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

The back-end control room, like a forgotten organ, lies hidden beneath the gleaming skin of the Miskatonic University academic conference hall.

Lin Zheng sat in the only swivel chair, with his back to the door and facing the main control panel made up of six monitors.

On the other side of the glass is another world.

A huge crystal chandelier cast a soft glow on every meticulously groomed face, the expensive suit fabrics reflected a restrained sheen, the air was filled with the scent of woody and citrusy perfumes, and the hushed conversations were a chord of wealth and power.

On the main display screen, Professor Alistair Finch stood in the center of the podium, like a symphony conductor, manipulating the emotions of the entire hall with elegant gestures and a magnetic voice.

"What we're talking about isn't charity, but empowerment."

Finch's voice came through the monitor speakers in front of Lin Zheng, clear, gentle, and without any impurities.

The core of the Hope Foundation is to rebuild the psychological resilience of the most vulnerable groups in society and help them rediscover their self-worth through data-driven precision intervention.

A polite but enthusiastic round of applause erupted from the audience.

Those people, those powerful figures who control the finance, technology, and future of Emerald Dream City, have greed gleaming in their eyes; they are sharks that have smelled blood.

Lin Zheng's gaze did not linger on Finch, but instead focused on the scrolling real-time data stream at the bottom of the screen.

That was a report from the environmental sensors in the lobby: air humidity, carbon dioxide concentration, and average volume in decibels.

It also integrates Professor Finch's emotion sensor, displaying: emotion peaks, fluctuations, and magnitudes.

Everything is quantified, everything is under control.

To his right, on a slightly smaller screen, was a minimalist encrypted voice window.

On the other side of the window, there is a constantly changing glitch art head, a digital mask of the shadow, and a head of Arthur as a Western cowboy with a big pipe in his mouth.

[Vulnerability to firewall configuration intrusion].

[Audio and video lines are now connected.]

[Video signal source switching protocol has been injected].

There were no greetings between them, no encouragement before undertaking major tasks, only status reports.

"Evelyn and I will meet you outside the school. This is our last resort if things don't work out." Arthur's calm voice was always reassuring.

"I heard you've got a girlfriend at school. What, you've forgotten the old one for the new one? Only now do you remember your old buddy who fought alongside you?" Evelyn teased, trying to relieve Lin Zheng's pressure.

"Of course not. We are sworn brothers, partners who would entrust their lives to each other, and so is Emilia."

Lin Zheng's mind was momentarily immersed in memories.

His fingers hovered over the Enter key on the keyboard, and the skin on his fingertips could feel the fine scratches left on the plastic keycaps over the years.

His heartbeat was steady.

There was no fear, no hesitation, only focus.

Just like when he was assembling a Gundam, sewing a cold, severed arm together with a warm torso, he knew the depth of each stitch and the direction of each line.

"What we are building will be a completely new 'ideal state'."

Finch raised his voice and opened his arms as if embracing a great future.

"A society where there is no despair, only hope; where there is no decadence, only striving."

What we are doing is purifying the soul of this country!

Purification.

Lin Zheng's lips curled into an almost imperceptible smile.

He remembered the files in the hidden partition of that encrypted USB drive.

This term also appears frequently in the "Special Intervention Program" document.

When the test subject's "emotional data" falls below the "load threshold," meaning a complete breakdown, the solution recommends a "purification" process. This involves using a high-intensity mental shock to transform the data into the purest "energy" to achieve the highest "conversion efficiency."

To extinguish a person's soul completely in exchange for a beautiful peak on a data chart, a final, thorough extraction of value.

This is what Finch referred to as "purification".

[30 seconds left in the countdown].

The shadowy text popped up.

Lin Zheng's gaze pierced through the glass, taking one last look at the magnificent hall.

He saw a lady in the front row, wearing a string of full South Sea pearls around her neck, gently wiping the corner of her eye with a silk handkerchief, moved to tears by Finch's speech.

