City-21 “Kyiv”, UNSA Protectorate, Avril Dominion
Industrial Zone “NES Factory”
Maksim Chernykh’s team, August 12, 2049, 6:56 PM
With only four minutes left until the set hour, the unimog finally neared the drop-off point. Their journey had been predictably delayed by abandoned e-cars and the debris of recent skirmishes, necessitating frequent detours.
The sky was thick with Protectorate drones, increasing ominously by the minute – sometimes singly, sometimes in small squads. Once, a veritable “caravan” of over a thousand of various-sized drones had passed overhead.
To avoid drawing unnecessary attention, Maksim decided to retract his own flying scouts back into the truck.
Now, it was only three hundred meters to go before reaching the tunnel entrance. They lucked out with a dense traffic jam of abandoned vehicles, causing their unimog to crawl at just 10 kilometers per hour along the shoulder – perfect, given the absence of any living soul on the road. The conditions were ideal!
Max let out a quiet sigh of relief – the risk of stumbling upon curious bystanders or, worse, a Protectorate drone, had been their plan’s weakest link.
“Girls, be ready! Dasha, once you jump out, start the program on Nika’s command.”
“Roger that.”
“Yeah, Max, I’m on it!”
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The unplanned encounter with Alba and the team’s consequent exposure had forced Maksim and Dasha to rack their brain on how to program the autopilot. It wasn’t ungrounded paranoia. Well, of course, it was unlikely the Protectorate would chase down every renouncer, particularly amid the initial days’ chaos.
But what if the Spaniard turned them in just the next morning? The model of the truck was already pretty conspicuous, and considering its battered facade and windows wrapped in black film, finding it with cameras and satellites would be very easy.
So, they needed to outwit the Protectorate’s tracking efforts. Cameras were absent in the tunnel, and satellites wouldn’t catch sight during the passage. However, a stop there would look suspicious. Therefore, the plan: no stops, the truck had to keep moving.
So, when the vehicle enters the tunnel, Nika will sharply steer it into the bus bay and reduce the speed to almost zero, but without stopping completely. They will have to unload on the move and as quickly as possible. After that, the autopilot will take over. Its task is to accelerate, pass through the rest of the tunnel, and exit at normal speed, as if no maneuvers had taken place.
Certainly, it might later come to light that there is a covered passage from the highway to one of the black entrances to a rather dubious area. This means that, theoretically, the truck could have stopped here briefly.
So, Maksim decides to complicate things and confuse the Protectorate's sleuths even more! He and Dashka set up a whole series of intermediate stops, specifically choosing deserted places near the highway where there are no cameras. At each stop, the program will attempt to connect to the TACTA network via available mobile connections and upload a report from the vehicle's cameras and the drone left on the roof to a secure anonymous exchange, thus creating an additional illusion of network activity.
If fortune favored them, the unimog would make it to Cherkasy and send back photo and video reports on the journey and the city’s state. If not – well, they were prepared to face that risk.
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The team's actions were tightly synchronized, down to the second:
The truck swung into the tunnel and veered sharply into the bus bay, deploying the loading ramp as it did so.
Nika passed the control console to Dasha and leapt from the cabin, not waiting for it to stop. As the truck continued to decelerate, Redhead was already at the back, throwing open the doors. The trickiest task was the first – maneuvering the overloaded shopping cart from Mikea out of the cargo area. They manage it, though not without some mishaps, as a few boxes tumble down. Nika quickly shoves them aside to clear the path.
The scout drones exited, followed by Maksim in his wheelchair. Nikola is ready to back him up, but it turns out to be unnecessary. As they descended, Max turned on the CaTZ, leading it. On the ground, they quickly moved aside, clearing the path. The robotic platform is last, picking up the body of Alisa with its manipulator along the way.
“Dasha, let’s go!” Nikola swiftly shut the right door, leapt over the retracting ramp, and slammed the left door shut.
“Engaging autopilot!” Dasha responds briskly, jumping out of the cabin.
A short beep signals the start of the autopilot.
“Shit, the bag!” Dasha suddenly realized she’d left her university souvenir behind in the cabin and dashed back for it.
“Leave it!”
“No, I can make it!” Ignoring the advice, she snagged her prize, grazing her arm in the process, and yanked it towards her.
The door slams shut! The sensors indicate “closed,” and the Unimog suddenly lurches forward. Dasha, barely managing to snatch the “treasure,” falls to the ground, clutching the trophy tightly, miraculously avoiding hitting her head or getting run over by the wheels.
The truck sped back towards the tunnel, braking sharply at the last moment to continue its programmed path, maintaining its initial velocity.
Just as if it had never stopped.
“Damn, it hurt… Stupid, what was I thinking? I told myself I’d throw it out. Why bother risking it?”
