evanna
The mandatory screening procedure was the next step of their glorified Project, and it left Tetrahmon noticeably emptier: they all said it was for the greater good. It was their decontamination stage. Those that went missing were branded as traitors, imperfections in the system.
The Government had turned brother against brother, with no respect for those who had died, given an unmarked, icy grave, or those they rendered to dust. They deserve no respect.
Julian tells me that's how they keep the peace.
The peace they keep is solidarity within the people: forced solidarity. So really- what sort of a peace are they keeping?
The only thing I've learned from all of this is how unbelievably stupid humans are. Thankfully, I remain untouched by the Government, as does most of the Red Hand. Our numbers are fewer, too, and although Bernard still roams the headquarters with that same confident gait, I can tell he's worried that whatever we have in store for Tetrahmon might not have the desired effect. Our biggest problem are the drones they've been sending out, manoeuvred by machines and not humans, and therefore faultless. Bernard still believes he'll be able to wring some information out of Vance, but I don't see the point. The man is lost and fears death too much.
Every day I find myself longing to go back to the place where I was created, fabricated, enhanced with chemicals, enhanced by a scientist with an unsteady hand. And for what? To protect the city? Keep their peace?
I was the first project. I, and all the others that didn't pull through. We were the first wave of protection, the first project for eternal stability in Tetrahmon. Half-machine, half-human: enough logic and programming to not deviate from the rules, and human enough to make a necessary shot, and to distinguish between friend and foe. I have done nothing but endanger the city and its populace ever since I stepped foot on the other side of their pathetic glass wall. And for that, I pride myself.
There is only one remarkable feature of interest when it comes to the project I was part of: it failed. It collapsed, it didn't work, the human trials were faulty and resulted in unnecessary deaths, and when it worked, it worked as I do: demented, twisted, alive for all the wrong reasons.
So perhaps we could leave Project Chrysalis and let it stretch out until in falls back on top of itself. We could watch it stream as a failure upon a failure upon a failure, and all would be good, the future would be bright for the Red Hand.
Or it could backfire, and our beloved Government will have created their formidable destruction.
But nobody would be scared, of course, because the Government plans everything: it plays as God. It chooses when people are born, it chooses when people die.
It chooses a false form of liberty where happiness and peace are the only things anyone needs to know in their entire lives, where freedom is a problem.
The newly-executed probably thought that they were doing Tetrahmon justice by dying and accepting their fate, no matter how much more time they might have liked.
"What're you thinking about?" Julian stands at the doorway, pistol in one hand. I look up just in time to see them brush their bangs back.
I sigh. "I'm thinking about how ridiculous this all is. How worried Bernard seems... for no real reason."
Their reaction is a soft chuckle and a few slow nods. "Yeah. This is all pretty ridiculous, hm- but come on. What's really preying on your mind?"
"It's just... the lab."
"The lab," they echo pointlessly.
"I'm not finished yet," I throw back, before standing up. For some reason, Julian takes this as their cue for entering the room, and I turn to face them again after pacing for a moment. "The lab where I was experimented on. I know where it is and I need to go back there."
"For what? To add to your photo album or something?" They joke.
I roll my eyes and wrap my scarf around my neck, stuffing my pistol into the waistband of my trousers before hiding it well enough with my thin grey overcoat. "I feel like we're missing something. Either way, I want answers to questions even i can't answer, and I also feel that the lab would be a good way to start. Are you coming or not?"
Julian snorts. "You're crazy," they mutter, and pick up their own handgun. "Let's go, then."
I grin. "Thank you."
"Hey- no killing anyone today, okay?"
▿
"Do you think they'll still have guards there?" Julian asks me as we tread through the streets, keeping our faces down, our hoods up, to avoid overexposure by security cameras.
"Of course," I mutter. "We'll be lucky if they haven't raided the place yet after I quite dramatically emerged from it," I add.
We slalom through various alleyways and streets, getting closer and closer to the Wall. Its transparency gives it a sense of beauty, beauty of the most pristine sort, but it's what lies beyond the Wall that thrills me. Julian, who I assume has been in the city ever since it was founded after the great storm, observes the scenery with with eyes and a trembling sort of demeanour. White snow meets a blue-grey sky at the fine lie visible on the horizon. It's the same, all around, but the snow is uneven, the lines aren't straight, the sky is a gradient and not one flat colour. It looks just as clean as Tetrahmon, but it's clear that this is the evil world the citizens of Tetrahmon are taught to fear.
Julian's expression isn't fear, however. It's astonishment, rather.
"Oi! What're you two doing?" A White Guard strolls over to us from his post on the corner of the street, his gloved hand on the military-grade weapon that hangs at his hip.
Julian, of course, feels the overwhelming need to answer to that. "Well, we we- uh-"
I sigh and turn to the guard. "We were just admiring the Wall," I assure him, my gaze now clearly raking over the glass structure. I look back at him, now smiling. "They have done a marvellous job of it, wouldn't you agree? It makes everything safe."
"Hm." He slowly lifts his hand from his weapon. "Yes. It shields us from the ugly, Ancient World. Now be on your way before you talk to someone less friendly."
I itch to put my fingers around his throat. I don't, though, but I stare at him as he turns on his heel and walks off. "Idiot," I mutter.
"Yeah."
"You too, you know," I say. "Right then, let's find a way to get over this thing."
▿
The memories flood me as we stand before the chained doors, the replacement four guardsmen unconscious at our feet, laying in pink snow. I remember holding Parrish- as I pressed the barrel of his own gun to his abdomen and fired once. Twice. A third time.
I can see his body in the snow, still oozing blood like an infected wound would ooze pus, I can see the terrified stare of Segway, the officer that didn't want to die. I spared him, but Tetrahmon didn't, because he knew too much.
It doesn't take me long to break the chains: they might be relatively thick, but my brain is better than whatever directional lock they've secured the chains with.
The white corridors stretch endlessly forwards on a slight decline, branching off here and there, the whole place still abuzz with the soft hum of electricity.
"You sure you want to do this?" Julian asks.
"Absolutely," I reply, pulling the gun from my waistband, and without any further hesitation, I begin my immersion of the place that had once offered me salvation.