Project "Eye" p.19

_{Photo: AV Photography}



As promised, we are moving at the Stakhanov pace. There is not much left.

References to the previous parts and appeal to those who see the Oka publications for the first time:

Eye - my personal literary project, the work on which I started in May of this 2015. From a small sketch, he turned into a science fiction work, the chapters of which I post, as I write, on GT.

')

Previous parts:



Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

---

In part number 18:



- Deimos. In the center he was given the name Deimos.



O'Connell silently watched Astrea.



“As I see,” the man finally said, “he really knows how to strike terror.



“Believe me, you can,” agreed Astraea, “so what do you want from me?”



O'Connell twirled his cane in his hands, wondering what to answer this question.



“You understand,” he began, “according to the order of the Council, the operators were distributed in a thin layer to all the power structures of the state. Unfortunately, the fighter assigned to us, whom I can trust, is now on a mission. We still have a couple of telepaths, but I don’t believe them.



- And I mean, believe?



“Of course not,” O'Connell smiled, “but I’m sure that choosing Henry between me and you will be on my side.” Are you on my side?



- I have a choice?



- Not.



- Then I see no reason to answer this question.



Astraea got up from her chair and walked around the cell where she was held.



“So where do we start, Colonel?”



O'Connell looked at the girl appraisingly, wondering again whether he was doing the right thing.



“For starters, you should clean up.”



O'Connell also got up and, walking to the door, knocked on it twice.



- Richie, open, everything is in order.



The door, locked by electromagnets, opened silently.



- Let's go, - Richard appealed to Astrea invitingly with a hand, - we have a lot to do.



***



After Melissa had finished Oliver's mind test, she sat for some time by his bed.



Looking at the facial features of the Steel General, the woman tried to imagine who this man could have become if he had not fallen into the millstones of the civil war. An architect? An engineer? A doctor? Worker? Now, knowing Oliver, it was difficult to imagine him in some other incarnation, different from the cold-blooded killer and commander of the whole shock corps, but if you try to disengage from everything that you know, the imagination begins to slip funny options.



Is oliver a teacher? Or maybe a farm worker? Why not.



Before Melissa’s eyes, an image appeared in which the Steel General, without such serious gray hair and wrinkles, was engaged in watering seedlings in one of the capital’s greenhouses. Or adjusts the capillary system. Or unloads bags of fertilizer and fertile soil, which was brought from the surviving southern tip of the country.



“What could you be if it were not for the war?” Melissa wondered, peering at the serene face of the sleeper. "What could we all be, Oliver?"



Finally, she again touched Oliver's consciousness to make sure that he was sleeping deeply and without dreams, and left the room.



Ahead of her, the unpleasant part of the day was waiting for her - Deimos insisted on her presence in Ivor's office, where he, Adikia, Matt, and Dr. Ivor themselves got together for something.



Melissa intersected with Deimos only a couple of times, and she could not call these meetings pleasant. Communicating with other fellow operators, she felt a relationship with them, touching their minds and their strength, which was not observed for people who did not receive an injection of EP-22.



Deimos was more like the element than the kindred being. Destabilized, it resembled a volcano, ready for an eruption, which some prankster stuffed with a huge wine cork. The cork cracked, swelled up, ready to keep the pressure of the elements forever, but at the same time at any moment it could pierce the vault of heaven with its shot, which would announce the beginning of the apocalypse. Next to him, Melissa felt naked and defenseless: without even concentrating her attention on her, Deimos emitted waves of power that seemed to be felt with his hands. When he spoke to Melissa, she wanted to cringe and hide in a corner - she felt so insignificant next to him.



“We can’t do anything to him, but what will happen when he is completely gone astray?” - this thought beat in the woman’s head as she walked along the corridor.



- Everything will be fine, believe me.



Immersed in thought, Melissa did not notice how Adikia caught up with her.



- What?



- I say everything will be fine. About Deimos. - repeated the younger of the sisters.



- This is what you are now?



