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

Author Old Alley Postman is waiting for you with "Rotten Dreams of America: I Assemble Corpses and Face Madness".

Lin Zheng felt a tearing pain in his lungs. With Lina's help, he staggered out from the depths of the collapsed Finch Laboratory ruins.

Semi-conscious Arthur Morgan leaned on Lena's shoulder, his heavy body like rotten wood, dragging the two of them with every step.

They trudged across the cold, slippery gravel, the sharp sound of metal scraping against rubble echoing beneath their feet, each sound like the painful roar of some indescribable creature.

Besides the acrid smell of gunpowder, the air was also filled with a strong, sweet, rusty smell—a deathly aura unique to the "Reality Distortion Zone," a mixture of coke, blood, and rotting matter.

Lin Zheng barely managed to lift his eyes and saw the shattered night sky hanging low, its towering silhouettes cast by the edges of the ruins, fragmented into pieces.

The city's boundaries were mercilessly sliced ​​apart by countless bright, brutal beams of searchlight, like cold, gleaming blades searching in the darkness.

The low rumble of propellers came from afar, making my eardrums ache. The sound grew closer, foreshadowing the arrival of the aerial pursuers.

On the horizon, several black company patrol cars, like lurking behemoths, silently approached, their headlights like the eyes of predators, piercing the night and pointing directly in their direction.

The sirens rose and fell in the pre-dawn stillness, growing louder as they approached, forming an invisible net that was slowly tightening, capturing every fleeing life.

Lin Zheng felt as if all his strength had been drained away, but he remained vigilant, his eyes fixed on the front, like a tired hare being chased by a hound.

Arthur's revolver was still hanging on his waist, but in his semi-conscious state, it was more like a useless lead weight, symbolizing the complete decline of his former power.

Lina's special combat suit was covered in grayish-white dust, and several deep, visible scratches were shocking on the outer shell of the energy shield on her chest, clearly indicating that she had also experienced an extremely fierce battle.

Her breathing was rapid and heavy, her hair was wet with sweat and clung tightly to her forehead, and despite her exhaustion, her eyes still burned with anxiety and defiance.

The three stumbled along, each breath a tearing pain. Lin Zheng's spirit was like a bowstring stretched to its limit, on the verge of snapping at any moment; his body and mind teetered on the brink of collapse under the immense pressure.

The former glory and extravagance of the Finch Laboratory are now nothing but a graveyard of steel and concrete, burying countless hopes and dreams that have been swallowed up.

This place was once the heart of a "utopian dream," but now, under the violent intervention of reality, it presents an incomprehensible physical distortion.

Lin Zheng could "see" the energy fragments floating in the air. They were not just dust, but remnants of spiritual imprints that had been violently torn apart, carrying the sharp wails of trapped souls.

This sensory overload pushed his already fragile sanity to the brink of collapse once more. A severe headache gripped his head like an iron clamp, attempting to crush his consciousness completely. He knew perfectly well that the longer he stayed in this distorted reality, the deeper the mental pollution would become, and the line between reality and illusion would become completely blurred.

"They're faster than we thought," Lina said hoarsely, with a hint of despair, as she tried to straighten Arthur's swaying body.

She felt her fingertips touch the bloodstains soaking into his trench coat, sticky and cold, and her anxiety grew daily. Lina understood that the fall of Finch's laboratory was just the beginning; the real crisis had only just started, and Arthur's injuries undoubtedly exacerbated their predicament.

"We must... find a way out..." Lin Zheng responded in a low voice, his throat dry, each word as if it were being ground out with sand.

Just then, a powerful beam of headlights suddenly pierced the darkness in the distance. It wasn't from the company's patrol car; its direction was unexpected, and it abruptly tore through the cordon surrounding the ruins.

