The Decaying Dream of America: I Assemble Corpses and Confront Madness

We wholeheartedly recommend this book to you: *The Rotten Dream of America: I Assembled Corpses to Face Madness*, available here.

Theodore Sterling's steady footsteps disappeared at the end of the corridor, then were completely swallowed up by the soft click of the electronic lock.

The lingering scent of expensive perfume in the office was like an invisible snake, coiling around Isabella's neck, cold and suffocating.

Her back suddenly went limp, as if her bones had been removed, and she collapsed violently into the large office chair.

Sweat beaded on his forehead soaked his hair, bringing a sticky, chilly feeling.

The feeling of exhaustion after the adrenaline receded washed over her like a tidal wave, making her almost unable to stand, while her heart continued to pound violently in her chest, like a trapped wild beast.

The slight tremor in her fingertips betrayed the true impact of the intense standoff just now, as if she had just survived a battlefield without gunfire.

She took a deep breath, trying to inhale the cold air, but found that the palpitation lingered for a long time.

Without wasting a second, she quickly unplugged the USB drive from the modified tactical terminal and then completely erased the terminal's data logs.

The data stream that was flashing on the screen was instantly cleared, and any trace pointing to her illegal activities vanished, as if nothing had ever happened.

She even carefully wiped the terminal screen and the edge of her desk with a microfiber cloth to ensure that no fingerprints or biological residues were left for analysis.

This deep-seated vigilance is an instinct developed over many years of experience as a secret agent, and it is also the foundation for her survival to this day despite the company's layers of surveillance.

Isabella then pulled out another heavily encrypted portable communication device from the lining of her jacket.

It looks like an ordinary personal data storage device, but it contains a special channel established by the "Dreambreaker" network.

She skillfully inserted the USB drive she had just used and started the data transfer program.

Key intelligence, including Finch Labs’ complete security blueprint, internal staff schedules, blind spots in surveillance, energy supply systems, and core research plans, was rapidly transmitted in encrypted form through the “secret channel” hidden beneath layers of network protocols.

Each byte contains the location where Lin Zheng was imprisoned, as well as all the "keys" needed to rescue him.

She knew perfectly well that this data was invaluable, enough to overturn Professor Finch's years-long "utopian" project plan, and might even completely expose the internal disagreements within the company's senior management regarding the project.

The progress bar moved forward slowly but steadily, each tick like a countdown, calculating the risks she would have to take in the future.

Every second of this process felt like it was stretched out for a century, making her feel like the air in her lungs was being rapidly depleted.

She could even hear the sound of her own blood flowing, a tension that exceeded her physiological limits.

Isabella felt a real wave of dizziness when the green "Transfer Complete" message finally lit up on the terminal screen.

She breathed a long sigh of relief, finally finding an outlet for the tension and anxiety that had been suppressed for so long.

She quickly packed up all the equipment, carefully hiding them back inside her jacket, her movements fluid, as if she were simply performing a routine task.

Isabella walked to the floor-to-ceiling window in her office, where the night view of the Federal Capital unfolded before her.

The city lights, like countless shattered stars, stretch into the distance, outlining a massive skeleton of reinforced concrete on a dark canvas.

Those shimmering lights once symbolized the "American Dream" she was taught from childhood: order, prosperity, and success that everyone can achieve through hard work.

However, at this moment, in her eyes, these lights were more like a giant spider web, with each point of light being a soul trapped within it, unconsciously providing nourishment to some enormous being.

She was once a staunch guardian of this network, believing that her duty was to maintain stability and eliminate all "abnormalities".

But now, she is creating a crack in this "stable web" herself.

Outside the window, on a giant holographic GG sign, a smiling family is enjoying a perfect life, their images overlapping with their reflections in the windowpane.

Her reflection was blurry and weary, a stark contrast to the false happiness on the GG card.

She was no longer Theodore Sterling's loyal agent, nor the brainwashed elite of the "Dream Builder" class.

She is a double agent walking a tightrope, a "dream breaker," shouldering a mission far greater than her personal safety.

What she wants to break is not only the predicament Lin Zheng is facing, but also the false order built by lies and exploitation in this entire city and even the entire country.

