Authors: Kseniya Makovetskaya
— Mr Aine Soph.
— Mr Daath.
— I'm glad you came.
— I'm always on your side.
— I have no doubt.
Mr Daath walked around the room in darkness. His silhouette was almost invisible, but one still could catch the contours of the black suit, a viper as if frozen smile and gleam in his eyes. He was recognizable, though no one could tell what he looked like, much less what he really wanted. For a second Aine Soph thought that he had recognized oriental facial features of the head of "Elohim," but most likely it only seemed so. Yes, definitely it did.
Mr Daath continued to walk around the office, looking at the books on the shelves. It was obvious that he had always lived in the dark, and not just never to be seen. Aine Soph knew that the habitat of "Elohim" was called "Abzu" but was not sure if it was on Earth, or that such place actually existed. Maybe it was just a beautiful epithet. No one knew...
— I allowed myself a little freedom — Aine Soph was ready for a difficult conversation.
— You have decided to save him to use for your own purposes.
— Yes.
— Instead, you left your place in the Order of Ophites, opened El'Athar access to all archives.
— Yes.
— Do you understand what you are doing?
— Absolutely.
— I'm counting on you, Mr Aine Soph. We can no longer hold the balance.
— So, you still want to ...
— Yes. Soon this world will come to an end. I cannot do anything, even I am powerless here.
Mr Daath smiled. This was not seen, but felt like some sentimentality settled in him for a moment. Or so it just seemed. Exactly, it seemed so.
Aine Soph was gone, and Mr Daath was left alone.
A call sounded.
— Mr Daath? It's El'Athar speaking.
— Yes, Mr El'Athar.
— I think that the time has come for us to meet. You know where to find me.
The communication was over.
***
A month ago
Message sent by the subscriber 10845-06 to the subscriber 00003-28
"El'Athar, I really need to talk to you. Tekhina "
"My work is becoming dangerous'
"Why don't you answer?"
"If something happens to me, it will be your fault. Moron."
Message sent by the subscriber 00003-28 to the subscriber 10845-06
"I'll come in the evening."
"Thank you for coffee and breakfast. I'll think of something".
— What did you see there?
— The bones, a lot of bones... the whole cemetery.
— Are they human?
— Some of them are... some are synthetic.
— How do you define it?
— The colour. Human bones cannot be dazzling white.
— What else is there?
— Organs in formalin. But they are not human. Those are also synthetic models, they have no blood vessels or nerve endings. They look like plastic. There are a lot of details like that...
— What do they want? The details to work?
— Yes. And for this they need my studies.
— Now everything is clear to me. They want to make new Lamashtu.
— This technology has long been lost.
— Research centre "Enki" existed long before humans returned to Earth. I think that they could keep something.
— They have created Aleph, too, once?
— No.
— Are you sure?
— Yes.
— Do you know something?
— All I know is that he is much older than we can imagine.
— I'm starting to be afraid. Lydia is behaving very strangely. She has always been detached and stiff, but after the death of her husband she became completely reserved. I do not know what's going on in the department where I work next door.
— I'm still interested in one important point. If your work is so important, why did not they give you money for pilot studies?
— I do not know... You tell me.
Lydia Lugal came to work very early, opened the rooms of "corner of Dr Moreau" and put things in order there. She did not allow the cleaning staff of the department to come into this sector, and did everything herself. It was a position of principle, rooted over the years, and nobody paid attention to it. Most of the rooms and laboratories of this sector have been closed, even for employees of the department.
Lydia looked through Tekhina's workplace. Yeah, it was necessary to allocate a decent amount of time trying to clean all this stuff on her desk. Thinking that Tekhina Ami will never come back, she felt nothing but relief. Lydia never liked the arrogant blonde in glasses, around whom a special agent was hanging, popping his nose everywhere.
Dr Lugal noticed a movement in the office of her husband. Dingir? — Only he had duplicates. But he should be at the university, so it was all very strange.
It was hard to stand for El'Athar even with a good fixator, and he briefly thinking about the ethics of his behaviour, sat in a chair that belonged to the late Trier Lugal.
— What are you doing here? — Lydia was not so much surprised as indignant at what was happening. This type, again! There was no escape from him, even after the death of his girlfriend.
— I need to know on what actually Tekhina Ami was working. After all, all the mysteries of "corner of Dr Moreau" are not even known to Mr Director-General. No one knows but you.
— And why do I have to tell you anything?
— Because you have no choice, my dear Lydia. I have a usual gun, always at my belt, but I did not take it today. I took my favourite one. A thing totally impractical, but in this case, just perfect — El'Athar unbuttoned his jacket, pulled out a huge silver revolver from the holster and put it on the table. — This is an antique. It is very old and it shoots normal bullets.
Lydia said nothing.
— You know, there used to be a game — "Russian Roulette". This revolver have five blunt rounds and one real bullet. You cannot see where it is. And you do not know how many attempts you have to tell me the truth. Do not worry, I'll pull the trigger as many times as required.
Lydia sat down in front of him. She remained silent.
— We can do so — El'Athar sat comfortably in the chair — I will speak, and you will agree with me.
