went bankrupt as early as the end of the last century, and the several small businesses they originally owned have been sold off, leaving only one dilapidated factory still under the name of the eldest son—to be precise, the property rights of this land , but I’m afraid it can’t be sold now. If the apartment is empty, he probably transferred people here. Of course, this is just my intuition.”

He glanced at Moskevich, who was standing by the car waiting for his next move, and couldn't help asking, "Are you really going to come in with me? I don't know what's inside."

Moskevich gave him an unceremonious look, and took out a stick from his pocket.Grab the handle firmly and flick it with force, and the slot of the metal product will make a crisp sound when it is aligned. His usual melee self-defense weapon is already in place. "I can protect myself, you don't have to worry about me." He said.

Steven couldn't help but raised the corners of his mouth.He waved his hand, signaling Moskevich to follow behind him.

The warehouse door was naturally locked and covered with rust, apparently it hadn't been opened for a long time.Steven led Moskevich around, and finally found the underground garage behind the warehouse.The garage shutter door was pulled up to a gap about half a meter high. It seemed that the door frame was stuck by something and could not be closed.The two crawled in and got covered in dust without a doubt.

The interior of the empty warehouse is cold and dry, like a huge concrete coffin.Although it was still daylight, most of the warehouse was shrouded in darkness due to the lack of windows.Steven took out the flashlight and exposed the silent building to the light step by step.

The ground is covered with thick dust, and every step you take will startle a circle of old dirt.The two walked upstairs from the underground garage on the iron stairs. Moskevich raised his arms subconsciously, using his sleeves to cover the turbid particles floating in the air.He noticed that what was here was not pure deserted and long-lasting dead air, but another kind of weird and subtle atmosphere.

"Will the target suddenly appear here?" Moskevich looked at Steven's back and asked, holding the popped stick tightly.

The man walking in front shook his head: "I have already asked Elias, he will use technical means to keep an eye on him, and if there is any problem, he will notify me immediately."

"You two get along quite well."

"Aren't you like Higgins too?"

By the light of the flashlight, Moskevich discovered more and more details that were wrong.He grabbed Steven's hand and motioned him to take a photo on the top of his head and surroundings: "See, the circuit and lamp are new, and there are traces of use recently." Immediately afterwards, Moskevich walked lightly to the Next to the wall, put your ears directly to the wall, close your eyes, and hold your breath, as if trying to capture the heartbeat of the building itself.Half a minute later, he opened his eyes and said calmly, "There is no movement from anyone else, but there is the sound of machines running upstairs."

Steven looked at Moskevich, who was in the survey state, with approving eyes.Walking a few steps up the next floor, he suddenly stopped, looked ahead vigilantly, took a few deep breaths regardless of the fact that the air in the room was not circulating, and said softly with a serious face, "I'm afraid this smells bad."

Moskevich, who was following behind him, also sniffed the thin smell in the air, and suddenly the alarm bell rang in his heart, and his face turned pale: "Is the smell of medical alcohol here too strong?"

"Oops." Steven cursed secretly, and trotted a few steps to the source of the smell.The door of the warehouse is locked. If you listen carefully, it is not difficult to find the slight vibration of the motor working inside.

Steven didn't rush to shoot and smash the lock, but went around to the side, aimed at the dusty glass window and kicked it.The shards of glass were still flying, and Steven had already got in.

"Don't go in so fast, if there is danger inside—" Moskevich just wanted to remind, Steven raised his hand, signaling him to stay outside and not follow in.The former detective stared blankly at what was in front of him, almost speechless in shock.

After waiting for a while, Moskevich, who felt something was wrong, asked cautiously, "Is there someone inside?"

In the old warehouse, Steven's voice seemed dry and rough: "If you asked this question a day ago, yes, there should have been 'living people' at that time."

Speaking of this, Moskevich can naturally understand what he means.

Steven added: "I'm afraid he is not buying and selling people, but human bodies. You must not come in, or you will vomit."

Moskevich, who was left outside the room without seeing the specific situation, couldn't help but feel shuddering.He didn't dare to think about what those dead who were stuffed into suitcases or other things and transferred here saw what they saw at the last moment of their lives, and what kind of cold despair they experienced.

