SOTOPIA: Artificial Pseudo-God

Kay was buried in her wedding dress.

The deadly wound is well hidden under the snow-white wedding dress, the blooming bouquet is wrapped in cold hands, and the carefully combed red hair and matching makeup are reminiscent of brightly colored roses in full bloom.If her heart hadn't stopped beating, Kay lying in the coffin looked peaceful and peaceful as if she had fallen asleep, as if the tragedy on Highway 5 was just an illusory nightmare.

But she can no longer wake up from the dream.

Like her colleagues at the FBI, Kaye was at her funeral with Steven and Moskevich.The two of them stood side by side at the periphery of the crowd, dressed in black formal attire, holding a white lily in their hands, which was the same color as Kay's white wedding dress.

The slender and dense winter rain in Los Angeles makes people shudder.But none of the crowd at the funeral held an umbrella, they just stood solemnly.

As if to enter the palace of marriage with the bride sleeping in the coffin, just like the planned wedding a few months later, Torin dressed up as a handsome groom, but still cried like a young man who hadn't grown up.It was Langdon, the oldest forensic doctor in the department, who "witnessed the marriage" for them.As the coffin sank slowly, Torin knelt down on the muddy ground next to the tomb, watching the soil separate him from his lover step by step.Maynard, who was nearest to him, vaguely heard the unfortunate bridegroom repeating "I do."

Kaye did not leave an epitaph, and the photo on the tombstone was taken when he first started working.Her red hair was so dazzling that Steven had the illusion that she was alive for a split second.

"The loss of consciousness was almost instantaneous, and she walked without pain."

The ridiculous thing is that Thorin himself understands that Maynard's words are just white lies.

When the ambulance personnel rescued Kay from the deformed car, although she had lost a lot of blood and was dying, she still remained amazingly conscious-the reason is simple. Shot of adrenaline that was stashed in the car for emergencies.She even managed to soberly hand over the investigation report to the on-site firefighters, and with her last strength, she lifted up the ID card to identify herself, and asked the other party to hand over the file to the special office of the Los Angeles branch.

In short, Kay experienced all the pain from birth to death completely, and she didn't even give herself a chance to escape.

Steven looked at the dates of birth and death on the tombstone from a distance, and suddenly felt that a part of his life was also buried together.He didn't know whether he should tell Caroline, who was on good terms with her, about Kay's death, but he would at least choose to conceal the cause of death as a "car accident".After all, Caroline's own parents were also victims of traffic accidents, and the girl didn't need another injury like this.

The gloomy weather made the atmosphere of the scene even more dignified.Even though the funeral has come to an end and the crowd has left with heavy steps carrying the responsibilities and expectations of the deceased, sorrow and hopelessness still haunt this land.

When Maynard led his colleagues away, Steven waved to him, while Moskevich just stood aside and glanced at him calmly.Maynard nodded and said nothing to the former subordinate.He still has a job, a heavy burden that cannot be disclosed to outsiders, and a bigger grand blueprint.

Thorin has also been taken away by colleagues.Steven didn't intend to leave immediately, but walked to a nearby bench and sat down, staring blankly at the lined tombstones and the newly turned soil, as well as the fir trees and wooden houses outside the lawn.Moskevich sat beside him in silence.In fact, he is not familiar with Kay, at most he has dealt with him a few times, but he can roughly understand Steven's inability to let go of the sadness.

"Do you like her?" Moskevich asked suddenly, but there was no hint of displeasure or temptation in his tone.He is just trying to explore a fact that cannot change the status quo.

Looking up at the sky, Steven shook his head slightly, then nodded slowly, acknowledging this. "It used to be, but we were just friends in the end. As long as I see her, I will think of myself in the past. I don't understand the war, I don't care about the shady scenes, and I wishful thinking that people will always find the most ideal life posture."

"But the reality is not always like this."

"Sometimes I think," Steven pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit himself. "Is our death meaningful? For example, on the battlefield back then, such as the unimaginable accident now, in the end we have to find a reasonable basis for the collective grief at the funeral."

Moskevich lowered his head, stared at the unknown insect crawling in the soil and muttered to himself: "Whether it is meaning or value, it is a product of human construction..." For a moment, Moskevich even Thinking about what kind of expression the other party would show if he died in front of Steven.

But he didn't want to die, and he didn't want Steven to watch him die.

The two sat side by side in such a quiet way, until there was no one else around but them, a black figure appeared at the edge of the cemetery.

"...Jacqueline." Steven recognized her immediately.Kaye's former roommate, to whom she seemed to be somewhat distantly related, had been a coroner at the LAPD and then resigned for unknown reasons.

The petite body of the blond woman was wrapped in a black coat, making her look fragile and sensitive.She squatted down slowly in front of Kay's tombstone, folded her forearms on her knees, and stared at the face frozen in the photo for a long time.