“Besides the fact that you are very strong,” Adikia gently slammed Melissa into the shoulder with her fist, as if they were intimate friends, “calm down, Deimos is not as scary as it seems at first glance.”



“It's not so scary yet,” Melissa corrected Adikia. - And what will happen when he finally leaves the coils?



Adikia only shrugged.



“It’s not a fact that we will live to this point,” the younger sister added after a while.



Her last remark discouraged Melissa from any desire to speak further. So, in silence, they reached the Ivor office.



Inside, almost everyone was assembled. Melissa hoped to see Anna Price, but she was lying in the infirmary with a broken jaw. As she heard, it was a farewell gift from Adika’s older sister, Astrea.



“Great,” said Deimos, getting up from his seat — at the desk of Mike Ivor, who he indiscriminately occupied in the absence of the latter — you were waiting for you, girls.



- Waited for what? - Could not resist and asked Melissa.



Matt gave her a short, disapproving look, Deimos grinned, and Ivor didn’t give any indication.



- For parting, of course! What for? “Deimos went up to Melissa and took her by the shoulders.” - I will be very sorry to leave you, but I have to. Adikia and I have great things to do. Yes, Adikia?



The girl nodded uncertainly in response.



“If you were just going to leave, then why did we all need to be gathered here?” - Matt got involved in the conversation.



Deimos released Melissa and stood in the center of the office, turning to face the old commander.



- You know, Matthew, I have long been gnawed at a question that lies in the plane of morality and ethics. And all those gathered here are just experts in this field. - Deimos looked around the room, lingering on each of those present for a moment. - Do I have the right to kill a person if this is a bad person? Tell me, Commander Matthew Harris, how did you deal with bad people?



Matt did not have time to answer, but Deimos continued:



“You executed them yourself, either with your watchdog, Oliver Steele, aren't you, old man?” But what defined a person as bad? Do we have the right to make such subjective conclusions, which form the basis of the death sentence? What is good and what is bad?



- I do not understand what you are driving at? - Matt, this rubbish became rather annoying.



- No, old man, you will not shut me up, - Deimos was incredibly cheerful, which added to the horror of the situation, because everyone was aware of his insignificance against the background of his abilities, - I will use my right to be strong and finish, and you listen and answer my questions. What is good and what is bad? Although, I will simplify the task: who did you execute and why?



“Enough of this ephemeral shit,” Matt replied sharply enough, “you understand perfectly well.” It was war, and in war there is only one law: either you or you.



- Exactly! - Deimos exulted. - Either you or you. The only law that has the right to life, is it, old man? How many have you killed by following your logic?



Matt got up from his seat and walked right up to Deimos. Now he did not care who he was and what he was capable of.



- What do you understand this in general? Killed? All these people whom I set against the wall deserved this fate. Resistance never executed without trial! How else to deal with murderers, rapists and marauders, when children are starving in your camps, eh? When do your fighters eat for months the sublimated crap that only keeps the body alive? Feed the bastards? Try to fix them? In this world, you either are born and live as a person, or you die like a dog - in a loop or chained to a pole in front of a number of firing squad! Everything!



“Aw, calmer,” Deimos patted Matt familiarly on the shoulders, than drove him off even more strongly, “but did you not think about what you decide for others?” Or do you think the field court of resistance is the most honest and humane?



“Everyone always decides for himself,” Matt replied, “and my decisions or the decisions of my subordinates to execute or pardon are only a response to the actions of other people.”



“Then why is there,” Deimos nodded at the door, “is the most mass murderer in modern history lying in the ward?” Why is Oliver still in this world, eh old man? He committed atrocities for a hundred, still remain, but still alive.



There was silence in the room.



- Okay. Think about it after my departure. And you, ”now Deimos turned to Ivor,“ Mike, remember our agreement? ” Ready to pour out your soul?



Ivor ter palm, as if preparing for something.



- Yes I remember.



- Well. Then, we have to go, - he suddenly extended his hand to Matt, - I did not say that your sentences were unfair. I just wanted you to think about why and why you made such decisions.



