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

The huge high-definition screen in the center of the hall is still playing the faces of the victims, intertwined with data and distorted symbols.

The sirens blared, and the red warning lights flashed wildly, illuminating the distorted faces as if they were demons from hell.

Chaos spread through the venue like a virus, with panicked crowds pushing, trampling, and screams tearing through the air.

Lin Zheng, the mastermind behind all of this, is currently standing in the shadows of the backstage control room.

His fingertips remained on the keyboard, a faint current coursing through his fingerprints.

Professor Finch remained on the other side of the glass, not joining the frantic escape.

There was no fear on his face. He stood straight in the center of the podium with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Slap slap—slap slap—"

Finch's voice came through the listening equipment clearly, sounding unusually calm amidst this apocalyptic scene.

applause.

It wasn't for the audience; it was for Alistair Fincher himself.

He clapped gracefully, a cold, inquisitive glint in his eyes.

"Lin, you still did it."

Finch slowly walked toward the screen in the center of the hall, which had become a huge malfunction.

His fingers lightly touched Josh Vic's pale, empty face on the screen.

"I once considered you to be my most suitable 'successor'."

Finch's tone carried a hint of regret, a touch of helplessness that comes with a scholar facing an experiment that has deviated from its expected trajectory.

"After all, there are very few people like you who can launch a counterattack after enduring a mental shock."

Lin Zheng knew that Professor Finch was referring to his previous breakthrough of Professor Finch's resonance coordinator and mental defense system.

His gaze pierced through the glass and landed directly on Lin Zheng in the control room.

There was no blame in those eyes, only curiosity.

"Unfortunately, you still chose to be an 'experiment'."

Lin Zheng did not respond.

It turns out that Finch had designed himself into his experiment from the very beginning.

He saw in Finch's eyes not the ripples of anger, but the satisfaction that seemed to come from verifying a hypothesis.

"You think you've revealed the truth?"

Finch asked softly, his voice carrying the tolerance of a teacher towards a bewildered student.

The chaos in the hall came to an abrupt halt within a three-foot radius around Finch, as if an invisible barrier had isolated him from the outside noise.

He stood unmoved in the center of that chaos.

"What you're showing us is nothing more than the scraps from the daily operations of the behemoth, 'American Dream' Corporation."

Finch waved his hand, shooing away the mosquitoes that were already commonplace around him.

"'America' is a company disguised as a nation, a massive system driven by unspeakable 'contracts' and fueled by the spiritual energy of its people."

"Its operating logic is not determined by any 'person' or any 'board of directors'."

"Not Theodore Sterling, not his family, not even the Deep Sleepers behind him."

Finch shook his head, a hint of mockery on his face.

"No, those are just the company's 'senior operations managers,' part of this sophisticated machine, maintaining the surface stability of the 'dream'."

"But they don't understand that what drives this company is a more primal, purer 'need'."

Finch's eyes pierced through the physical barrier and seemed to see Lin Zheng.

"A 'demand' that is not satisfied with inefficient exploitation."

"Those people called 'nightmare fuel' have such unstable emotions that the energy they produce is fragmented, highly polluting, and extremely inefficient."

"Dream architect? Deep sleeper? Sleepwalker? These labels are nothing more than internal hierarchical classifications set up by this company for 'easy management' purposes."

"No one is safe in this company, including me and you."

This is not the wild talk of some ambitious person, but a reference to the terrifying logic rooted in the very foundation of how this world works.

Finch's tone gradually took on a fanatical quality; he was preaching a completely new gospel.

Even the top-ranking "deep sleepers" sacrifice their time, their bloodline, and all their "possibilities" in exchange for a brief period of "awakeness" and a false sense of "power."

"As a 'dream builder,' in order to maintain this ability to 'create value,' and to avoid being abandoned at any time or arbitrarily 'optimized' by higher-ups, I can only run desperately, even to the point of exhausting my rationality."

"And once we are unable to 'create value,' no matter what position we hold, once the company determines that we are 'a liability,' we will be ruthlessly 'killed' and become high-level 'nightmare fuel.'"

He spread his hands, looking at the crowd scattering and fleeing in all directions, at this group of lost sheep.

