The Decaying Dream of America: I Assemble Corpses and Confront Madness

The conference room was filled with the aroma of ground coffee beans, mixed with the dry smell of printing paper.

Outside the window, the leaden sunlight barely illuminated the ancient brick walls of Miskatonic University.

The air was heavy, and the sound of paper rubbing could be heard with every subtle movement.

Professor Alistair Finch stood at the conference table, in front of him were complex data graphs projected by several miniature projectors.

He was wearing a custom-made tweed suit, toying with a fountain pen in his hand, his fingertips lightly tapping the table.

His gaze swept over every student researcher present, finally settling on Lin Zheng's face.

"It seems, Lin Zheng, that your latest report contains some... interesting 'biases'."

Professor Finch's voice was steady, devoid of any emotion.

The data graphs switched with his words, and Lin Zheng's experimental data curves were magnified. The "noise" he deliberately implanted twisted on the screen. It did not conform to any known emotion model, but it did not have a clear error label.

"These 'anomalies' are so tiny, yet they stubbornly persist."

Professor Finch pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, a playful smile playing on his lips.

"Of course, I believe this may just be a random fluctuation in your personal mental state, or it may be an 'innovative challenge' for our experimental design."

Lin Zheng lowered his eyes, his face expressionless.

He could feel Finch's gaze fixed on him, a gaze that was both cold and inquisitive.

This is exactly what he wanted.

This precise direction, like bait thrown by Finch, lured him to explore more deeply.

"My suggestion is, Lin Zheng, you need to conduct more intensive reproducibility experiments to ensure that our model is not affected by any 'non-scientific factors'." Professor Finch's instruction was unquestionable, but his tone was understated.

"Of course, Professor."

Lin Zheng responded softly, his voice devoid of any emotion.

He looked up and met Finch's gaze; their eyes briefly met in the air.

A barely perceptible glint of excitement flashed in Finch's eyes, like a chess player who had seen his opponent fall into a trap and was looking forward to the start of a good show.

"Because..." Professor Finch added, "all my 'sample' data should be 'perfect'."

After the meeting ended, Lin Zheng walked out of the conference room.

The damp, cold air rushed towards him, and he could feel the eyes hidden behind the warm mask, quietly locking onto him.

The afternoon rain sprinkled across the sky above Emerald Dream City, the fine raindrops tapping softly against the windowpane of Dr. Evelyn Reed's private office.

Evelyn sat behind a desk piled high with documents, several yellowed academic journals and copies of Professor Finch's early papers spread out on it.

Before her lay a detailed report she had just completed, its title boldly proclaiming, "The Medical Report on Josh Wicker's Death: Reassessment and Anomalies."

She wore black-rimmed glasses, and her fingertips moved slowly across the page.

She carefully circled the edges of these documents in red pen, and the obscure terms and vague theories began to reveal their terrifying true nature under her professional knowledge.

Professor Finch devoted himself to theoretical research on "emotional inhibition" and "rational transformation" in his early years.

In her early papers, Evelyn found numerous discussions about how to "quantify" and "manage" negative human emotions.

In one instance, Finch mentions that by combining specific sensory stimuli with cognitive tasks, a "pure intellectual potential" can be "refined" for "building more efficient social models."

"Pure rational potential energy."

This is not just academic theory.

Her report clearly documented many suspicious points regarding Josh Vick's cause of death: trace amounts of tranquilizers were detected in his body, but this was accompanied by an excessive adrenaline response due to extreme stress, as well as specific patterns of neuronal activity in the cerebral cortex.

Josh's death was not a simple drug overdose, nor was it a normal mental breakdown; rather, it was a death that was deliberately guided and precisely stripped of something.

Evelyn came across an earlier paper that mentioned a psychology research project several times.

This project aims to explore the impact of "individual free will" on "collective social order," but its content is vague and full of metaphysical philosophical terms.

However, in all of Professor Finch's subsequent writings that she possessed, the project code name, along with those initial bold ethical explorations, seemed to have been completely erased, vanishing without a trace.

She picked up the encrypted communicator on the table and dialed Lin Zheng's number.

The sound of rain drowned out the faint echoes on the other end of the phone; she could almost hear her own heartbeat.

"This is not just theory... If my speculation is correct, we have stumbled upon a decades-long, murderous premonition."

Her gaze shifted to the window, where the rain curtain of Emerald Dream City connected with the gray sky, seemingly without end.

Late at night, Professor Finch's laboratory at Miskatonic University was bathed in cool blue and white light.

The vibrant daytime scene was replaced by silence, leaving only the low hum of various instruments and the occasional hiss of electricity.

Lin Zheng was asked to conduct a "reproducibility experiment." He sat alone in front of the experimental table, his body covered with a dense array of sensors.

The transparent glass room still exists, but Professor Finch is no longer inside.

Lin Zheng followed the instructions, placing his hands on the sensor panel, but his attention was mostly focused on observing every corner of the laboratory.

He needs to gain a deeper understanding of Finch's experimental procedures and find clues about Josh Vick.

He would occasionally tilt his head, his gaze sweeping over Mark Jensen.

The fit technician was adjusting a main control device not far away, his protective goggles flashing in the cold light.

He took a deep breath and once again added a faint noise to the data from the emotional stability test he was conducting.

At the same time, he activated [True Deconstruction], and his eyes began to see into the deep structure of things.

Deep inside the laboratory, the intricate structures inside several key sensors appeared strangely arranged in a ring pattern to his eyes.

It wasn't an ordinary circuit board, but rather something like some ancient rune, interlocking and shaped like an ouroboros devouring its own tail, shimmering with a faint red light in the silence.

The light was so faint, yet so real, unlike the light emitted by equipment indicator lights. It came from the structure itself and contained a profound, indescribable meaning.

He suppressed the turmoil within him and continued to maintain a calm facade.

He sensed that he was very close to the edge of the truth.

He walked on the cliff, the wind howling and darkness roaring from the abyss below.