Matt stared at Deimos for a long time, trying to understand what he was trying to achieve with this ridiculous performance, but he shook his hand.



“You, doctor, will not reap my hand, you know,” Deimos continued in a cheerful tone.



- Understand.



- And where will you go? - Matt asked.



“To the very heart of this rotten state, of course,” Deimos replied with a smile. “Okay, girl,” he turned to Adikia, “are our things ready?”



“Yes, by the elevator,” Adikia, who remained silent, said all this time.



- Well, Matt, Melissa, I leave you alone with Michael. And we will go.



- Michael? - Repeated Matt under his breath, but the door for Deimos and Adikiey slammed.



“What did it all mean, Mike?” - Asked the old commander was already a surgeon. - What the hell was that? What kind of Michael?



Ivor did not answer. He got up, walked over to his desk, and took out a packet of tea from the bottom shelf.



- Melly, dear, go for boiling water and glasses. We have a long conversation.



Mike understood that he did not dare to disobey Deimos. He still felt his presence in his head.



***



- And what was that?



They left the research center, playfully passing the checkpoint and several levels of admission checks, and now they were walking on foot towards the city along a good asphalt road.



- Again the play? - Adikia repeated her question in another manner.



“You could say that,” Deimos nodded in response. - I needed at least a little to understand what kind of person Matt was.



- Wasn’t it enough for you to look into his consciousness?



Deimos smiled and straightened the strap of the duffel bag.



“Adikia, so who, you must understand that consciousness is like a river.” It constantly flows, changes form depending on the “course” of circumstances given to it. It is impossible to understand a person in one touch of his mind, it is inaccessible even for me. Damn, I had to put on armor yet, I didn't think about that.



“And I said,” Adimia reproached Deimos.



- Yes, she did. And I did not listen.



- Now it would be much easier to go.



“But without armor, we’ll cause less attention in the city, and attention is the last thing we need right now,” said Deimos.



Adikia did not answer.



“So what's up with Matt's mind?” What have you seen?



Deimos pondered.



- You know, nothing special. Just strong in spirit and will, but mortally tired old man. His age is coming to an end, he understands this, but he can do nothing with it, as we all do. - He again straightened the strap. “We all die someday.”



The rest of the way they passed in silence. Passing the outskirts consisting of faceless concrete boxes for the workers, they went out to the trade ring encircling the Capital.



The city occupied a huge area. The central ring of skyscrapers, in which there were various departments, laboratories and organizations, both public and private, cut through the sky and produced the effect of a monolithic wall. Inside the business sector there was a government: the building of the council and the residences of its members, the counterintelligence corps, part of the capital’s garrison, reserved for the protection of those in power.



On the outside of the business sector, life was in full swing. There were houses where clerks and military men lived, bars, cafes and rare restaurants for the elite of this world. The Ring of Life, as the workers called it, did not fall under curfew, although there were more patrols on the streets than ordinary passers-by. The “Ring of Life” was fenced off from the majority of the population except for various checkpoints and found the “shopping row”, a buffer zone several kilometers wide, where the streams of hard workers from the suburbs, looking for all sorts of wonders, pre-war equipment, antiques, merged together; all that could be sold could be bought on the ring of the trade row.



He organized spontaneously. Once, after the construction of the government center and the inner ring, this huge site was planned as a zone for further expansion of the capital, however, the growth of attacks on civil servants, their families, looting and robbery forced the army to “slam” the inner ring and introduce a system of tolerances.



Approximately three-quarters of the residents of the capital were found outside the "Ring of Life", in the mall and in the workers' outskirts, on one side of which the Ghetto was still stretched from the face of the earth. Some craftsmen, engineers and business leaders had limited access to the inside of the ring on a par with the military, while the rest had to be content with the role of the servants of their rulers.



Judging by the crush on the mall, it was Sunday.



“Hold the bag tight,” Adikia Deimos said quietly.



He himself sharpened, as if with familiar movements for him, moved the crowd in front of him, without disdaining and equipping with his elbows.



