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

The chaotic noise throughout the seminar hall was filtered into a low hum.

The agents' figures appeared exceptionally tall under the flickering emergency lights cast by the damaged lighting equipment.

They ignored the people lying on the ground groaning, completely disregarded the figures scattering and fleeing in the venue, and didn't even look up to search for the pipes.

The usual reactions that should have been triggered by the commotion created by Lin Zheng were all absent at this moment.

They formed an arrowhead-shaped tactical formation, their footsteps echoing the same rhythm, and advanced in unison toward Alistair Finch in the center of the podium.

Professor Finch, the source of all this chaos, stands alone in the center of the stage, surrounded by an invisible bubble of calm, completely out of place with the panic outside.

Every movement of the agents was filled with cold efficiency; their guns were raised but not fired, but the laser sights drew a scarlet dot on Finch's chest.

They were there to retrieve a lost, priceless experimental result, not to kill anyone.

Finch's almost manic declaration echoed in his mind: "'America,' a company masquerading as a nation..."

The agents issued low, brief instructions via communicators built into their helmets.

A slight vibration came from the metal pipe wall; it was the sound of the agents' synchronized footsteps below.

"Target location, Alistair Finch, Lin Zheng." A cold, mechanical voice entered Lin Zheng's receiver, making him gasp for breath.

"The recycling program has been activated to keep the 'assets' active," another voice added.

"The location of the 'asset' has been locked. We are preparing to carry out a forced recovery," the squad leader reported.

Lin Zheng's heart pounded violently in his chest, not from fear, but from an indescribable sense of astonishment.

He had thought that the chaos he had created would be enough to drive the company's agents crazy.

But he was wrong.

Faced with all the panic he caused, these agents were like specimens preserved in formaldehyde, showing no emotional fluctuation whatsoever.

They are considered "assets".

They wanted to retrieve Finch and Lin Zheng, not kill them on the spot.

This suggests that Finch possesses a certain "value" that even the "American Dream" company is unwilling to easily relinquish.

A conversation that didn't belong in the hall vaguely reached his ears; the voices were soft, yet carried an undeniable authority.

"Finch's research has entered an uncontrollable but extremely valuable phase."

Although the signal is weak, it carries a special encrypted frequency that can travel over long distances.

"Reclaim him, along with the 'abnormal sample' that caused all of this." The voice remained calm, but it concealed an extreme coldness.

Lin Zheng knew, of course, who the man was referring to as the "abnormal sample".

"I need to be alive." The man's tone was serious and resolute.

Immediately afterwards, another voice rang out.

A female voice, carrying the calmness and competence characteristic of a secret agent, spoke. Undoubtedly, she was also monitoring the scene in real time through some kind of remote command system.

She was clearly responding to the man's words.

"Understood." The woman's voice cut through the background noise, clear and decisive.

"However, high levels of mental pollution were detected at the scene, and the difficulty of recovery was assessed as 'extremely high'."

Recycle, not erase.

He realized that the company's attitude toward Finch was very likely a reflection of how the company would treat him.

He is not a criminal being hunted, but a sample being evaluated for "value".

If he is recycled by the company, will he also become a "sample" in some laboratory, waiting to be analyzed and have his "value" extracted?

He is not a person; he is a "resource" that can be utilized, an "asset" that can be recycled. He is merely a replaceable part in Finch's eyes, a "living" sample in the company's eyes.

The agents' tactical formation had formed a semicircle, completely surrounding Professor Finch.

The gun barrels were all pointed at him, their black surfaces cold and sharp, the metallic texture standing out sharply against the chaotic background.

But Finch showed no sign of panic.

He remained standing in the center of the podium, arms outstretched, like a missionary embracing the world.

His face did not show the fear Lin Zheng had expected, but rather a smile that was almost ecstatic.

His smile was a mixture of morbid satisfaction and a long-suppressed release.

He stared intently at the agents surrounding him, his gaze deep and penetrating, as if he could see through the disguises behind their helmets.

Finch's voice, amplified through the loudspeakers, resonated clearly throughout the hall.

"Recycle?"

Finch's voice was drawn out and full of mockery.

"Do you think what I created can be put back in a cage?"

He opened his arms, tilted his head back, and embraced something intangible, a sublime quality that Lin Zheng could not discern and that transcended human understanding.

Inside the hall, the panicked crowd had retreated to the edge, where the temporary defensive line set up by the company's agents held them firmly in place.

All the noise froze for a moment because of Professor Finch's dismissive question.

Ecstasy and anger, morbid satisfaction and extreme contempt, intertwined on Finch's face, creating a bizarre beauty.

That maniacal laughter, the emotions suppressed for many years, burst forth at this moment, echoing in the empty hall, carrying a chilling exhilaration.

An ominous premonition sent chills down his spine.

Finch's gaze swept over the agents, over the controlled guests, and finally landed on the backstage control room, on the direction where Lin Zheng was hiding.

He laughed again, his lips parting in an exaggerated arc, and deep in his eyes was an indescribable madness and cruelty.

"Now, it's time for you to rest," Finch whispered, his voice hoarse, yet each word clearly reaching everyone's ears.

With a gentle press of his right thumb, a miniature remote control hidden in the cuff of his suit jacket was activated.

A very faint "click" was amplified infinitely by the deathly silence in the hall.

Lin Zheng held his breath, sensing that the spiritual energy field around Finch was expanding at an alarming rate.

Immediately afterwards, the alarms were no longer heard from any of the loudspeakers.

Instead, a bizarre, twisted lullaby, seemingly from hell, was played.

The melody wasn't complicated, but it was filled with suffocating chaos and dissonance; it was a nursery rhyme hummed by a madman, and the soft weeping of countless ghosts.

That was not a sound that humans could produce; it was impacting Lin Zheng's eardrums directly with a distorted physical law, and even penetrating deep into his bone marrow.

The metal of the ventilation ducts hummed under the vibrations of the lullaby.

Lin Zheng instinctively covered his ears, but the sound seemed to resonate directly in his mind, repeating the altered melody over and over again.

But Professor Finch held an invisible baton, and the "lullaby" was played under his hand.

The company agents froze in place, their movements halted.

They remained in the aiming position with their guns, their bodies stiff and rigid, like robots that had suddenly lost all their power source.

Their gazes were fixed, like sculptures, yet they possessed a living, interrupted eeriness.

A powerful mental impact spread silently from Finch's center.

Everyone was affected.

Lin Zheng's brain was buzzing, white noise playing repeatedly in his mind as he tried his best to resist the sleepiness brought by the "lullaby".

In a daze, Lin Zheng saw that black, viscous liquid began to flow from the agents' seven orifices. It didn't look like blood; it looked more like a contaminated spiritual substance.

Their bodies were stiff, but their eyes rolled upwards in a strange way, revealing mostly white and a little black in their pupils, which reflected a flickering red light.

They were still alive, but their reason was instantly wiped away.

This is different from the effect of Lin Zheng activating [Residual Dream Reading]; it does not use the illusion of pain and despair to attack others through mental shock.

Instead, it's like a lullaby that infects others, making them lose their sanity and want to fall asleep.

They smiled and peacefully passed away in eternal bliss to the sound of a lullaby.