“Wow, WonderStar, you never cease to amaze…” Max approached, offering a hand to help her up. “All good?”
“I’m scratched up badly... and hit pretty hard...” Vasilevskaya whimpered. “But I rescued the bag… yeah!”
“Max, here!” Nikola approached, having already detached the medical bag from the bot.
Dasha sat up, presenting her arm. Maksim quickly treated the deep scratch, sealed it with a bandage, and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“All right, we need to move – curfew’s almost upon us! And, let's try to go on without any more adventures.”
Just as Nikola said, the entire walking route to the gate had been covered under various shelters. First it was an above-ground street crossing, then an awning, and finally a broad canopy along the Factory’s fence. Quite the strategic path, indeed.
“The ‘public’ entrances are on the other side; this one’s purely for insiders. Well, and some ‘special’ clients who know the drill,” Nikola briefed as they neared. “But I warn you: expect a rough crowd – sure, they’ll let us through, but they might try to size us up, just out of habit. Typically, you’d book a ‘special entry’ in advance... but I’ve got a pass, so I’ll manage. Just be cool and don’t take any baits.”
They stopped before the nondescript metal gates, painted in chipping green. The only notable feature was a tiny camera peephole above. No bell, no sign.
Boom-boom-boom! Nikola, unabashed, pounded the door with her fist.
After a twenty-second delay, a gruff voice erupted from a concealed speaker:
“Private property. Fuck outta here!”
Boom-boom!
“Open up!” Red said calmly. “Got an invite for Zelman.”
The gates trembled and slid open, revealing a short corridor, blocked further down by more massive gates. Just then, city sirens wailed, adding drive to the situation and signaling the start of the curfew.
Immediately, two intimidating, burly men dressed in military garb labeled “Factory Security” appeared at the improvised “airlock.”
The first, a towering figure with a visible holster sticking out from under his jacket, his left sleeve cut off just under the shoulder, revealing a brutal cybernetic arm equipped with titanium claws and an integrated cutter. Snorting something, he moved forward and advanced towards Nikola.
He might fantasize about using such his “big paw” for brute force, like breaking doors, or tearing off hatches and heads – while Nikola only offered this “wonder of prosthetic engineering” a scornful, icy stare.
The second guard, posing a real threat, had his submachine gun HK UMP-NX casually slung over his shoulder, his right hand positioned suggestively above it, angling slightly towards the visitors – a significant hint of the underlying tension.
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“Wow, this is freakin’ serious,” Max thought, watching the spectacle unfold. “And it’s convincing, indeed. And a good point, it’s very likely that we can procure some good weaponry here. That’s something to note for the morning’s agenda, by the way…”
“Not so fast, sweetie.” the hulk clicked his cybernetic fingers, sparking them unconcernedly despite the wailing of the siren. “The doc and his crew cleared out earlier today! The ‘Lizard’ is closed. So, who are we here to impress, cutie pie?”
“Give me your wrist, Terminator, kurwa,” Nika said lazily without looking at him.
Taken aback by her blunt defiance, the man silently extended his prosthetic arm. Red laid her left hand over his.
“Convinced now?”
The man frowned, his eyes twitching awkwardly – cheap lenses, or maybe he’s just bad with AR/VR interfaces.
“Err... Shimon, they actually have an invite.”
The second guard made a dismissive gesture at the “Terminator”, reflecting his thoughts on the man’s intellect, but relaxed his grip on the submachine gun.
“Alright, now we’re talking!” the mountain with the prosthetic arm mumbled. “How many of yours? Y’all can pass. But hold on, sweetheart, will this even let you in?”
“Fuck no, I’ll just stay out here in the doorway,” Redhead snapped back, clearly fed up with the farce. “Just open up! We’re only here to pick up some stuff!”
“Yes-yes, of course, come right through, welcome!” The giant managed a grin. As the inner gate of the “airlock” began to open, he raised his clawed prosthetic to eye level, showing it to Nika.
“See this beauty? The doc fitted it for me! Fuckin’ good guy… God bless him.”
She just sighed and silently messaged in the chat,
[Max, Dasha, follow me. It’s gonna be calmer inside. It’s kind of a maze though, but I know where to go.]
As the team, along with their stuff, moved forward, the second guard suddenly grabbed Nikola’s shoulder, whispering,
“Look, redhead, since you’re in the loop, you know where to look. Update the info in the morning. Stay on the cots at the Doc’s and keep it down. We don’t need any trouble during curfew, even if you’re just here to ‘pick up some stuff,’” he smirked, eyeing the iron-laden platform and Max in his wheelchair. “We won’t let you out of the building till morning anyway. Bars and brothels won’t be operational these first few nights. Avoid using mobile connections to extranets, though we jam them here anyway. Also, patrol drones fly over us regularly. The last squadron passed six minutes ago. You didn’t leave your transport nearby, did you?”