It was a heavily modified all-terrain vehicle, its rugged lines resembling those of a ferocious beast. Countless scratches and bullet holes marred its armored surface, yet they only served to make it appear more indestructible. Like a black phantom, it broke through the blockade, its engine roaring deafeningly, carrying an aura of crushing destruction. It charged straight at them amidst a hail of bullets and flying debris, its tires gripping the ground with a screeching sound. A barely noticeable "Shadow" emblem was etched on the side of the vehicle, indicating that this was no ordinary rescue mission.

The car door was flung open, and a gust of cold night wind, mixed with the smell of gunpowder, rushed out. A burly, strong-looking man with a short buzz cut poked his head out expressionlessly; his eyes were sharp, as if they could pierce through all fog.

"Get in the car, quick!" The man's voice was deep and powerful, carrying an unquestionable command.

Before Lin Zheng could think, he felt the other person's rough and strong arm grab him and pull him staggeringly into the car.

He struggled to lift the nearly unconscious Arthur, while Lina pushed his body into the carriage from the other side.

At that moment, Lin Zheng felt the strength conveyed by Jeremy Woods' hand, like a stable anchor point. He realized that he was no longer alone; at least for this moment, they had someone to rescue them.

Almost simultaneously, the communicator on Lin Zheng's waist emitted a piercing electrical buzzing sound again, and the signal, after a brief moment of clarity, quickly became blurry.

"I managed to get... less than five minutes... into the communication and surveillance blind spot... quick..." Isabella Rossi's voice came through the receiver, broken and urgent.

"Shhh—" Before she could finish speaking, the signal was completely cut off by the intense interference, leaving only the cold, piercing electrical noise raging in the communicator before falling silent, as if it had never existed.

Lin Zheng's palm, gripping the communicator, was sweating profusely, his knuckles turning white from the excessive force. He knew how special and dangerous Isabella's identity was; to have gained such precious time under the company's tight surveillance, she must have paid a heavy price.

He looked at Lina, whose eyes were also filled with shock and worry. Isabella's sudden disappearance cast a deeper shadow over everyone's hearts.

"The people at the company..." Jeremy Woods' voice was calm, yet it felt like a heavy lead weight had struck his heart. He glanced at the communicator, offering no further explanation, already understanding the opportunity Isabella had secured for them. Jeremy didn't ask any further questions; his gaze was deep and resolute, clearly accustomed to this kind of high-stakes, risky operation.

He slammed the steering wheel all the way to the left, and the all-terrain vehicle's engine roared with a deep rumble as its massive wheels crushed gravel and cement blocks on the ground.

The vehicle suddenly turned around amidst a hail of bullets. The bullets struck the armored body of the modified vehicle with dull "bang" sounds, but failed to penetrate.

"Hold on!" Jeremy roared, slamming on the gas pedal. The car jolted violently, nearly throwing Arthur out of his seat.

The car shot off like an arrow, disappearing into the darkness on the edge of the city, leaving behind the roar of helicopters and the sirens of patrol cars that were constantly approaching from behind.

They left that land of death, and behind them, the ruins of Finch's laboratory let out their final lament during a violent secondary collapse. Dust billowed up like a giant wave, completely engulfing the enormous tomb.

Finch's "utopian vision," along with the false paradise he attempted to construct, had now turned into a distorted dust, leaving only the permanent scars of a distorted reality. Lin Zheng glimpsed that scene through the rearview mirror, feeling no joy of victory, but rather an indescribable sorrow.

The all-terrain vehicle bumped and sped along the rugged dirt roads of the countryside, leaving the three men with almost no remaining strength.

Lin Zheng felt his internal organs churning, and the burning sensation in his lungs made him cough violently, each cough pulling at his injured ribs and causing unbearable pain.

He turned to look out the window, where the city lights rapidly shrank behind him, eventually becoming a blurry band of light.

Instead, there was a pitch-black countryside, where tall shrubs and low bushes appeared distorted and eerie under the sweeping headlights, as if countless prying eyes were hiding there.

