Gromov was not impressed when he read the epitaph aloud. Then, he realized three disturbing points he did not take into account.

First, Samara referred to The Emperor In The Mask as her creator, which could (at least partially) confirm the theories of Khamal and Simone.

As for the latter's reaction, Gromov's second point came with the realization that Simone would jump out of her skin if she saw Samara and her demonic appearance.

Fortunately, once Simone had heard those words, she reacted like a timid rabbit, hugged Gromov tightly, and buried her face against his body, blind and deaf to anything.

This led to the third point, which Samara had called him. Husband, was it? Gromov thought. In the dream, I've proposed to her, promised a few extremities, and as it appears, I've gotten myself married.

Putting aside trifles like antagonizing all human race and ruling over the Solar System, does it mean my new wife caught me in flagrante? Should I explain myself?

Gromov eyed Samara carefully, but she did not mind the matter at all.

"My time here is limited, husband," she said. "I came to inform you about our progress. The synthesis continues according to the schedule. Expect the full integration in twenty hours."

Her speech sounded like a report given to a superior, so he nodded silently, gently pushing Simone's head on his chest.

"She can't hear or see me," Samara informed Gromov indifferently. "Her data needs further analysis, but stay aware that her vocalized expressions do not match her mental images."

"Eh?"

Vocalized expressions do not match her mental images? Does it mean Simone lied to me? Gromov pondered after several seconds of deciphering the message.

"Not exactly, husband. It is too early for a conclusion, but the woman has goals she didn't share with you. Your intentions are not fully compatible."

Gromov was closing a very unhealthy fit of panic. Talk about telepathy between married couples! Can she read my thoughts?

"Not exactly, husband. You and I are one. We are two self-aware units with a direct communication channel."

Splendid! So what about her and my mental images?

"Based on my observation, yours are located on the more primitive part of the spectrum. I can recognize shame and shock, while just a few minutes ago, it was growing sexual desire, now receding. Why is it, husband?"

Let's call it an understandable instinct of a caught man, Gromov smirked. What about her specter?

"Mostly fear and disgust on the lower end. On the higher level, she seems to rely on the reactions of your body to proceed with a plan related to her future. Its purpose is unclear."

Fear and disgust? Gromov's ego deflated suddenly from a balloon of Casanova's size to shrunk rubber. Welcome to reality, Mr. Womenizer. There is no fool like an old fool, apparently.

"Do not worry, husband. Tomorrow I'll be able to stimulate the human brain to desired effects," Samara comforted him. "Now, my time's up. Wait, and soon I'll be with you for eternity."

After that, Samara parted emotionlessly, dematerializing in thin air. Only Gromov and Simone stayed in the room, still interlocked together, yet on Gromov's side with more conflicted perturbations on his mental images.

"For eternity?" Gromov uttered. "This is a long heck of a time, isn't it?"

"Whatever," he continued and pushed Simone away. "Gone are sweet ten minutes of my life. Let's get back to my jaded, unromantic self."

Since the woman did not resist, Gromov thought she welcomed the abrupt end of their passionate encounter with relief.

"Please, sit down, Miss Yeuxbleu. We need to talk. May I ask you to explain to me the alleged legacy of The Emperor In The Mask? You can start with that awful poetry. Are you disgusted because it is so cringeworthy?"

He put a strong emphasis on the word 'disgusted,' even though he knew he was being childish.

His cold undertone confused the woman. "Why are you calling me Miss Yeuxbleu as of sudden? What happened, Sava? And how do you know the epitaph? And by heart more to that!"

"We all have our little secrets," Gromov proclaimed meaningfully.

"I thought we were going to..."

"A mistake on my part! I have no excuse. You haven't recovered yet, so I, as a captain of the ship, have to bear full responsibility. I'll punish myself later. Gravely!"

"But... We are both adult people, Sava."

"Yes, and I am about ten years more adult than you, so certain Captain Gromov will suffer for behaving like an idiot."

"Am I missing something? You seem angry."

"No big deal," sighed Gromov. "Look, Simone, let's get back to normal. I'm not angry or anything. I just need to know more about the egg. What is it? Is it a threat to my ship? Why do you want to get rid of it?"

"Why don't you ask Khamal?"