“No. We bailed through the tunnel, and the vehicle headed south.”
“No to spoko (Polish: Well, alright). They keep a tight watch around here, you see. If you plan to leave in the morning, arrange it in advance. Got access to the Factory local network?”
“Tak. Dzięki za radę (Polish: Yes. Thanks for the advice).” Nika nodded, and they passed through the gates into the compound. Dasha, following behind the platform, remained quiet, increasingly feeling like an outsider in a world of strange actions, customs, and social interactions.
[Are you navigating by the map with geotags?] Maksim asked soundlessly.
[No, by memory. I know where the clinic is.]
[Oh, got it. So, the “Lizard” is this place here, right?] Max dropped a pin in the chat labeled “Lizard Tail: Emergency Biomechanics Repair.”
[Yep, that’s the one.]
[Great. Girls, I downloaded some local ads earlier. Here, take a look at what else is around,] the guy shared an interactive map in the conference.
They continued down a corridor past a series of closed facilities, then turned left through a “staff only” door and entered the bustling world of “the Factory.” The large compound of numerous connected buildings was filled with a variety of commercial and manufacturing outlets, ranging from tiny stalls to massive multi-level complexes.
image [https://i.imgur.com/ybLKbGZ.jpg]
The area was unusually quiet now. Its residents who had chosen to stay overnight were really bracing for curfew. Each entrance, despite the lively signs, resembled a fortress ready for siege. All windows were already barred, and doors made of sturdy materials were locked. Yet, the signs continued to beckon invitingly.
Max chuckled at the disparity between the gritty reality before him and the glossy advertisements on the darknet map geotags.
For instance, a modest sign on the left proclaimed “Education Center ‘Erudite’. Express education for all!”. While the darknet stipulated, “Wide selection of fresh unlocked libraries for your sub-brain! Download for free! Don't pay for education – know everything instantly!”
“Typical,” Max thought, recalling the hapless students who had bought into these information dumps, unable to even navigate databases effectively, much less utilize the information. Many flunked out, unable to differentiate between a cardan and cardamon.
To the right, the delicious aroma of grilling meat wafted from “Nostalgia Steakhouse”. Its darknet tag revealed the theme, “100% real beef, mooing till yesterday! No gene farms, no substitutes! EXPENSIVE. TASTY. MANLY.”
“How barbaric!” Dasha hissed over her shoulder.
“Oh, come on,” Max retorted, “why so rigorous? Check it out, there are plenty of places that sell your vaping stuff here.”
“Exactly!” Nika perked up. “It’s bound to be three times cheaper than the university dealers. They definitely stock up here! Actually, I don’t mind getting a vape myself.”
They passed more vendors offering “perfect replicas, indistinguishable from the original”. Thanks to the plummeting prices of industrial 3D printers and robotic assembly systems, as well as quite accessible pirate software, even large corporations struggled to protect their patented products from high-quality counterfeits. And the number of such “fast-make” stores grew exponentially.
Max’s attention was caught by a newly updated extranet shop tag, “We’ll deliver any goods and equipment from the TACTA catalogs to our site! Citizenship doesn’t matter!”
“Girls, see this?”
“Yeah, business is business.” Nika said. “These guys adapt to any situation... Pretty prompt, if it’s true. It's like we haven't even had a chance to think it over, and they're already making offers. Although, I suspect they're just setting things up in advance for the future.”
“I’m sure we’ll be alright without any middlemen,” Maksim agreed.
Finally, they found their destination, the Lizard Tail Medical Center. On its sign was quaintly depicted a cute but sad Lizard holding its detached tail, while an equally cute, cheerful Doctor threaded a needle. “Emergency biomechanics repair and restoration of any kind, fair prices, warranty!”
“Here we are. Just hope Zelman didn’t screw up the access systems.” Nika said as she punched in a lengthy code. The detectors clicked off and the heavy iron doors swung open.
“Zapraszam Państwa, I mean, welcome to the clinic for fugitive cyborgs!” Redhead declared contently, with a flourish inviting gesture.
Inside, however, there was nothing illicit – just a small waiting room with a sofa, battered stands displaying cyber-prostheses “cheap as fuck”, a couple of workshops with basic tools, a small storeroom with bare shelves and empty containers, and footprints with other traces of hasty activities. And, most importantly, notably absent were any surgical bots or medical supplies.
“Nika, are you sure it’s the right address? You weren’t misled by any chance?”
“All cool, everything’s under control,” Nikola giggled. “Showtime in a sec!”
“Really? A show?”
“Yeah, Dr. Zelman is quite the joker. Just need to find an ophthalmoscope. The device for diagnosing eye and optical implants. Must be around… here… Why the hell does he keep putting it in different places?!”