"...I will inform Higgins for you. You should contact the LAPD or the FBI. The situation is much worse than you imagined." Moskevich moved to the window, paying attention to the situation in the open space outside, and took out the phone. "This is really troublesome, and I hope the Mara family doesn't know such a disgusting truth." He muttered and dialed the phone.

The police officer who was first dispatched to deal with the matter was an old acquaintance of Steven, which saved them a lot of trouble.Moskevich didn't know what Steven said to those busy civil servants. In short, he didn't seem to need to provide any more testimony to wash away the suspicion brought about by the sudden appearance of the two—perhaps it was Steven Tiven has made the full statement in his stead.

This person is always like this, avoiding any possible risks for him with reasonable grounds, but always blames his own interests and habits when asked why.

Moskevich sat alone in the car, fiddling with the unmanned car that Steven had borrowed from Elias.The simple and precise structure enables this gadget to function stably and efficiently.By the time Steven walked out of the cordon, it was already twilight.

"I may have to assist in the investigation later." Steven said as he got into the car.

Moskevich looked at the alternately flashing warning lights outside the window, and nodded casually.The smell of hair dye is a bit strong, and now he just wants to go back and wash his head back to its original appearance.

In order to adjust the oppressive and dull atmosphere after coming out of the crime scene, Steven turned on the car radio.The announcer's voice trembled with electricity, disturbing the stagnant air in the car.

However, when they heard the accident report and heard the names of acquaintances among the list of dead, Steven swore it was the worst day he had ever had.

On Highway 5 four hours ago, Kay was driving a car alone.She had just returned from San Francisco, and there was a file box lying in the passenger seat.

It was an investigation report on the Yinbao incident, and the outer box was stamped with an encryption seal.

The road was already heavily congested when Tollin called her.Kay had expected this a long time ago, and there was plenty of food and water in the car.Looking down from a high altitude, the dense traffic on Highway 5 is like pieces of matchboxes, moving slowly and slowly.

After getting engaged to Torin, Kay's life doesn't seem to have changed much. She is still busy at work and under great pressure, but she enjoys it.On the phone, Tollin asked how far she was from Los Angeles.

"I'm afraid it will take a few hours, it depends on when it can be unblocked." She replied. "Goodbye, dear."

Immediately afterwards, she spoke to Maynard on the phone.

The boss has been working conscientiously, with a near-zero sense of humor and a tendency to completely disappear.For two years, Maynard has been committed to separating the special office from high-level political games, so as to minimize the impact of the Roberts treason case on Agreement 23.It also inevitably contributed to the marginalization of the department within the FBI.In the eyes of outsiders, this is almost a kind of compromise; but only insiders understand that this kind of tacit and reserved subtle operation is actually the most ideal approach that can be taken at that time.

"I found what you wanted," Kai said.

On the other end of the phone, Maynard said "hmm", and Kay could basically imagine his expression at the moment.

"However, this is just a report commissioned by an external investigation agency by Roberts Greert. I don't know if he will tamper with anything."

"His motivation should be to confirm 'which step outsiders can see'. If Roberts is really related to the Silver Castle incident, he must find his own loopholes, so as to get rid of these ties in turn."

"I see, boss."

Kay threw the phone onto the passenger seat, with an unconscious smile on his face, as if the hydrangea bouquet carefully selected by his fiancé was in front of him, and the brand new ring on his hand was shining brightly in the sun.The world may still be surrounded by dark chaos, but she is not without support.

A few minutes later, in the blocked traffic, a truck that was trying to start when the congestion had eased suddenly lost control and crashed into the side lane.The scene of the serial car accident was a mess. The deformed car body, glass shards and mottled blood stains scattered all over the place, the panicked expressions of witnesses and wounded, and the cries of frightened children plunged this section of the road into a desperate winter.

Kay Johnson was not spared: the violent collision caused internal organs to rupture, and eventually died of excessive blood loss in the ambulance.When her heart stopped, she hadn't seen the bustling lights of Los Angeles at night.

The dried blood became the final package of the confidential investigation report.