- Look where you're going! “A bald man yelled at Adikia, who almost turned his cart with pots over.” - Hands on the goods!



The girl thought what to say, but Deimos grabbed her sleeve and dragged her along.



“There are some of our operators here, and you are a kilometer away,” Deimos hissed in her ear.



- In terms of? - did not understand Adikia.



“In a sense, you need to be less nervous,” Deimos continued in a half-whisper, “now we need to dissolve in the crowd, and not shine to the whole capital.”



Adikia did not even have time to figure out what was happening, and her comrade had already dragged her to one of the side rows, on which the tents were standing, and the passage was so narrow that two men could easily miss each other.



Various rags hung from hooks of canopies: a decommissioned soldier's uniform, new overalls, gloves, underwear.



“Hey man, buy your wife shoes!” - To cut short Deimos some short guy rushed, holding in his hands a pair of new, even in something nice brown shoes with low heels. - Buy your wife shoes, man! What is it in your shoes then! “The shopkeeper did not let up, while Deimos tried to get around him.



“Thank you, uninteresting,” he said and tried to go around the annoying merchant, but he did not let him through.



- Come on! Such a girl, and go to hell understand what! - Shorty slyly winked Adiki, they say, now everything will be. - If there is no money, then let's barter something! You have a great bag! For him, even two pairs of ladies!



“Not interesting,” Deimos snarled and pushed the shopkeeper away so that he almost turned his own counter, “come on, let's go,” he added for Adikia.



The couple passed the annoying seller and began to make their way further along the mall.



“What have we forgotten here at all?” “Adikia didn’t understand at all why they were at the epicenter of this noisy, noisy, smelly and moonshine mass of people.



“Almost arrived,” Deimos answered shortly.



Fifteen minutes later, they approached the checkpoint, guarded by a dozen fighters, and separating the trading line from the Ring of Life.



“Good afternoon, sir,” Deimos politely asked the commander, “shall we pass?”



On the face of the military did not flinch a muscle. He did not even look at Deimos and Adikia, but only nodded shortly and stepped aside, in parallel giving his soldiers the order to let them through.



After passing the checkpoint, the couple turned into the very first cafe that they found on the way.



The proximity of the shopping mall left an imprint on the institution. There was no hard taboo at the entrance to this part of the city (there were still checkpoints ahead), and more or less decent dealers, engineers, or just those who went in search of adventure or antiques, were constantly coming here on their way back home. Also, apparently, there were also soldiers from nearby checkpoints, who, after the changing of the guard, would drop by for a glass or other moonshine or beer.



It was quiet here now. The influx of customers was expected, apparently in the late afternoon, when the mall begins to empty, and at the checkpoints of the ring, a shift shift will begin.



Untidy, but with a claim to her hairstyle, of indefinite age, a portly woman behind the counter looked at the evaluators.



Deimos and Adikia were dressed very decently and looked more like soldiers in dismissal than hard workers who came to gawk, so the housekeeper even tried to paint a smile:



- What will you be? - A hoarse, drunken voice with giblets betrayed in her an avid debauchery and an alcoholic, but now, surprisingly, she did not smell of alcohol - only hardened sweat.



Deimos glanced at the hands of a woman who, to his satisfaction, was absolutely pure, like an apron, and answered:



- We have tea, please.



- There are still wheat bread, fresh.



Deimos knew the freshness of these buns. Copied from the parts as spoiled, they often fell into the hands of the owners of such institutions for a nominal fee. Subsequently, these bricks, otherwise they could not be called, were placed in ovens with two or three liters of water. The water evaporated and absorbed into the bread, making it suitable for use again without the risk of breaking teeth. True, it did not relieve the smell of mold, but it didn’t care much for buyers: not the time to turn up the nose.



- Yes, give two.



“You’re three forty,” the woman said and took a waiting position.



Deimos remembered with regret the times when he was an officer. Then, in a captain’s uniform, going into any institution of the inner ring, he simply placed an order and served him at that time. They paid the officers well, especially to captains and higher in rank, so there was no point in doubting the solvency of such people, but not a single institution wanted to dampen their reputation in officer circles.



