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

A new week begins.

The air in the Emerald Dream City Police Department's medical examiner's office remained unchanged.

The smell of formaldehyde became the background noise of the sense of smell, mixing with disinfectant, metal, a faint smell of blood, and the stale smell emanating from the morgue, creating a unique cocktail that forcibly stirs life and death together.

Lin Zheng could no longer smell it.

Just like someone who has worked in a slaughterhouse for a long time can no longer smell blood.

His desk was in the corner, with only an old desktop computer, an open "Atlas of Forensic Pathology", and a mug containing instant coffee powder.

Everything was so neat and tidy that it felt lifeless.

"Forest."

A voice came from the other end of the office.

His senior brother, Ryan Burt, was calling him.

He had an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth, a habit he maintained ever since the indoor smoking ban was implemented.

"There's a job."

East District, apartment building.

Get ready, I'm coming to the scene with you.

Ryan spoke in a flat tone, saying that informing someone of a death was no different from a carpenter instructing his apprentice to fetch a piece of wood.

Lin Zheng nodded without saying a word.

He closed the book, got up, and took out an investigation kit and a body bag from the locker.

The apartment buildings in the eastern district exude an aura of poverty.

The damp, musty smell, the chemical fragrance of cheap cleaning agents, and the sour stench emanating from piles of garbage in public passageways.

Outdated decor, dirty and messy hygiene, and bottles of liquor lying around.

Arthur Morgan sat behind these ruins.

His gray hair was messy, and the wrinkles on his face were so deep they could hold a cigarette.

He was staring at a glass of cheap whiskey in front of him, his tired face reflected in the amber liquid.

The door was pushed open.

A gust of wind blew in, stirring up the peaceful dust.

A young girl stood at the door, thin and haggard, like a malnourished bean sprout growing in a dark corner.

She was wearing a faded old T-shirt and jeans, clutching a crumpled roll of banknotes tightly in her hand.

"Are you... Detective Arthur Morgan?" Her voice was a little hoarse.

Arthur raised his eyelids, his gaze sweeping over her before finally settling on the roll of money in her hand.

The roll of money was soaked with sweat and carried a heat, not just the heat of body temperature.

"It depends," he answered vaguely, taking a sip of his wine. "If things get complicated, then I won't be one."

The girl was not deterred by his indifference.

She came in and placed the rolled-up money on the only relatively clean patch of ground on the table.

"Please...find my father, Murphy."

He wouldn't disappear without a reason.

Arthur didn't answer immediately; he listened to the city noise coming from outside the window—

The sounds of car horns, the roar of construction sites in the distance, and the indistinct voices of people talking.

get off.

"Inside," one of them pointed inside the door. "A prostitute said her baby died, so I thought I'd give you a call."

Ryan nodded and put on gloves and shoe covers.

Lin Zheng silently followed behind him, also putting on his protective gear.

The room was small; a bed took up two-thirds of the space.

The bedding was a garish pink and was already pilling.

Several revealing pieces of clothing were scattered around the bed.

A woman sat on a chair by the bed, wearing an ill-fitting nightgown, staring blankly at the faded poster on the wall.

She was young, but the weight of life had worn away all the vibrant expressions on her face, leaving only numbness.

On the bed lay a small child, wrapped in an old towel.

Ryan walked over, didn't touch her, just glanced at her, and then turned to the woman.

"When was it discovered?"

"This morning... the guests complained about the noise, so I... I gave them some sleeping pills..." The woman's voice was like a rusty gear turning. "I always do this... but today, I don't know what happened, I... I just couldn't wake up."

He walked over and gently probed the carotid artery with his gloved fingers.

There was no pulse.

It was cold, and there was already mild rigor mortis.

Ryan hummed in agreement and continued asking the woman, "What's your name? How old are your children?"

Cindy.

He...he's only eight months old.

Ryan made notes in his notebook.

Lin Zheng opened the body bag, preparing to put the small body inside.

Just as he bent down, the woman named Cindy suddenly spoke.

Her gaze shifted from the wall and focused for the first time on something—the black body bag in Lin Zheng's hand.

"Sir," she asked, her voice devoid of any sadness, "is my child... worth anything?"

Lin Zheng stopped moving.

He looked up at the earnestly questioning face.

The air froze for a few seconds.

Ryan frowned, as if he wanted to say something.

Lin Zheng felt as if something had stabbed his heart.

He wanted to say, "Yes, it's very valuable."

A healthy young animal can be worth far more than your annual income in certain hidden markets.

Its organs, tissues, and even bone marrow are expensive commodities.

But he didn't say anything.

He simply placed the small body into the body bag silently and zipped it up.

Then, he stood up, took his wallet out of his pocket, pulled out all the cash inside, and placed it on the table in front of Cindy.