"I've already listened to his version. Not helpful. Too much jibberish. Now it's your turn. Be so kind and skip the parts with the guy who has been dead for five hundred years."

"Impossible!"

"Why?"

"Because the egg is one of the artifacts your dead guy left behind. Remember the first verse: My gift to awake. After his death, the ICD Empire's bases stayed scattered over the Solar System in unknown locations. Over time, a few of them were discovered."

"Never heard of it."

"Of course, you haven't. Their existences have always been top secret."

"Sure. But you, Khamal, and the whole Brown's readership know about them."

"I was referring only to the bases that were found by accident, by people who had published their discovery before the DOZOR silenced them."

"The DOZOR again? This is going nowhere. Let's change the narrator. I'll reiterate what I think you believe in, and you correct me if I get something wrong."

"If you insist. Frankly, I hate talking about this stuff, Sava. But do go on."

"So, there was a war between people and The Emperor In The Mask, right?"

"A hidden war with no coverage in the press. The media were not allowed to report it. Officially, the ICD Empire only defended itself in the court."

"But the emperor (let's call him so though it is a bit preposterous) found a way how to reach a broader audience?"

Gromov summarized what he had learned from Brown's book and Zhutra's long monologue.

"Yes," Simone nodded. "He could access any computer connected to his ICD network. He was occasionally broadcasting, not on a regular basis. He informed netizens about the progress of the war and demanded his subjects punish the perpetrators."

"And so-called subjects obliged?"

"Yes. Some common folks thought he was a god."

"Because employees of the ICD Empire killed in the war were revived afterward?"

"Exactly. You are an ex-SF officer. Have you ever wondered where the Advanced Nations got their life backups from?"

"Life backups? Seriously? Is there any technology we use today that was not invented by that guy?"

"When it comes to our understanding and exploiting of quantum mechanics, then no."

"I won't ask you to prove your claim. Let's call it magic. He was omnipotent and omniscient, but still, he had lost the war."

"No, he won the war!" Simone stumped her foot impatiently. "Why you can't understand such a basic premise, you moron! Every digital transfer was under his control. Laugh as much as you want, but the omniscience was in his reach. The governments which fought the ICD Empire were replaced by his puppets. With his power, he could manipulate elections as he wished. Pray, tell me, how he could possibly lose the war? Tell me - or just face that you don't have the capacity to comprehend simple facts."

Seeing her getting angry, Gromov felt this was the first time he could meet the real Simone Yeuxbleu, the one who truly believed in fairy tales and was concerned about the whole humanity with no care for individuals; shortly put, she was a fanatic.

Perhaps one of those keyboard warriors who screamed nonstop on social platforms, calling out strangers for their words and posting jewels of resolute intolerance: "It's not me, it's you who need to shut up because as a woman, I don't need your opinion." or "I welcome a discussion, but if you voted for the resolution, you are an idiot."

"Now I'm confused, Simone," he sighed. "Wasn't it you who told me something about his bitter end?"

"You should have finished Brown's book," she retorted briskly. "Otherwise, you would know the war had ended in mere ten years. After that, he became an unofficial ruler of the Solar System, pulling the string from behind. No one opposed him anymore. The commoners were told the ICD Empire had been fined for abuse of the monopoly. New communication companies were established to give fools like you an illusion that the free market worked. Unauthorized broadcasting had stopped."

"But?"

"But the emperor stayed unrestrained. His people kept building new research facilities, throwing them into the deep space like there was no tomorrow. Imagine hundreds of automatized stations hidden somewhere with no clear purpose. The life backups were found on one of them. Plantarian virus has been born on another one."

"So even Plantarian threat is involved. Why not, indeed! But why, Simone, why?"

"Because he was a monster."

"You mean a madman?"

"No, a monster," Simone repeated. "The goal on his mind was to create an ultimate being, the enemy of humankind."

"I thought he was this enemy."

"And you thought wrong. He was not a mass murderer; he had no blood on his hands. His followers or subjects killed a few politicians, but he never approved of any of their killings. It stays unclear what punishment he deemed appropriate for those who had opposed him."

"So he was a saint?"

Surprisingly, the sarcasm missed its target as Simone gave him a thumb up: "Your first sensible sentence, Sava. Yes, he was a saint! A saint that turned into a monster! And this is why I hate him!"