He saw a banker, head down, rapidly calculating something on a tablet, his expression a mixture of excitement and calculation.

He saw a pharmaceutical company executive clapping and cheering enthusiastically for Finch, saying that he could save humanity.

They are deceitful and hypocritical, using beautiful words to cover up their ugly faces.

They were all priests of this grand sacrificial ceremony, and guests who shared in the offerings.

Today, what Lin Zheng is going to do is to smash the rotten entrails of the sacrificial offering into the faces of each and every one of them.

Let them taste the original flavor of the large intestine, the flavor of what should be there.

【implement】.

Lin Zheng's fingertips fell.

The Enter key made a soft but clear "click" sound.

In the back-end control room, the sound was negligible, instantly swallowed up by the hum of the server cooling fans.

But for the whole world, this sound was the beginning of an avalanche.

In an instant, the huge high-definition screen in the center of the hall, which was playing Professor Finch's promotional PowerPoint presentation, went dark.

The speech was interrupted.

Finch's smile froze, then he regained his composure.

"Friends, this is just a technical glitch."

A slight commotion arose among the audience, who began to whisper among themselves.

Then, the screen lit up again.

There was no blueprint for an "ideal state," nor the logo of the "Hope Foundation."

There is only one face.

A victim's face, smeared with tears and saliva, his eyes staring blankly at the camera, his mouth opening and closing silently, whispering unspeakable horror.

The entire venue fell into a deathly silence.

Then, the scene changed.

Countless victims' faces flooded in, each a testament to a mental breakdown.

Some people huddled in the corner, their bodies trembling like leaves; some banged their heads against the wall, making dull thuds; some hysterically cursed and pleaded into the air.

These scenes have no background music, only the cold, glaring white light of a laboratory.

But that silent scream was more piercing than any other sound.

Chaos, beginning with the first horrified scream, spread like a virus throughout the hall.

The woman in the front row, wearing a pearl necklace, let out a short scream, covered her mouth, and her eyes were no longer filled with tears of emotion, but with pure fear.

The banker's tablet computer fell to the ground with a "thud," and the screen shattered.

"What is this?"

What is this thing?!

Someone stood up, their voice trembling with anger and fear.

"Turn it off immediately!"

security guard!

But the content on the screen continued to appear.

The cold text and data charts are superimposed on those painful images.

Josh Vick's face appeared on the big screen, and the pale, silent corpse stunned everyone present.

[Sample 73, Josh Vick, peak conversion efficiency: 92.7%]

[Sample 104 showed unexpected resistance in the 'load threshold' test. It is recommended to adjust the 'special intervention program', increase the intensity of subconscious stimulation, and perform the 'purification' process to collect residual value.]

Every line of text is a dagger, piercing through the gorgeous cloak of "empowerment" and "hope" woven by Finch, revealing the bloody truth beneath.

"Turn it off right now!" Finch roared angrily, this refined and perfect man finally losing his composure for the first time.

Hehe, even Lin Zheng wanted to laugh when he saw it.

The data on the screen began to flash rapidly at an eerie frequency. The distorted charts and the faces of the victims, mixed with incomprehensible geometric symbols, formed a frenzied digital collage.

This is not a simple disclosure of information.

This is a memetic weapon with mental impact, designed by Shadow after learning from Professor Finch's computer defense system and combining it with Lin Zheng's [Dream Remnant Reading] ability.

A form of cognitive pollution.

Through the glass, Lin Zheng saw the scene in the hall begin to become bizarre.

A man in the first row suddenly knelt down, clutching his head, and let out a wild howl.

Several guests began vomiting uncontrollably, making a mess of the expensive Persian carpet.

Many more people rushed toward the exit like headless flies, pushing, shoving, trampling, all elegance gone, leaving only the most primal instinct for survival.

The alarm blared shrilly throughout the venue, and the red warning lights flashed wildly, illuminating the terrified and distorted faces of the attendees as if they were demons from hell.

This funeral address, dedicated to the world, is now officially concluded.