SOTOPIA: Artificial Pseudo-God

After talking with Higgins, Steven still called home before going to the apartment rented by Elias Blowy to find out.

Moskevich answered the phone in a much more subdued tone than before he left—although the customary exchange of words between them never represented real anger.

"What's the matter, did you hit a wall when you first started working, or did you suddenly miss the mules and deer in your hometown and the hugs of your relatives in the face of cruel reality?" Moskevich said in a frivolous tone, and turned another page of the book in his hand.

Hearing that there was no noise from the TV or radio on the other end of the phone, Steven thought that the other party was just trying to be brave, a man who claimed to have no self-awareness still had a subtle enthusiasm and sense of responsibility for his work. "It's okay, everything is going well. It's you instead, don't be provoked to cry by something you don't understand." He still couldn't control his bad taste.

"Fuck you, Steven."

"You are very imposing when you swear, I suggest you maintain the same bleak ironic style as the British before."

"I'm afraid these words have basically bid farewell to the possibility of a cross-border affair. I advise you to pay attention to your wording. Tell me, what's the matter?"

Steven, who was standing by the sidewalk, took half a step back to the corner to avoid the stroller pushing past him, and received a nod and smile from a young mother.It must be admitted that this phone call was not necessary—he thought that he might just have an instinctive psychological dependence on the safety of those close to him, but he would never show it directly.

"Are there any problems while I'm away?" he simply asked.

Moskevich laughed twice, with a strong sense of ridicule: "I feel very happy when you are not here."

Steven also smiled: "You can continue to pretend until you are too tired to hold a pen."

Unfortunately, the other party didn't intend to gag along with the conversation: "I just received something from your father's friend. It contains a buckskin hat for Caroline and two antler-handled hunting knives for you."

"One of them is yours."

"……Oh, thank you."

Listening to the voice of the other party infected with the radio wave effect, for some reason, Steven felt an inexplicable calm.He was leaning against the wall, the noise rushing on the street was just a harmless background music for this conversation, and even his voice couldn't help being softer—of course, the wording may not be like this: "Since you want to thank you, you should be more devoted." How about some?"

"It would be quicker for you to listen to late-night sex on the underground radio station. Then I'll send your ex-boss those horribly worded sonnets you wrote."

"Forget it." Steven hung up the phone with a smile.

The so-called "upheaval of life" used to be a simple fact for him.But now it seems that the psychological effect seems to have exceeded his imagination.

Looking back on the past, whether he was on the battlefield in the Middle East or working in the special office of the FBI's Los Angeles branch, he and his place are like a sharp sword, a sharp sword wielded with the will of the country as its original intention; The puzzle tied to personal interests will undoubtedly make him (and more people) fall into the quagmire.

But after saying goodbye to that life, Steven suddenly felt more like a shield—or a sword turned into a shield.He still misses those battles, his comrades and colleagues, and the thrill of being at the forefront of conflict, but he can't give up something more important for it.Steven once believed that the pursuit of excitement was more important than his life-this judgment has not changed, but now, the safety and happiness of some people have surpassed the value of excitement in his opinion.

Trade-offs and choices-this is a problem that everyone will face.Steven knew that this would not be the last important decision to make, but before the critical moment came, he still had room for maneuver.

"Maynard, do you remember the story of 'shield and sword' I told you?"

——Theodore's voice is still the same as when he was an instructor at the academy many years ago, as if he was always persuading and admonishing, with an authoritative quality that cannot be disobeyed.

The red liquid in the wine glass was shaking slightly.Maynard stared at the flowing twilight, almost imagining how the oxidation reaction would take place.

Of course, he heard what Theodore said, but complex emotions forced him to remain silent, and the voice he finally squeezed out was also dull and stiff: "KGB." He replied briefly. "The KGB of the former Soviet Union, our former enemy."

With a look in his eyes that cannot be simply classified as appreciation or nostalgia, Theodore stared at his student almost affectionately—even though the other party did not recognize this relationship, and was looking at the wine bottle on the other side, never Willing to look at myself.

Both of them understood that such an embarrassing situation was caused by them together. "Historical reasons," Maynard might have summed up so vaguely.

Theodore withdrew his gaze, ready to break the deadlock with a nonchalant and boring topic. "'Protect people from harm with the shield, and punish the enemies of the Soviets with the sword,' that's the interpretation they gave to the shield and the sword," he said. "Leaving aside the KGB's notoriety and ideological differences, this symbolism is indeed what I once wanted to convey to you."

Maynard was still staring at the glass in his hand—he hadn't taken a sip at all.

And the former FBI instructor from the FBI National Academy is still saying: "As for how to determine your position, whether it is a strong shield or a sharp sword, it depends on you. To become the last line of defense of this country, or to stab the enemy for her The key point is that there is no contradiction between the two. When infiltration and invasion are unstoppable, you still need to come forward and cut off the infected part yourself. How to weigh the pros and cons, I believe you no longer need my advice and teaching.”

Theodore knew he was listening, and could understand his metaphors without disagreement.Leaving aside the inevitable contradictions, he felt that this situation was perfect, but he was a little bit distressed about the red wine he had stored.

The silence didn't last long.Facing Theodore, who was several years older than himself and had an unusual relationship, Maynard finally said, "I'm really fed up with your preaching, Theodore. Why did you choose to come back at this time?" ? I remember that your company is headquartered in Mexico, and it disposed of its real estate in the United States two years ago."