The industrial zones on both sides of the highway, with their vast stretches of abandoned factory buildings, resemble the skeletons of a giant beast, silently extending into the night.

The faded signs swayed in the wind, and the dilapidated windows, like empty eye sockets, gazed at this abandoned land.

The smell in the air also changed; it was no longer the burnt and rusty smell of ruins, but the stench of earth, the putrid smell of engine oil, and a kind of indescribable stickiness unique to decaying plants.

This is the unique scent of the Central Rust Belt, a poignant blend of old industrial ruins and forgotten history. This region belongs to those corners abandoned by the "American Dream," a vast "flesh and blood" production ground that fuels the "dream" until it is completely burned out.

Lin Zheng leaned against the car window, each jolt sending a splitting headache through his head, leaving him in a state of extreme tension.

The dying wails and collapsing cries in Finch's illusion, as well as the desperate memories he had read, played on repeat in his mind like maggots clinging to his bones.

He tried to use "Mental Re-engineering," but found his body as weak as if it had been drained, and the depletion of his mental energy made his vision blur. This forced formatting, each time it was performed, was accompanied by a violent depletion of his sanity, making him feel a chill seep into his bones, a fear of having his sense of existence stripped away.

"Are we safe?" Lina's voice was soft, with a hint of tired hoarseness, as she wiped the blood off Arthur's face with a wet wipe.

"Are we safe?" Lina's voice was soft, with a hint of tired hoarseness, as she wiped the blood off Arthur's face with a wet wipe.

Jeremy Woods didn't answer, but focused intently on the dark road ahead, his hands firmly on the steering wheel.

His expression was calm and composed, and every turn and acceleration was precise and decisive, demonstrating his extremely high driving skills.

Inside the carriage, Arthur Morgan's breathing grew weaker and weaker. He leaned against Lena, his face ashen, his eyes tightly closed, and his lips trembling slightly unconsciously.

Lina tore open a section of her specially made combat suit to try to stop the bleeding, but the wound on his shoulder, which was bleeding profusely, continued to split open in a gruesome manner as the body jolted.

She touched Arthur's forehead; it was ice-cold, and anxiety welled up inside her.

"He's lost too much blood and needs to be taken to the hospital as soon as possible," Lina whispered to Lin Zheng, her eyes filled with undisguised worry.

Lin Zheng nodded, feeling an unprecedented sense of powerlessness. For the first time, he truly felt how fragile an individual's life was in the face of such a grand confrontation, like a candle flickering in the wind. However, this sense of powerlessness also ignited a stronger will to resist within him.

At this moment, the communicator on Lin Zheng's waist suddenly lit up again, no longer emitting a noisy electrical interference sound, but a crisp and pleasant connection sound.

Communication has been fully restored, and the signal has become clear and stable.

Ava Sterling's voice came through the encrypted channel, still calm and clear, carrying an aristocratic air that seemed out of place in the environment. This detached composure contrasted sharply with their current disheveled escape, making Lin Zheng realize that the information Ava was about to reveal was no small matter.

"Lin Zheng, can you hear me now?" Ava's voice asked, without any pleasantries, getting straight to the point.

"Okay." Lin Zheng gripped the communicator tightly, his fingertips almost digging into the casing. He knew that what he was about to say would be crucial.

"Very good." Ava paused, as if she were organizing her thoughts or choosing the right words.

"The 'Shadow' team intercepted an anomalous data stream from the remaining data in Finch Labs," she said calmly.

Lin Zheng's heart skipped a beat. The "abnormal data stream" that Ava had mentioned before the communication was interrupted reappeared, causing all the muscles in his body to tense up involuntarily.

"This data stream points to an internal codename: 'Lullaby' project," Ava continued, her speech steady yet carrying an inexplicable sense of pressure.

Lin Zheng felt a chill run down his spine; the word itself made him uneasy.