This belief, stronger than any material temptation, enabled her to withstand the ever-present threat of death.

She knew that from this moment on, there was no turning back.

She blended into the darkness of the city, and no one knew where she was going or what role she would play.

That blurry figure, full of unknowns and dangers, left behind a thought-provoking question, as if silently asking: What is this woman fighting for?

Her future, like the deep night sky, is both fraught with danger and full of infinite possibilities.

The city's clamor fades into the night, its pulse throbbing in the dark river, inextricably linking Isabella's pinnacle of power with a resistance organization lurking in some shadowy corner.

Also swallowed by the city's massive body, far from the bustling core of the Federal Capital, an abandoned warehouse on the edge of Emerald Dream City is now witnessing a different scene.

This area used to be the edge of an industrial zone, filled with abandoned shipping containers and rusty machine parts, and the air was thick with the damp smell of rust and decay.

However, behind an inconspicuous, graffiti-covered iron gate lies a makeshift safe house.

The heavy explosion-proof steel door has been modified and covered with a layer of rough industrial canvas, isolating it from the outside world.

Inside the room, the simple furniture was pieced together from discarded wooden planks and steel frames, and a few emergency lights emitted a dim yellow light, dividing the space into mottled shadows.

A large encrypted communication device occupied the center of the room, with a steady green indicator light and dense digital codes flashing on the screen.

Various professional tools were scattered around, including signal jammers, infrared scanners, and even some unregistered biological monitoring devices.

The ashtrays were overflowing with cigarette butts, and the air was thick with the unique smell of cheap coffee and clothes that hadn't been washed for days—all signs that the residents had just experienced a long wait and a period of intense stress.

Ava Sterling stood in front of the monitor, her platinum blonde hair appearing somewhat distorted in the dim light, her face expressionless.

Her fingers tapped lightly on the keyboard, the characters on the screen changing rapidly under her fingertips, finally settling on a confirmation message.

"Data received, complete and intact." Her voice was calm and clear, like a pebble thrown into a stagnant pool, breaking the dull silence that permeated the safe house.

As soon as Ava finished speaking, a suppressed cheer erupted from the safe house.

The cheers were low and short, yet filled with the joy of surviving a catastrophe and the relief of a heavy burden, like a hole being torn open in the heavy dark clouds, letting in a long-awaited ray of sunshine.

Arthur Morgan gripped the whiskey glass tightly, the clear liquid nearly spilling from his trembling fingertips.

He let out a long breath, his tense shoulders finally relaxed, and the tired wrinkles on his face smoothed out a bit.

That sip of whiskey tasted less bitter and more liberating than usual.

Evelyn Reed smiled with relief; her taut nerves, like a string stretched to its limit, were finally released.

She took off her black-rimmed glasses and rubbed her dry eyes, but the dark circles under her eyes were hard to hide.

The long-standing worry for Lin Zheng's safety has now turned into a glimmer of hope.

They all knew that this was only the first step in rescuing Lin Zheng, but the success of this first step was enough to ignite the dying flame in their hearts.

Ava did not linger in the brief joy of victory; her gaze quickly returned to the core mission.

At the center of the communication equipment, the blueprint of Finch Labs unfolds slowly in the air as a holographic projection, like a miniature, complex mechanical maze.

It presents itself as a cold and rigorous scientific research complex that transcends the scope of ordinary biological laboratories, its design filled with the mechanical beauty of the industrial age and the dark abyss of technology.

The blueprint is densely marked with various details, from the deployment of the external high-voltage power grid to the air pressure balance system of the internal biological isolation zone, and even the wall thickness of each laboratory floor is accurate to the centimeter.

Various high-tech security systems are interwoven into an impenetrable net: infrared laser arrays, biometric access control capable of instantly vaporizing any intruder, and even psychological stress sensors designed to detect any awakened individuals attempting to break in.

One area, labeled "Life Support Core," caught Evelyn's full attention.

What is shown there is a complex life support system used to maintain extremely fragile and sensitive biological samples.