"You're angry." As before, without answering the other party's question, Theodore went straight to the point and got out of the point that Maynard deliberately avoided. "Which one? Because I left the FBI, or because I left you?"

Maynard put down his glass.After several hours, he met Theodore's eyes for the first time.Unbiased, looking directly into the other person's eyes. "I thought there was only a physical relationship between us." His voice was a little dry—maybe it was because of the lack of moisture from the wine, he thought wildly.

Theodore smiled wryly, and drank the red wine in the glass gracefully and steadily."The nature of the relationship is up to you - whether it's in the beginning or later, that's what I said," he said.

"You abandoned—you betrayed me, you betrayed the FBI." The anger that had been suppressed for a long time finally reached the breaking point, and Maynard stared at Theodore, as if trying to dig out from those light-colored eyes Uncover the conspiracy and shady buried in the past few years.

"However, my resignation and resignation are completely in line with the procedures, and I am not collaborating with the enemy and treason like Roberts Greert."

"...the source of the information?"

"Don't forget what job I do. By the way, according to the latest news shared by our company's most recent protected subjects, Greert committed suicide in prison by taking meth. a mystery."

——Hateful, flawless man.

Maynard's state of mind borders on despair at the moment, but half of that despair lies in his self-loathing and loneliness.

In fact, Theodore's voice is gentle enough, if it is placed at a reception or other occasions, it must be able to win the hearts of ladies.But if it is a mildly paranoid patient who has been "disturbed and abandoned" by this overly heavy tenderness, such a reunion after a long absence may mean that the pain will repeat itself again.

And Maynard can only choose to compromise every time.

"You're always like this." He stood up, grabbed the cigarettes and lighters on the table - next to the cigars Theodore recommended him to try, Maynard naturally did not accept - but although the familiar smoke gradually filled In the tense atmosphere between the two, Maynard did not feel peaceful at all, and seemed restless as he paced back and forth. "Whenever I thought maintaining the status quo would be ok, it forced me to face a harsher reality."

Theodore watched him silently.At least for now, Maynard wouldn't be willing to exchange knowing glances with him.So, he just said calmly: "I know your tolerance threshold. Whether it is the same period or longitudinal comparison, your performance in the academy is very good, and you can go further."

"Is that why you left me where I am?"

"It's a necessary sacrifice."

"You're the same as those lunatics."

Hearing such words, Theodore just raised his eyebrows and said nothing.

In normal times, Maynard would never have shown such an emotional side.Now that I think about it, maybe everything was premeditated-back to Theodore went abroad to form a security consulting company, back to the entanglement of alcohol and instinct driven love after the carnival, and even pushed forward to Maynard's first time Accept the college assessment.

Maynard finally put down the cigarette in his hand.He walked to the window and opened the heavy curtains. The light flowing outside the sound-proof glass was like a colorful silent film.He opened his mouth to say something, but chose to remain silent.After a long time, he asked in a low voice: "If you asked for my opinion before leaving, and I said 'no', what would you do?"

After asking, Maynard suddenly felt that this question was so stupid that it was an insult to his level.What's more, he could almost guess what answer Theodore would give.

This is indeed the case.

Theodore just shook his head helplessly.

— nothing will change.No, he couldn't have asked the question in the first place, and that's an unreasonable assumption.

Thinking of this, Maynard snorted self-deprecatingly, picked up his wine glass again, and drank it down in one gulp, disregarding proper manners and wine tasting rules.At this moment, he suddenly realized: If he stood in Theodore's position, he might not only leave without saying goodbye, but even the premise of "establishing a relationship" would be difficult to say. He might be a more cruel type. people.

- We all have something more important than the other.

"I'm not going to stay long in Los Angeles. After a while—maybe a few weeks, maybe a few months, I'll have to go to North Africa; and then the Middle East," said Theodore suddenly.

Maynard felt he had to say something. Whether it's "why", "when will you come back", "it's dangerous there, are you planning to die", at least some words with practical meaning, maybe you can get away with changing some inconspicuous details, and this Details that currently exist only as hypotheses can be of inestimable value.

But he didn't speak, didn't say a word.Maynard just swallowed the unwillingness that had been silent for so long that he could not fully express it, and even he didn't know whether such silence stemmed from "not daring" or "not wanting".

Maynard put away the half-empty bottle and put it in the wine cabinet.With his back to Theodore, he said stiffly: "I have a vacant room here, you can borrow it before you get out." He quickly patched up his unexpected generosity: "You have a lot of dignitaries in you. It would be very troublesome if important information was leaked outside."

"Don't worry about me attacking you? Don't forget who taught you this." Theodore's voice was not all playful, but there was also a subtle emotion.

"You can try." Maynard knew that his harsh words were weak, but who cares, he knew and was sure that this person would not do it.

Observing the figure of his nominal student, Theodore's mood was also complicated.He would also think back to the days and nights at Quantico long ago, like Maynard Russell, who was not very tall and built in the ranks of would-be secret agents.The black-haired young man performed outstandingly in the simulated actual combat, with excellent results in intelligence processing and various practical skills. Except for his paranoid personality and unfriendly eyes, everything is so ideal.Another example is that Maynard will obediently open up everything except the spirit to herself at certain times, and maintain an inseparable underground relationship for quite a long time.

In fact, Theodore misses it all, just as Maynard sometimes wishes it hadn't happened.