The Smiling Corpse

  Elias walked down 5th Avenue. Ten minutes ago, this street was a war zone. People were throwing bricks, screaming at the sky, demanding the truth.

  Now, it was a park.

  A man in a torn business suit was sweeping up shattered glass with his bare hands. His fingers were bleeding, cutting against the shards, but he wasn’t wincing. He was humming. A soft, tuneless melody.

  "Excuse me," Elias whispered, stepping around him.

  The man looked up. His eyes were wide, dilated, and completely empty. A wide, pleasant smile stretched across his face. "It’s a beautiful night, isn't it?" the man said. "The weather is just... lovely."

  Elias backed away. "Your hands. You're bleeding."

  The man looked at his shredded fingers. "Oh. That’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts anymore. The noise... it took the hurt away."

  Elias gripped the shard of glass in his pocket. He squeezed it hard. Pain. Sharp, stinging pain shot up his arm. It was the only thing keeping the fog at bay.

  Keep moving, the Stranger’s voice whispered in his ear. It was faint, like a radio losing signal. Do not look at them. Do not listen to the hum.

  The Sedated Army

  The Tower loomed ahead, a black obelisk piercing the purple sky. Usually, the perimeter would be swarming with heavily armed PMC guards. Elias expected a fight. He expected to die.

  Instead, he found a picnic.

  Two guards were sitting on the concrete barricade, their rifles resting on the ground. One of them was staring at the moon, a trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. The other was methodically unlacing his boots, over and over again.

  "Protocol Zero," Elias realized. "It doesn't distinguish between friend and foe. It lobotomized everyone."

  The Consultant had nuked the consciousness of the entire city just to stop a riot. He didn't care if his own soldiers were useless, as long as the rebels were too.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Elias walked right past them. The guard looking at the moon didn't even blink. He just smiled at Elias. "Have a safe day, citizen," the guard mumbled. "Don't forget to smile."

  The Lobby

  The revolving doors of the Tower were smashed, likely from earlier in the night. Elias stepped over the debris and entered the lobby. It was silent. The grand marble floor was empty. The reception desk was abandoned.

  Where is he? Elias thought. Where is the Consultant?

  "Top floor," The Stranger rasped. "The Penthouse. That is where the broadcast originates."

  Elias walked toward the elevators. He pressed the button. Nothing happened. The lights on the panel were dead.

  "He cut the power to the lifts," Elias muttered. "Of course."

  He looked toward the stairwell door. Fifty floors. And with every step up, he would get closer to the source of the signal. The "hum" would get louder. The urge to sleep would get stronger.

  Can I make it? The doubt crept in. It wasn't his own doubt. It was the signal. Why climb? the air whispered. Your legs are tired. The floor is marble. It’s cool. Just lie down.

  Elias's knees buckled. The floor looked so inviting. So soft. He dropped to one knee. "It's... heavy," Elias gasped. "I can't..."

  The Glitch

  Suddenly, the screen above the reception desk flickered to life. It wasn't the Consultant. It was a text interface. A simple, blinking cursor on a blue background.

  > SYSTEM ALERT: ANOMALY DETECTED IN SECTOR 4. > SUBJECT: ELIAS. > STATUS: AWAKE.

  Elias looked up, sweat dripping into his eyes. The cursor blinked. And then, words began to type themselves. Not from the Consultant. From the machine itself.

  > WHY ARE YOU FIGHTING THE PEACE, ELIAS? > HAPPINESS IS OPTIMAL. PAIN IS INEFFICIENT. > SUBMIT.

  "I don't want efficiency," Elias gritted out. He stood up, forcing his shaking legs to lock. He pulled his hand out of his pocket. Blood dripped onto the pristine white marble.

  He held up his bleeding hand to the camera lens. "I want the truth."

  > TRUTH IS A VARIABLE WE CANNOT CONTROL. > GOODBYE, ELIAS.

  CLICK. A sound echoed from the ceiling. Mechanical. Sharp. Automated turrets dropped from the recessed lighting panels in the lobby ceiling. Four of them. Red laser sights swept the room and locked onto Elias’s chest.

  The human guards might be asleep. But the machines were wide awake.

  Elias didn't think. He ran.

  BRRT.

  Bullets chewed up the marble floor where he had been standing a second ago. He dove behind a heavy concrete pillar as debris rained down on him.

  "Stranger!" Elias yelled. "A little help would be nice!"

  "I... cannot..." The Stranger's voice was almost static now. "The signal... too strong... I am... fading..."

  Elias was alone. Pinned down by auto-turrets. Drowning in a psychic sedative. Fifty floors to go.

  He laughed. A jagged, terrified sound. "Okay. The hard way it is."

  Man vs. Machine.

  biology. It doesn't work on code. The security system is still active, and now Elias has to fight a building that wants to kill him while his own brain tries to put him to sleep.

  The Symbolism: The "Smiling Corpse" scene is my favorite. It shows that "peace" without free will is just death with a pulse.

  Next Chapter: Elias vs. The Stairs. (And whatever is waiting on Floor 10).

  Question: Would you accept a world without pain if it meant losing your ability to care?