Steven approached her.For some reason, he suddenly roughly guessed Jacqueline's real identity.But debunking all this doesn't make any sense, and Steven believes that Kaye has responded to her before he died.

Jacqueline was still staring at the photo on the tombstone, not paying attention to the eyes of Steven and Moskevich.After a long time, she said softly: "I envy her, and you - after everything is over, there can still be a public funeral. But we can't even know about death."

Steven and Moskevich couldn't see her expression clearly, but they could roughly guess that it would be a mixture of loneliness and sadness.She may not cry, but the inability to cry can sometimes be more unbearable than a hearty vent.

"This car accident...is it really just an accident?" Moskevich asked cautiously.

Jacqueline nodded, but still did not take her eyes off the tombstone: "It was a complete accident." After a few minutes, she stood up and said slowly: "I still have more than one undisclosed obituary."

Steven just shook his head: "I'm not in the FBI anymore."

"That's it." Jacqueline's voice sounded lifeless.

When leaving, Steven noticed that her back was trembling slightly, her thin shoulders were tense, and her steps were not solid.She finally cried out.

He looked at Moskevich next to him, and gently put his arms around the latter's shoulder: "...let's go."

"Steven," Moskevich said suddenly, "I'd better go see Elena—Mrs. Renault."

Steven was taken aback for a moment, and soon returned to his usual expression: "Have you changed your mind?"

"They made me change my mind. I was afraid I wouldn't get a second chance."

"Okay, I will protect you." The words that seemed to be a confession were so commonplace and straightforward in the mouth of the former detective.

The gloomy sky and icy rain still enveloped Los Angeles, and fine streams of water flowed wantonly on the glass windows.

Maynard stood in front of the window, facing the leaden urban jungle outside, his eyes unfocused, just as he watched Theodore leave two years ago.Behind him, the International Express was being broadcast on TV, and the hostess' voice was blurred by the sound of the rain.

"——A Mi-26 'Halo' helicopter of unknown nationality was shot down by ground fire on the Syrian border, and all the people on board were killed. According to insiders, the dead included military forces from Syria, Jordan, Turkey and other countries participating in the interim peace talks in the region VIPs, as well as high-level personnel of a security consulting firm in North America, flew to Damascus, the capital of Syria. No organization has claimed responsibility for the attack.”

After all, this ruthless man paid the price with his life for his ideals. All of this is justified, and it is only a matter of time before the tragedy happens.Maynard thought so.

To Maynard's surprise, he received Theodore's relic a few days later.

To be precise, it was just an ordinary dark blue suitcase.Maynard remembered that it was the one Theodore left with.The person delivering the box was wearing an iron blue uniform, with a public face that is not easy to remember, and explained his intentions with a blank expression: "Basically, those who participated in the peace talks wrote suicide notes and determined the objects to be transferred to. But There are exceptions: Theodore Lacks, who was hired as the head of security for this peace talks, has only said whom to send his stuff to.”

Maynard looked at the letterhead in his hand, there was no last words on it, only his own address.In fact, he didn't feel angry, nor did he have the urge to cry, but suddenly felt like his heart was being hit by a heavy hammer, as if he would die suddenly at his door in the next second.

"...Is that all?" Maynard found his voice hoarse terribly.

The mourner shook his head, his head drooping slightly in condolence.

"He didn't say anything else?" He asked in a low voice unwilling to give up.

"Extremely sorry, no. That's all he has left at the station."

It's useless to ask any more.Even if there is any answer, it may not be the result you want.

Watching the other party leave, Maynard carried the suitcase into the room.The weight is very light, and it must be just clothes and other insignificant things. Various important documents may have been recovered or destroyed in the air crash.Opening the box, the items inside were exactly as Maynard had expected. They were simple clothing suitable for the Middle Eastern climate, and daily necessities such as razors brought from the United States.Maynard was impressed by Theodore's attention to appearance.

He rummaged through every mezzanine of the suitcase, picked up every piece of clothing and searched carefully, but he still couldn't find half a piece of useful paper, let alone the words Theodore left for himself.Finally, Maynard collapsed on his bed, still clutching Theodore's suit jacket.

It was ordered before he left Los Angeles.Theodore himself said that he likes the texture and style, and even the stitching of the lining is meticulous.This relic, which was rushed back from far away Syria, still smelled of cigars and cologne, and there was a small badge of the security consultant company on the collar.

"—Go to hell," Maynard murmured.The eye sockets are still dry, but there is a fishy-sweet taste deep in the throat, and the stomach is aching.He curled up and buried his face in the dead man's clothes, as if reminiscing about the early morning hours at Quantico base several years ago. "We were supposed to go to hell together..."