"What you see is that this company called 'America' has been doing all along is reshaping all the 'inefficient,' 'unconverted,' and 'scattered' emotions into the energy it needs."

"But this kind of efficiency is too slow and too passive."

Finch's voice grew lower and lower, yet it took on a chilling solemnity.

"We possess the 'Wide-Area Spirit Imprinting' technology, and all media and broadcasting serve as its medium. Lin, this is a true key."

"You think I'm purifying those 'nightmare fuels'?"

Finch's lips curled into a smile.

"No, my 'Utopia Project' is to carry out a complete 'restructuring' of this company that is disguised as a country."

"A 'spiritual baptism' covering the entire country and even a wider area."

"It's no longer a piecemeal 'individual optimization,' but a comprehensive 'system upgrade.'"

"Let all those labeled 'sleepwalkers,' 'dream architects,' and even 'deep sleepers' be reset to zero."

"Their emotions, memories, and reason—all the information that is conducive to 'efficient transformation'—will be fully realized in my 'purification'."

"At that time, their 'advanced emotions' and 'complex rationality' will provide energy in both 'quality' and 'quantity' far exceeding that of ordinary 'nightmare fuel'!"

"This is true 'equality for all beings,' Lin. Not being harvested, but being 'reshaped.'"

What Finch said was not simply evil, but a pure and extreme theory of efficiency and desire for control that transcends good and evil.

Finch's gaze deepened, as if it could pierce through time.

"Then, when everything returns to chaos, I will guide this power as the master of technology and the 'interpreter of the oracle'."

"A brand new 'ideal state' will be rebuilt in my hands."

He pointed a finger at Lin Zheng, a smile that seemed to be one of pity on his face.

"And you, Lin, your abilities, your unique mental structure, are what you perceive as tools of resistance, but in my eyes, they are precisely the most perfect 'energy collector'."

"Whether you are sacrificed voluntarily or captured passively, you will be the brightest star in this 'system upgrade.' You could have become a 'god' in the new world after my death."

"But now, your pain and your clarity will become the foundation for me to reshape the world."

Finch's smile widened to its limit.

"Tools or gods, it's all up to you. Unfortunately, you have the qualifications to become a god, but you don't have the heart to do so."

His words made it clear that he regarded himself as a god.

Lin Zheng realized that everything he had previously revealed was merely the prelude to Finch's plan, a localized experiment to test market reaction and technological stability.

He himself, from the very beginning, was a chosen "sample," a pawn in this grand game.

The image of the "Ouroboros" symbol flashed into my mind—the symbol that constantly devours itself and is constantly reborn.

It needs to constantly create value, yet it also constantly consumes itself.

Everything must serve this purpose; anything or anyone that fails to do so is useless.

It is no longer the name of a symbol, but more like an endless cycle of fate, the ultimate law governing the world, which Finch twisted and attempted to control.

Lin Zheng suddenly turned his head, his gaze sweeping towards the only exit of the control room.

Outside the door, a dense and hurried sound of footsteps could be heard, mixed with orderly commands.

"Team Three, seal off all exits."

"Second team, clear the main road."

"Team One, target area, proceed with the arrest!"

This is neither a security guard nor a police officer.

This is the "451st Cleanup Team" of the "American Dream" company, a shadow force that exists solely for "stability" and serves only the "contract".

"Da, da, da..."

The sound of hurried footsteps grew closer and closer; the bells of death were tolling.

Outside the heavy metal door of the control room, even the seemingly indestructible iron wall could not block out the oppressive aura.

He heard someone outside the door communicating in a low voice over a walkie-talkie.

"Target location locked, precise down to this room."

"Cleanup plan in progress."

He held his breath and pressed himself against the cold wall.

Finch's words still echoed in my mind.

"The ideal state...reorganization...controlling chaos..."

He realized that Professor Finch's "recruitment" of him came much earlier and was more in-depth than he had imagined.

What Finch wanted was not simply to get rid of him, but to completely "incorporate" him into the construction of his "ideal state".

A burst of gunfire and warning shouts came from the direction of the hall.

A large number of company agents have stormed into the seminar hall.

Their cold weapons were not aimed at the fleeing guests, but directly at Professor Alistair Finch on the podium, who had fallen into madness but still maintained a perfect smile.

The cleanup team had more than one target.