The woman was still standing, waiting for payment in advance, tapping a fingernail from time to time on a piece of plastic on which small change was poured.



“Second,” Deimos answered, and put his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket. From there, he took out a stack of folded bills and found the top five in them. While giving her to the woman, Deimos noticed how her eyes flashed avidly.



Going to the city, Deimos checked the workers of the center for the fact of owning cash. Although the salaries of many were very impressive - the charge for silence - only three hundred dollars were scraped together, most of which were small change. From the side, this “cutlet” looked as if you had at least ten thousand in your hands.



“Now we will triple everything in the best possible way,” the woman told the lebez, and had already turned towards the kitchen.



“Sorry,” Deimos said quietly, “surrender.”



- What?



“I gave you a five,” he said, smiling slightly.



- So what?“The café worker already thought of going on the offensive.”



- You yourself said that the score is three forty.



- Ah! Yes!- She tried to portray surprise and reluctantly threw four coins into the plastic. - Completely forgot! - Falsely smiling the saleswoman continued.



Deimos just smiled sluggishly and nodded in response.



He and Adikia settled down at a table not far from the entrance, gently shoving the knapsacks under the table. After a few minutes on their table were glasses with brown slurry, called tea here. Having drank a little, Deimos was pleasantly surprised: of course, there was no real tea here, but this collection of flowers and herbs came to his liking.



“There’s mint here,” he said.



- What?- Not understanding, asked Adikia.



“I say there is mint in the tea,” Deimos repeated, “not bad at all.”



“Yeah," Adikia agreed, "if you're talking about what I think about, then yes, not bad."



- Have you tasted anything mint?



“Somehow it never happened,” she replied.



After another couple of minutes, they put a plate with two moist, hot bread rolls on the table.



“Let's have a bite and go,” Adikia Deimos said.



- Where?- Asked the girl.



Deimos chewed a piece of tasteless, almost rubber roll and washed down with tea.



- Power corrupts, you know?



“Of course I know,” the girl replied.



“So there’s only one way,” Deimos continued playfully, “we’ll go play cards.”



***



Melissa took a teapot on the kitchen, three glasses and headed to Ivor’s office.



The way Deimos and Adikia left did not fit the woman in the head.



“I started to grovel about executions and suddenly I was screwed into the sunset ... We will have serious troubles.”



The installation, which gave workers and residents of the center of Deimos, was still active, but Melissa understood that sooner or later she, and especially Matt and Oliver, would begin to notice her. And if for Melissa it did not threaten anything serious, since she was an operator, her comrades were in grave danger.



“Soon it will be necessary to leave,” she thought.



When she returned, Matt and Mike had already spoken.



- So your name is Michael, right? - Matt asked at the moment when Melissa entered the office.



“Yes,” Ivor replied, “my real name is Mikhail Ivorinets, which, after arriving in the States, was transformed into Mike Ivor.”



“But you don’t have an accent at all,” Matt was surprised, “I would never say that you are a foreigner.”



“It took a long time to perfect the pronunciation,” the surgeon chuckled, “but I had enough of it.”



He drew attention to Melissa and pointed to the edge of the table, where he should put her "loot".



“So what should you tell us?” “Matt asked one more question,” what did Deimos insist on?



- I do not even know where to start. - The old surgeon pulled a whisper of tea out of the pack and poured it into glasses, as if drawing time. - A lot of things, in fact. But first, I will ask a counter question: Matthew, do you know what happened to your younger brother?



Matt changed face. He had buried James many years ago and tried not to remember him.



“Just don’t say that the bastard is still alive,” the old commander said.



“Oh yes,” Ivor answered, pouring boiling water over the glasses and covering them with a folder for papers, “he is alive.” True, I’m not completely sure that I know why it was you who reacted this way to the mention of him.



Melissa looked at Matt. The old commander seemed to have aged ten years in an instant. Now, in the dimmed cabinet lighting, all the wrinkles on his face were visible better than usual, which added to his age.



