The Children of Zegandaria by Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov (good fiction books to read .TXT) 📖

built impenetrable walls around yourself and no one and nothing can break them down. Your life is truly Hell!"

The prisoner evidently made some sour grimace. Then he muttered.

- I think they sent Crazy Ames. Only he is capable of such savagery. But if you ask me if he killed your comrade Shame, I think it was someone else. And frankly, I have no idea who it was.

Boss gasped. Clearly this one had learned his lesson well.

- "Then our conversation could be considered useless," he said. "That's all I wanted to know."

At that moment Boss went and looked at the prisoner closely. It was a most ordinary electronic dummy that had a hidden recorder operated by a relatively simplistic artificial intelligence. Certain thoughts surfaced in his own mind - clearly someone was one or maybe even two steps ahead, and that someone knew enough about himself to lead him right into the trap.

The detective hurried out, but then three prisoners with laser cutters burst into the cell. One of them slit the detective's throat before he could gag.

- "We had to stop him before he learned the name of the real killer - Eradio Dee Monk," said a voice in the darkness. "Now we have to fool the rest of the team. - It won't be that easy, but if we succeed, we should kill them too. But we can't do it here it would be too obvious. Did you get the detective to a safe place?"

There was the sound of a suit rattling. The detective had died in his attempt to learn the truth. And the truth was too ugly!

THE DOUBLE STANDARD

CHAPTER NINETY-THREE: THE DOUBLE STANDARD

 

- "We couldn't let some outsider hang around and just ask questions," muttered one of the chief's subordinates. "Even if he was a detective and so on. But here's something else!"

The prison was silent and had heard the groans of the others - they had no right to speak. Every last one of them were drowning men.

Death watched humbly as the people drowned each other to surface. There were even some here with several life sentences. The cruel executions of the past had been replaced with An endless solitude - so quiet and peaceful.

Inwardly, their souls were like those of people without material shells, and soon a new life awaited them. The lives of people who had conquered the fear of death and who awaited their physical end with dignity.

Few, much less the prison administration, would have realized what this was all about. Yes, they would have accepted it, but they would hardly have felt it as the nearly four thousand inhabitants of this hell. People with lives hanging in the balance and expectations dangling. People who belonged to no one, and most importantly ones that no one belonged to. They were trampled like reeds by their illusory worlds, not by their crimes. And the saddest part was that their path led nowhere. It was a dead end. And their souls would be forever stuck and tortured in both this world and the next.

Praise be to those who trusted in the Most High, but he too had turned his gaze away, realizing their miserable fate. A fate of drowning men and people that no one wanted.

Confessor Bonayas was the only one who cared for their souls and tried to ease their suffering. So many of them were overwhelmed with grief and sorrow, suffering and realizing their mistake, but for them there would be no redemption. They would simply perish here.

There was dampness and extreme filth on the walls. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts so as not to disturb the others. Their fighting spirit had to be maintained, or the suicide rate would skyrocket too sharply.

They'd already had a few cases like this that were unpleasant to say the least.

Bonayas was trying to talk to them about the Most High and share some of his experiences, but many of them didn't even want to listen to him. They knew they were doomed and would die in terrible agony sooner or a little later. They were here to stay with themselves for a while and realize their terrible mistake and guilt.

Bonayas wanted to do something meaningful, but that was unlikely to happen with so many unwilling to help him.

Father was not trying to make them hypocritical believers, but at least give them one last chance to express their anguish. If they wanted to, of course!

When five o'clock struck, he would make his little rounds throughout the prison, and usually there were no more than one or two who were sincerely willing to share something.

He listened to them intently and felt what was weighing on them. On one occasion a very, very old prisoner came to him, one of the first ones here even. The holy shepherd himself didn't know exactly what he was here for. For some strange reason he didn't want to look at his electronic file either.

The unfortunate man had lowered his eyes. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want anything!

He wanted to be alone!

The priest pulled up a chair and stared into his face. It was drunk and somewhat jaundiced.