Silence again.
— So — the special agent took the gun in his hand and pointed it at Lydia. — You worked on creating new Lamashtu?
Silence.
El'Athar pulled the trigger. A blunt round.
Lydia started to get nervous.
— Should I repeat my question once again? — asked El'Athar without removing the gun.
— No. — Lydia closed her eyes. — My husband really wanted to repeat the achievement of the founder of the "corner of Dr Moreau" and create a biorobot. He wanted to use the achievements of Dr Ami, without involving her in the process of creating it. He asked Mr Director-General not to fund her experimental studies, because he wanted to do it himself.
— To steal Tekhina's work?
— To take advantage of it.
— And you?
— And I ... I just wanted a little more time.
— So, it didn't work out? Just a pile of bones and organs.
— They are not viable without the work of Dr Ami.
— They all look like Aleph?
— Yes...
— I see. Who created him?
— I don’t know. But it was not "Enki".
— What are Lamashtu programmed for?
Silence again.
— You do not want to answer, Dr Lugal?
Another blank shot.
— Should I repeat that? — El'Athar looked more determined than ever.
— People should not have returned to Earth. But Mr Aine Soph and Mr Daath decided otherwise. I do not know how they did it.
— From time to time there is a restart of the universe?
— An update more likely. This is called the Correction. All people should have died in the galactic war. Until the last one. To leave the universe alone for a while. Then the evolution would have done the trick. And everything would have started again.
— But instead, project "Ouroboros" was launched?
— Yes.
— What does it threaten us?
— The Ultimate correction, which would result in not only people's deaths but the whole universe as well. And a new one will arise in its place.
— A Big Bang?
— Once scientists named the previous Ultimate correction like that. I wonder how they would call it next time...
— And what about Lamashtu? What is their role?
— They are keys to the Correction. They were created in order to start it manually. By people.
— And Aleph?
— He is a key-keeper. He is the ultimate correction.
El'Athar pulled the trigger again.
A shot rang out.
Chapter 35
Silence. Somewhere in the distance the ticking of the old cabinet clock could be heard.
Tick-tock ... tick-tock ...
Through the open window the wind burst and rustled the paper sheets on the old wooden table.
Bright futuristic landscape outside the window contrasted with the warm, cosy office, the looks of which had not changed for centuries. On the soft velvet sofa someone was asleep, covered with a rug with his head so that the sun wouldn't bother.
And outside the window the sea was heard...
Quiet cautious steps sounded in the corridor, someone gently walked to the window and closed it.
Aleph was deeply asleep.
El'Athar's gaze lingered on the young man for a second, but then special agent picked up the book, which he came for. He was not going to go away and sat down to read.
All this was strange. Aleph came at four in the morning and went to sleep in the office. He just said he was very tired, and then it would be necessary to talk. Since then, about twelve hours had passed, and he was still asleep. Agent remembered that the young man required a lot of time to restore, but this expectation tired him. El'Athar could not leave the house, but that day he was scheduled to visit the Ministry of the Interior.
For a long time they had not seen each other... At the funeral they did not exchange even a few words. Perhaps Aleph was angry.
Time passed slowly, he did not want to read, but there was nothing more to do in the house. Archives were viewed and ordered. So much had become clear that El'Athar wondered to himself, how could he have not notice such obvious facts before? The only thing was bad — currently the agent still remembered almost nothing. A few disconnected episodes: cleaning squads, war, family... God, how long ago was that? The project "Ouroboros" was started two thousand years ago, and then he was there, on the ship, as a junior technician, having escaped from the colony "Jericho-2." Two thousand years...
— I've recalled something... — there was a quiet sleepy voice in silence.
— And what did you recall? — El'Athar closed the book and put it on the table, but he continued to sit in the other end of the room.
— All Lamashtu have the serial number — a tattoo in the form of a cuneiform writing on the wrist. It seems to be the Sumerian language, which existed once here, in Elam. But I could not understand why I, too, have such a tattoo if I had not been created in "Enki"? Or is it a part of my DNA? This question tormented me for a long time.
— And have you found the answer? Have you remembered where is it from?
— Not really... I recalled that I have been in the "corner of Dr Moreau" before... Or rather, I'm sure I have been there.
— When?
— I do not know... Just a couple of months ago in my mind there was like a wall. I just got here and started to play the flute, and before that it seemed as if nothing had happened. I only knew that my name was Aleph, that I was the first of twenty-two, that I was seventeen years old and a homeless musician.
— That's OK, until recently, I also thought that I was twenty-eight, and my life began with the intelligence service.
— You start to recall too? don't you?
— A little...
— So this is a mass phenomenon.
— I think so.
— But why?
— I think all of us are now aware of our destiny. We were all created for a reason once. By someone.
— I do not understand anything already...
— So when were you in "Enki"?
— A few years ago. I almost do not remember anything, only the "corner of Dr Moreau," but it looked differently than it does now. I remember the cellar, there were a lot of glass cabinets along the walls. They were bones with tags. Signed and numbered. It seems to me that it was a corridor that led to far deadlock room.