He didn't explain anything.

Having done all this, he picked up the body bag and said to Ryan, "All done."

She sells, and they buy; that's business, that's a transaction.

This is everyday life.

Just then, Ryan's walkie-talkie crackled to life. "Team Leader Bert, there's an emergency under the Seventh Avenue overpass. Several homeless people are fighting, and a newborn is involved. It's urgent."

Ryan's face darkened. "Damn it," he cursed, "this son of a bitch city." He glanced at Lin Zheng, then at the body bag in the back seat. "Lin, you handle it. Just bring the 'thing' back."

Lin Zheng nodded. "Okay." He opened the car door.

The midday sun hung overhead, pouring down its heat and blinding rays without reservation. Twisted air rose from the asphalt road, making the whole city seem unreal.

Arthur stared at the roll of money next to the spot of light, then looked at the girl in front of him.

"My name is Selena."

"What does your father do?" Arthur asked.

"Construction worker."

I work at a construction site in the port area.

He is very honest and never causes trouble. He goes home every day after get off work.

"He said he was going to work overtime at the construction site last Wednesday, and he hasn't come back since." Selena spoke quickly, reciting a fact she had repeated countless times.

"Did you call the police?"

"I've reported it."

Police said that adults who go missing must wait for 48 hours.

Forty-eight hours later, they said he might have just drunk too much, or run off with another woman.

"They don't care at all." Her voice was filled with a deep sense of helplessness.

"Why did you choose me?" Arthur leaned back in his chair. "I charge a lot of money, and I don't have a good reputation."

"I asked a lot of people."

They said that if you're still willing to take jobs, you'll definitely find the truth. Selena's eyes glistened with tears. "And... I have nowhere else to go."

Arthur fell silent.

He picked up his glass and downed the rest of the whiskey in one gulp.

The spicy liquid burned his throat, but could not warm his cold stomach.

He was reminded of himself many years ago.

And so it was, that he ended up battered and bruised over a neglected case.

"I don't have enough money," he said.

Selena's eyes dimmed.

"But you can pay me back now." Arthur swept the rolled-up bill into the drawer with a clatter. "Your father's name is Murphy? What's his full name?"

"Murphy Callahan".

He pulled a blank letter of authorization and a pen from under a pile of messy documents and pushed them in front of Selena.

Write down everything you know about him.

The more detailed the better.

His friends, his enemies, his habits, anything that was abnormal.

Selena's eyes rekindled with hope, and with trembling hands, she took the pen.

She wrote the first word on the paper, facing the sunlight.

Sunlight does not reach the bottom of the overpass on Seventh Avenue.

This is a separate kingdom made up of cardboard boxes, dilapidated tents, and garbage dumps.

The air was thick with the stench of urine, fermenting alcohol, and rotting food.

The lights of police cars and ambulances flashed wildly under the bridge, casting flickering light on the distorted, crazed, and numb faces.

Several police officers were struggling to separate two homeless men who were fighting.

They were covered in filth and blood, and they were howling like wild beasts.

On the ground between them lay a woman who had just given birth.

She was naked from the waist down, her legs were a mess, but her face had a strange, satisfied flush.

She reached out her hand to a tall homeless man next to her.

The homeless man was holding a syringe in his hand.

On the other side, something wrapped in rags was wriggling on the ground, emitting a faint, cat-like cry.

When Lin Zheng arrived, this was the hellish scene he saw.

A patrol officer in charge of the scene looked at Lin Zheng's badge with disgust: "That woman is a drug addict. She's about to give birth and is still loitering around here. This group of people are just waiting for her to give birth, trying to snatch the newborn. It's said that babies born with addictions can fetch a good price on the black market. The woman doesn't care; her condition is that whoever gives her an injection of 'enhancing drugs' will get the child."

Lin Zheng's gaze swept past the crowd and landed on the tattered cloth that was barely moving. He ignored the fighting beasts and the mother with the dazed look in her eyes, and walked straight over.

He crouched down and carefully picked up the tiny life wrapped in rags, still crying weakly.

The newborn baby had bluish skin and its body was convulsing due to withdrawal symptoms.

The woman on the ground, the mother, didn't look at her child even once from beginning to end.

Her eyes remained fixed on the syringe.

It was as if those were her real flesh and blood.

The siren of the ambulance blared sharply, then gradually faded into the distance, eventually merging into the eternal background noise of the city.

In Arthur Morgan's office, Selena had already filled two whole pages with writing.

She wrote down everything about her father, Murphy.

He likes to have a bottle of rye beer after get off work, but he never drinks too much.

He goes to the community church every Sunday, though he is not devout.

His only hobby was doing some rough carpentry work.

He had a coworker named Jack, and the two were best friends.

He had a grudge against a foreman named Barnes because Barnes withheld his wages.