- "What can I help you with, young man?," he asked him, somewhat protocol. "It seems to me that your ailments are different. But you may be sure that no one else will know your secret."

The prisoner looked him in the eye and said:

- I have been repeating mistakes for so long that I ought not to repeat. I do the same thing over and over again. Why?

- "Well, I think you just haven’t learned your lesson. Life is a strange teacher. Usually we learn anything but what we really need. And maybe the problem is somewhere inside of us," father coughed.

The room was too strange. There was no outside light coming in or anything. There was no other reason for anything. Father's very presence was mystical.

The prisoner was intent and seemed to be trying to say something, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth.

- My boy, there are so many like you in this prison. I am only one. A single old man trying to give you a little support. Now let me tell you my story. Not long ago I was like you, but something made me realize and the experience was imprinted deep in my soul. I have since decided that I am either going to start fresh or I am done.

The prisoner continued to wonder what to say. The father tried to get up:

- Think over my words. We may not have a second conversation. Everything will fall into place. Each one of us longs to feel something that will breathe a spark of life into him. My time passed long ago. Long, long ago. I simply have nothing more to say. Good night!

When the cell closed, the young man was left alone with himself. He saw the truth and the situation for what it was. No mask and no makeup.

Each of the inmates in this cell had his own problem. But not everyone had it in them to stand up and solve it.

THE TRANSFER

CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR: THE TRANSFER

 

The conspirators felt they must deal with the open provocation an hour sooner. It was not going to be easy. The operational part had too many subtleties and they had to be careful not to get caught. This time it was extremely strange, because if they failed, perhaps almost the entire political order of the polis could collapse and their heads would be on the chopping block.

Alzengar hurried to dial the secret codes and asked for reconfirmation of his own technical checks. The artificial intelligence of the zomboroid security system embedded in the level five virtual reality returned the following code to him:

 

GFXFGOP *t5 r-432-#

2^6-u7i90

<R> @ ********

 

This was apparently an error signal, and he tried to reconfirm his authentications. It became exactly the same. He made a third attempt. His face paled.

He called out to some of his colleagues. Roenberg and Durban looked on dumbfounded. Equius wasn't there because he was checking the final destination of the translation. The idea was to circulate the money among several virtual banks before the final and conclusive transfer was made. This would have blinded the eyes of the majority if tax audits did go ahead.

Equius had just had to deal with a specific system that was too new even for a corporation as advanced as his.

In time, the thing would be wiped from the perishable memory of his enemies, and in the end he hoped to emerge victorious with a clear conscience and without caring much.

Something utterly embarrassing was exactly what was happening now. In time they would learn to cope somehow, but it was unlikely anything would change much right now.

Equius was planning an actual restructuring of their company and a fake merger and then they'd just blow all the money. Alzengar just wanted to sink into the ground, but he got a grip on himself and started sort of machine-like, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in his head.

The banker finished with his task and began to spin like a madman, anxious lest something should go wrong at the last moment. But everything seemed normal.

Then he went into the next room where they were.

The viciousness of this system was so murderous. He didn't want to be a part of this status quo, but he was forced, and extremely forced, to turn a blind eye - at least for a little while longer.

He knew by the mortified looks on their faces that the end was near and it was only a matter of time before whatever was meant to be would happen.

Then, suddenly, the following message appeared on the screen:

 

%3467305t23

@*/^&?

 

The transfer was made. All three wondered what had caused the delay. But that seemed to go by the wayside. Equius was no fool, and realized that there were no accidents in this world. But at least now he was glad that something positive had happened.

Then somewhere ahead of them a special reconfirmation terminal opened. They pulled out their narenzianan reidentification chips. After going through that procedure as well, all three of them breathed a sigh of relief.

- "I've never had a transfer like this," Alzengar muttered as if he'd been beaten over the head with massive slabs of kevlarite. "I'm feeling an extreme brain strain."

Equius thought about it and decided to see if the money was really moving as he expected.

This was very important because he suspected someone's