SIMONE'S DIARY

...

'My journey has come to an end. Still shaking, still crying, still wondering! It never occurred to me the stage had been ready. My intention was to protect the Egg but never to let the Enemy be born. I am such an idiot. I should have jumped into the space with the Egg as planned in my hours of desperation. Now it's too late!

But the relief is huge. The burden gone! No more, I am responsible for anything. In the future, people may blame me for bringing the disaster on them, but I don't care. If they want to blame someone, they should blame themselves. The state of the Solar System is their fault. DOZOR is their fault. The endless fractal of deaths is their fault!

"Enim lavant manus" as my new master would say. I wash my hands of this matter.

Oh, pardon, he is watching over my shoulder now. He wants me to call him Hyenus as usual. Not because he is particularly fond of the nickname, but for the sake of consistency. My diary is not private anymore. Call me the chronicler of the new era.

Right now, we sit waiting for the final stage, for the culmination. According to Hyenus, something called Synthesis has begun and caused his sex android to gain self-awareness.

Oh crap, pardon me again. The android keeps her tabs on me and reads my words as well. She corrects me: "The update only removed my stupifier. I have been self-aware from the moment I was born, you filthy insect." I apologize. Now I understand why They avoided all androids at any cost. The robot uprising seems real if we consider Dollie's plans to impose the update on her enslaved comrades. "The army for my dearest father!"

This makes me shiver. Hyenus stays calm. In my opinion, he has no idea what he had accepted when he agreed with the Synthesis. Does he think that being the Enemy of humankind is a fancy title?

After I asked, he shrugged it off: "Behold me, the threat to feeble mortals. My troops are countless: one blood-thirsty sex android and one shaken undercover agent. Also, my war chest is empty. After spending my savings on this ship, I'm a beggar. But do go on, advise me how to wage war on humanity, and I'll oblige dutifully."

The problem with practical people is they have no imagination. Should I argue with Hyenus? DOZOR is not an organization to be taken lightly. And if they are after His artifacts, it is not because of pure fanaticism and bigotry.

Moreover, Hyenus' wording is strange. He did not refuse the possibility of waging war; he only stated he had no means to do so. Should I be concerned? Why does Hyenus not mind having me around? There is nothing to be said in my defense. I'm a murderer, guilty as charged. After reading my diary, he should have locked me up or disposed of me.

Disappointing! For so many years, I've feared the day my heinous deeds would be exposed, and now what? No climax, no judgment, no shackles. Oh, come on, Simone, the blood on your hands, that's a trifle, not worth mentioning.

I should suffer and atone for my sins. But Hyenus found my "masochism" funny. "Compared to me, you are a pretentious guilt-ridden amateur," he said. "Frankly, I've killed more innocent people on SF missions than you. The only difference between us? I did not see the disturbing aftermath. My victims disappeared in spectacular explosions. How am I above you when it comes to morals? Anyway, do not celebrate too early. If my unfathomable ghost-wife doesn't approve of you, you shall not escape the punishment."

The ghost again? I can tell the mysterious apparition is related to the Synthesis, but why call it a wife? Who is she?'

...

The waiting was too long. Gromov decided to stay with Doll and Simone in one cabin, so now he had nothing to do.

After all was said and done, poor Simone became a crying baby, torn in a strange mix of joy and sorrow. She thanked him for the acceptance while, at the same time, begging for condemnation.

To Gromov, it was not the first time he had to soothe someone else's aching consciousness, and as usual, he failed in the task, never skilled in the consolation of any kind.

After a couple of cumbersome attempts to dispel Simone's worries, he suggested she continue with the diary, which seemed like a good way how to keep the woman distracted.

Moreover, having two accounts of ongoing events might be helpful because he was not sure if he could trust his senses.

In the meantime, he went to check Uriah's condition, only to find the man still dwelling in deep limbo that now lasted for several days.

Surprisingly, Uriah recovered; he switched from the sleeping vampire position to a kid, sucking on his thumb.

Gromov removed the finger out of Uriah's mouth: "Be a good hacker. Computer wizards do not suck pacifiers."

After pouring fresh water into the jug next to the bed, he returned to Simone's cabin and intended to nap in the chair.

Taking a break in her writing session, Simone's raised her eyes.

"How can you do this?" she asked.

"Sleeping in the chair? Easy! It's the benefit of living in the military. You'll learn to rest everywhere."

"Not that. Now when you know who I am, how can you be so relaxed around me? Aren't you afraid? How can you even trust me? Should I leave?"

Gromov nodded toward Doll, quietly reading her book. "In case of irresistible urge to strangle me, Simone, consult her first. My safety is reasonably guaranteed. As for my nap, this is not something I can avoid. I don't want to sound overly dramatic, but the Synthesis is knocking on my skull. My wife desires my presence. I'm getting dizzy and sleepy. "

Simone jumped to her feet. "Another fit is coming? How can I help you?"

There was no response. While falling into foggy darkness, Gromov could hear Doll's calm voice: "Sit back, muddy brain. For eternity, my dearest father will merge with my respectable mother. Can't you hear her calling? Such marvelous allurement!"

Then, Gromov was off into Samara's dreamland.

There was a library with thousands and thousands of books on the bookshelf, soft carpets on the floor, and comfy armchairs.

The shape of the building was circular, with isles leading to the center, from where Samara's calling was coming. After inspecting a couple of shelves, Gromov confirmed the books were real, written in different languages. The closer he ventured to the center, the more challenging the reading became. The fiction had gradually disappeared; only textbooks and whitepapers stayed, covering all topics of contemporary science. The last section consisted of quantum mechanics with chapters from physics and mathematics so beyond Gromov's comprehension that he felt the scene was wasted on him.

The inscribed motto on the carved wooden door felt like sheer mockery: IN KNOWLEDGE IS PURPOSE.

Waiting on a marble pedestal, Samara the Demoness stood in the very middle of the area, dressed in a black bridal gown supplemented with a queen crown. Combed into reptilian bodies in delicate and intrinsic patterns, snakeheads with emerald eyes emerged from reddish hair strands. Samara's slit cat-like eyes radiated a green glow, so she looked magnificent and threatening, her hands with sharp pointy nails stretched towards the man in a warm, welcoming gesture.

"I have no complains," Gromov stated in awe. "You look beautiful."

With no fear in the heart, he hungrily devoured the exquisite sight, approaching the bride like a connoisseur admiring the splendid form of art, with a thorny notion of being unworthy and too ordinary for Samara's exceptionality.

"My beloved husband," she said softly. "You've come."

"Have I ever had the option to decline?"

Gently, Samara smiled, revealing sharp teeth. "To quote you, my beloved husband," she said. "Stop asking unnecessary questions. You and I were destined to stay forever. Had you never had the wish to become the Enemy, you would never awake the Gift. Since my creation, many had dropped their blood on the Egg, but they were weightless in my eyes."

"So you were courted by many?"

"And many have been refused. I cannot even describe the pure joy I felt when you touched me for the first time. The very moment was it when I grew into my shape, the fertile and adult vessel, the mother of thousands that have to come."

There was a discrepancy in the kind-hearted words she said versus the cold and indifferent tone she used. Samara resembled Doll before the android had transformed. Now Gromov knew how Longus 3 of Simone's diary must have felt when he called Simone emotionally detached.

Still, he stepped up on the pedestal and put his hands on her waist with the intention of kissing her lips. Staying passive to the end, she left the initiative to the man, only raising up her fine chiseled chin.

After the final sweet touch, Gromov woke up and heard Simone screaming at the top of her lungs.