Its energy consumption reached an astonishing level, far exceeding the capacity of ordinary laboratories, suggesting that Professor Finch's ongoing experiment was of an extraordinary scale and was extremely dangerous.

These unsettling details sent a warning signal to Evelyn's intuition.

Ava lightly tapped the energy node projected in the air with her fingertips, her tone calm and collected, like a commander strategizing on the battlefield.

"Evelyn, conduct an in-depth analysis of these blueprints immediately. I need a detailed report on all potential entry points and traps."

The focus is on details of energy supply and staff scheduling, including midnight maintenance shifts, shift change times, and any potential security gaps.

We must take advantage of their most relaxed moment, when their defenses are at their weakest.

Her words were concise and to the point; every instruction was direct and to the core, demonstrating her exceptional strategic vision and control.

Evelyn immediately threw herself into her work, putting on her specially designed analytical glasses and beginning intensive annotations and calculations on the blueprint.

She is a forensic pathologist, familiar with the structure and vulnerabilities of the human body, and now she is extending that knowledge to inanimate steel and electrical circuits.

She tried to find the patterns in Professor Finch's experiments from the cold engineering blueprints, and to guess how he used modern biotechnology to distort the most basic bottom line of life.

The focused yet melancholic expression returned to her face. Her white coat looked somewhat worn under the dim light, yet it exuded an undeniable air of professionalism.

"Arthur," Ava turned to Arthur, her tone softening slightly but remaining firm, "you'll be in charge of the preliminary work for on-site reconnaissance."

Leverage your experience familiar with the undercurrents of urban life to find our safest entry point, whether it's abandoned underground pipes or those urban nooks and crannies overlooked by the authorities.

Professor Finch's laboratory must be heavily protected; we cannot break in head-on.

Arthur Morgan rubbed his face, put the whiskey glass aside, and gazed out the window with a deep look in his eyes.

The night outside was so thick it seemed impossible to break through, and the sounds of the city vibrated in the air, as if mocking his powerlessness.

He recalled his years chasing criminals in the slums, how desperate people would do anything to survive, and how those forgotten corners of the law were always more likely to harbor filth than the glamorous surface.

He knew that people like Professor Finch, who were high and mighty, usually only focused on impressive data and cold theories, but often ignored those living in the shadows and those abandoned physical spaces.

His old Chevrolet sedan, his ragtag network of informants, and his shoes that had traversed every filthy corner of the city would now become their weapons against the elite.

"I understand. Find those forgotten corners, those places not marked on official maps."

Finch is the kind of person who always thinks he can control everything beneath the glamorous surface. But the underground pipes and abandoned smuggling routes are the real keys.” Arthur’s voice was low, carrying a weariness and determination born of experience.

Ava's gaze swept over the blueprint again, her brows furrowing almost imperceptibly.

She reminded everyone, "Although we have successfully obtained intelligence, this is only the tip of the iceberg; the real challenges are yet to come."

Her eyes darted across the blueprints of Finch Labs as she considered the next strategy. The entire plan of action was running at high speed in her mind like a finely tuned gear.

However, despite successfully obtaining crucial intelligence, a lingering shadow still loomed over the nascent hope within the safe house.

Arthur Morgan would glance at Ava every now and then, then at the quiet communication device.

Why would Isabella Rossi, from the Department of Reality Stability, take such a big risk to pass on intelligence?

Her motives and her ultimate loyalty remain a huge, unresolved question mark for them.

After all, within the "American Dream" company, the cost of betrayal is often more brutal and unpredictable than death.

Has Professor Finch realized that the blueprints have been stolen? What countermeasures will he take?

Theodore Sterling's suspicion of Professor Finch, and the potential countermeasures Finch might take, pose a potential threat.

The power struggle between these two giants could affect them at any time.

This shadow quietly fell upon the team's nascent hope, reminding them that the road ahead was shrouded in mist.

Ava tapped her fingertips lightly on one of the areas marked "Energy Core," her eyes deep and solemn.

She said in a low voice to Arthur and Evelyn, "We have the key. Now, we will use it to pry open the gates of hell."

Her voice was calm, echoing in the quiet safe house.