“First tell you, Matthew, who is your brother,” Ivor continued.



Matt inhaled, gathering his strength, glanced at Mike, who knows where his brother was from, knows Melissa, as if assessing whether he could believe her enough to tell about this part of his passed, and began:



- James and I stood at the origins of the resistance movement, ”said Matt,“ you truly remember, Mike, the time when you were shot on the spot for stealing a kilo of rice. ” Having seen enough of these atrocities of the junta of that time, we began to organize a partisan movement ...



Matt broke off, recalling those far-distant times.

- James has always been weak. Not in spirit, no, physically. I do not know whom he went to, probably, to our mother, and not to his father, like me, but his frailty only kindled anger and lust for power in him. And if you multiply everything by the mores of that time - he very quickly turned from a nice guy into a fiend of hell.



Matt reached out, took off the folder and took one of the glasses.



“At some point, I no longer understood whether we were resistance or just a gang of marauders, but I could not do anything about it.” Then I met Oliver and concentrated on his progress, to have an extra vote on the advice of commanders against James, but he left.



- Is it yourself? - Ivor asked with a hint.



- Well, myself. At a certain point, his methods crossed the invisible line, the line after which there is no turning back. And I put him before a choice: either I will shoot him, or he fails and I never see him again. He chose the latter. And after his place in the headquarters took Oliver.



- That is, the progenitor of the shock corps was James? - Surprise asked the surgeon.



“Yes,” answered Matt, “Oliver initially simply took command ...” “The man faltered,” he was still green, for such responsibility, I simply plugged a hole in the ranks of the commanding staff. Why did you even ask about James?



Ivor silently picked up his glass of tea and took a few large sips.



- “Eye” is an ambiguous project and we would never have received what is in this center, and the center itself, without powerful patronage from above. “Ivor put down his glass and continued,” more precisely, without a very influential patron of, say, one or several Council members.



“You want to say ...” Matt began, but Ivor interrupted him:



“Yes, Matthew.” This patron is James Harris and, judging by the description, it is your younger brother.



Matt jumped up, at the same time knocking over a chair, grabbed a pistol from his holster and pointed it at Mike Ivor.



- Oh, you scum! You knew from the very beginning who I was, still there, in the basement, where I found you!



Melissa only silently watched what was happening, completely unaware of which side she should take in this situation.



“Yes,” Ivor agreed, “I knew.” I will say more, it was James who brought you to the capital, back after you found Oliver in the ghetto.



The puzzle of what is happening in recent weeks began to develop in Matt in the head into a single picture.



- Oh, you soo ... - Began the old commander.



At that moment, Ivor nodded to Melissa briefly, with just one hint from them.



The woman complied.



She broke into Matt's mind and did not let the trigger pull.



“Well done, Melly, I always knew that James knew how to choose people,” Ivor got up from his seat and pulled the gun out of Matt’s stiff hand, “you don’t need it anymore, Matthew.



“What are you doing, creature,” the old commander croaked. It was incredibly difficult to talk, but Melissa, nevertheless, allowed him to do it - and you, bitch, why - he now turned to a woman, a moment ago whom he trusted as a comrade.



“You missed out on past events, sir,” Melissa replied in a slightly shaky voice, “that not a single operator would have helped the insurgent commanders just like that.” Sorry, but I had an order from them - she nodded at Ivora, implying the latter and James Harris - I am very sorry, sir, but I am a soldier.



“Good girl,” Ivor smiled at the woman and sat back in his chair, hiding Matt's gun in the drawer, “I promised Deimos that I would tell you everything, Matt.” This order is still beating in my head, and I cannot oppose it, but our god did not give any other instructions.

---

In order to keep readers abreast of the pace of work, and just to chat without fear of being hit by a banhammer on a GT, or else, if you do not have an active account, I created a group in the VK open spaces dedicated to the “Eye” project . We are already one and a half thousand people!



Welcome.



Criticism, ratings, discussions and feedback in the comments, as always, are extremely welcome.

Part 20