“Could it be, you are looking for this?” Dasha asked, pointing at a tabletop instrument with eyepieces, originally hidden under an empty box.
“That’s it! Getting to work.” Nikola sat down on a chair in front of the device, brought her right eye to the eyepiece and froze.
Seconds passed in silence, before the device suddenly sprang to life and the screen glowed green.
# Access confirmed! You’re clear to head to the restroom! No smoking, please maintain cleanliness. And by the way, great implant lenses! Zelman wouldn’t fit you with anything less!”
“Ah, the doctor’s still got his humor!”
“Why the restroom, though?” Dasha asked puzzledly from behind.
Her question was answered by a toilet door automatically swinging open and lit up a green sign flashing “Restroom unoccupied.”
But inside, the restroom revealed to slightly taken aback Max and Daria far more than what it seemed – a cabin too large for ordinary use, featuring a modestly tucked-away toilet with handrails for patient convenience and a small sink.
Adjacent to it was a vast empty space about at least twenty square meters.
“Everyone, cut the shock and awe! This is just a cleverly disguised elevator. It’ll fit even the platform. Let’s start moving everything down; I think, two rides will be enough. You go first, guys.”
As they complied, a message appeared on a small screen above the door:
# After loading, press the flush pedal four times in a row. To return the cabin upstairs, press the hairdryer button – ten-second delay. As you see, nothing's changed :) If you need to activate the elevator from above again, repeat the verification process.
“Hmm… Yeah, it’s pretty simple,” Maksim chuckled. “Well, let’s take it for a spin, I guess…”
He entered the booth first, followed by Dasha with a Mikea shopping trolley and Big One.
“Go ahead, Dashka! Flush it all to hell!” Nikola called out with a grin. “Attention! One, two, three, flush!”
A click sounded as the double doors locked, and the floor gently descended. The descent was brief; soon, a green light signaled their arrival.
[Nikola to Voyager! Do you copy? Over.]
[Loud and clear, Nikola. Over,] Maksim replied, looking around. [Come down, let’s see what we’ve landed!]
Moments later, the door reopened, and Redhead stepped out along with the platform.
The basement level, clearly the main operational area, was impressively expansive. That’s where doc’s business was happening.
It housed ten single rehabilitation rooms, a shower, a couple of restrooms, a reception area with couches, a high-end workshop, several storage rooms, a large warehouse, and four offices, one doubling as a control station. And, of course, a state-of-the-art surgical room.
The surgical suite was particularly remarkable, isolated within a vibration-damped capsule with a controlled atmosphere, equipped with the latest generation surgical robot and auxiliary medical robots, complete with a full set of medical tools. Unlike the reception above, this space was the epitome of order and cleanliness.
Exiting the restroom booth into the hall, Nika walked past the administrator’s desk, where another ophthalmoscope was waiting, its standby light glowing.
She brought her eye to the eyepiece again, and the sensors re-scanned the ID tag of the implanted lens and the retina. The nearby computer screen lit up, displaying the message “decryption in progress.”
A moment later, an offline message from Dr. Zelman popped up, adorned with his usual media avatar – a lizard.
“Hello, bubbeleh! Glad to see you’ve made it to my humble abode with your patients. Everything you ordered is in stock. My robot is quite the genius; its libraries are up-to-date with the latest surgical knowledge, and the virtual assistant will guide you through the prep work. It’s not networked, so the Protectorate can’t touch it. All permissions are set. Fire it up and good luck.
And if your stay extends beyond expected, you can find all essentials for killing time and recovering in peace. Water, food – at least a week’s worth – chilling in the fridge. Well, you know, where the kitchen is, right?
Watch it! Don’t pop open that right-hand chamber in the surgical room; we left some medical waste there, and it’s not exactly on ice. If they haven’t started their own civilization, they surely smell worse than your shaiszu! :-)
Other than that – best luck! If you’ve got the wheels and the time, maybe you could schlepp my big, fancy surgical setup somewhere safe? It’s a real mechaye to have, and we could make a pretty penny on it, split it 50/50.
And you do remember that all this ain’t for free, right? Don’t kvetch, I’ll find you myself once the dust has settled. Ever thought about moving to Odessa? Warm, by the seaside… And you could schlepp my money in person. Nosh on that thought, okay?
By the way, don’t leave the doors open when you scoot; I might have other patients coming by too!”
“Well, mission accomplished,” Nika declared satisfactorily, wiping her hands. “Time to boot up Alisa, right? And you, mister, prepare yourself! Let’s catch our breath before we dive into repairs! Can’t wait to meet the proper man by my side.”
She gave Max a smile, its meaning unmistakably clear and rather intriguing…