These are fragments of an ordinary blue-collar worker's life—ordinary, mundane, with no clues that could lead to his disappearance.

Arthur read it carefully, not missing a single word.

His fingers tapped lightly on the table, making a rhythmic tapping sound.

"Has anything strange happened at the construction site lately?" he asked.

Selena thought for a moment and shook her head: "He didn't mention it."

"Alright, you can go back now."

I will contact you if I have any news.

During this time, do not tell anyone that you came to see me.

Selena stood up and bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan."

"Don't thank me," Arthur said. "I'm just doing this for the money."

After Selena left, the agency returned to silence.

Arthur did not move.

He stared at the name "Murphy Callahan" on the letter of commission, lost in thought.

When Lin Zheng returned to his office, it was already dark. He had just finished his last report. Sitting across from him at his desk was a middle-aged man in a suit and tie, with a nameplate of a well-known pharmaceutical company pinned to his chest.

"Mr. Lin, you've had a long day." The middle-aged man adjusted his glasses, his smile professional yet distant. "I've already seen the preliminary processing reports for both samples; they're very detailed."

Lin Zheng put down his pen and rubbed his throbbing temples. "Dr. Chen, I don't understand." His voice was low. "Two people, one healthy, one addicted to drugs. How would you use them?"

Upon hearing this, Dr. Chen suppressed his smile, adjusted his glasses, and his gaze became calm and professional.

"Mr. Lin, our research requires rigorous data support, so we will use them differently."

He picked up a document and began to fill it out.

"The first healthy baby we received today, who died from medication given by his mother, is a perfect 'control group.' His tissues and organs were not contaminated with toxins, and he can be used for basic toxicology testing of drugs and assessment of organ transplant potential. You know how scarce healthy living tissue is in the biomedical field."

Lin Zheng took a deep breath, his fingertips unconsciously digging into the table. "What about... the one with drug addiction?"

"That one is more valuable for research. It will serve as the core sample for our long-term project, 'The Effects of Drugs on Fetal Development'."

The other person stroked his chin, thought for a moment, and smiled at Lin Zheng.

"We will conduct a complete neurological autopsy to study in detail the irreversible damage that drugs cause to the development of the young brain. Forensic pathologist Lin, this kind of 'natural sample' is extremely rare, which can save us several years of animal experiments and complex model construction, greatly accelerating the research process."

Lin Zheng felt a chill run from his feet to his head. He stared at Dr. Chen with a complicated expression. "I heard you have a... more 'humane' way of handling this?"

Dr. Chen adjusted his glasses.

"You mean 'non-interventional death'? Yes, to avoid legal disputes and government fines, we usually use this method on living drug addicts."

After he finished speaking, he paused and handed the filled-out form to Lin Zheng.

"At the same time, we won't waste it. We'll put it in a specially made incubator equipped with sophisticated sensors. Because the needs of congenital drug addiction cannot be met, it will exhibit a more intense manic reaction than normal, constantly crying, hitting and scratching everything around it. This process usually lasts for ten to twenty hours until its physiological limits are reached, and it will eventually die from cardiopulmonary failure."

Lin Zheng's hand trembled slightly as he signed the document, but the other party hadn't finished speaking yet.

"During this period, all vital signs, including heart rate, respiration, body temperature, and electromyography, will be fully recorded by sensors. This is the only way to obtain the most authentic and direct data on drug withdrawal symptoms."

After Dr. Chen finished speaking, the office fell into a deathly silence.

The other person seemed to realize that this might be very impactful, and added, "This data can be used to treat children who are born with drug addictions, helping them to have a better future."

A soft exhale brought the office back to life.

Outside the window, the neon lights of Emerald Dream City began to flicker, outlining the city's bustling yet artificial contours.

Lin Zheng looked at the two newly completed death reports on the screen.

Report A: Eight-month-old male, died of drug poisoning.

Report B: Male, less than three hours old, died of multiple organ failure.

Cold, objective, professional terms.

He suddenly realized that he wasn't dealing with two corpses today.

Instead, they are a perfect, complementary, and high-quality pair of industrial raw materials.

He turned off the computer and stood up.

"I’m off duty."

"Get some rest," Ryan said.

Lin Zheng walked out of the police station.

The cold wind was blowing on his face, but he couldn't feel it.

He was walking home, surrounded by a crowd of people hurrying by.

They were laughing, talking, and working hard to make a living.

No one knows that today, two tiny lives were sacrificed: one became the price her mother paid for a moment of peace, and the other became the commodity her mother used to obtain a dose of drugs.

And their ultimate destination is a string of data in the laboratory.

Lin Zheng raised his head and looked at the waning moon in the night sky.

He thought that this country was also a huge, cold laboratory.

All of them were merely samples in some kind of experiment.