"The 'Lullaby' project is related to large-scale mental intervention and a specific sonic pattern." Every word Ava spoke was like a nail, deeply hammered into Lin Zheng's mind. Sonic pattern... Various possibilities immediately surfaced in Lin Zheng's mind, trying to outline the vast and sinister silhouette behind this project.

Large-scale mental intervention! These words echoed in his mind, suddenly reminding him of "wide-area mental imprinting and narrative broadcasting," a technology that has long existed and subtly influences human thought.

The difference is that Finch's "Utopia" is an active creation of illusions, while "Lullaby" seems to be more inclined to a passive, large-scale influence.

Lin Zheng recalled those data streams floating in the air, which once carried despair, hope, and deception—the core of the "American Dream."

He recalled the "founding covenant" and the "sacrifice and observance" law upon which the nation depended for survival. At the heart of all national-level sacrificial rituals was the constant creation and destruction of hope in order to produce the most delicious spiritual nourishment—despair.

"Large-scale mental intervention, sound wave mode..." Lin Zheng muttered to himself, his throat becoming increasingly dry from thinking.

Lina's face also turned ashen. As a "Gundam-building" technical worker who had long been in contact with underground intelligence, she had an extraordinary sensitivity to such internal terminology.

"Sound waves... what kind of mind control is that?" Lina asked, her voice filled with barely concealed wariness.

She turned to look at Lin Zheng, hoping to find an answer on his face, but Lin Zheng's expression was equally solemn.

Ava didn't answer immediately, seemingly waiting for them to process the information.

"The project data is very fragmented, and we are still trying to reconstruct it," Ava added calmly, her tone devoid of any emotion.

"We suspect this may be a deeper tool used by the 'American Dream' corporation to maintain the entire sacrificial ritual," Ava said in a statement that sent chills down her spine.

Lin Zheng felt a chill run from his feet to the top of his head. A project that manipulated minds and used sound waves meant that the entire "American Dream" might be even more illusory and meticulously manipulated than they had imagined. He had always thought that the lie of the "American Dream" was based on cultural construction and psychological manipulation, but he never expected that it could have such direct and covert technological support.

Arthur's low groans sounded particularly jarring in the swaying carriage, as if his pain was a testament to the absurdity and cruelty of the world.

His lips moved, uttering a few syllables indistinctly. Lin Zheng couldn't hear them clearly, but the endless weariness and despair revealed in his voice were clearly discernible.

Lina hugged Arthur tightly, her eyes filled with a mixture of worry for him and wariness of the new information, making her taut nerves almost snap.

Lin Zheng held the communicator, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the casing—a habitual action he only performed when thinking, as if he were stitching something together.

He recalled the "dream builders"—senior corporate executives, politicians, and media moguls—who provided spiritual nourishment to the "Sleeping God" by weaving the illusion of the "American Dream," creating hope, and then ruthlessly crushing it.

If this "Lullaby" project truly exists and is widely used, then it is undoubtedly another core tool of the "American Dream" company in its "spiritual cultivation" of the entire population. This realization made all his previous resistance and struggles seem insignificant, like futilely waving his fists in front of a massive machine.

Ava gave no further instructions, leaving only these fragmented pieces of information before ending the communication.

Lin Zheng put down the communicator, and only the roar of the engine and Arthur's painful groans remained in the car, making the air unusually heavy.

The escape continues, and the Finch Laboratory behind them has fallen into complete silence, but the name "Lullaby" is like a brand new, unseen giant shadow, quietly unfolding ahead.

Lin Zheng felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders increase even more. This invisible threat was far more unsettling than the armed pursuit teams.

How will they face this unseen threat? And where can they find a "lullaby" that can counteract this manipulation of the soul?

The road ahead seems farther and more dangerous.

The truth about "Lullaby" is like an invisible tentacle reaching out from the abyss, slowly but surely pulling Lin Zheng, plunging him into an even deeper nightmare.

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