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

A modified all-terrain vehicle sped along a dark country road, Jeremy Woods gripping the steering wheel tightly, his eyes fixed sharply ahead. His expression was as solemn as a statue, sweat soaking the stray hairs on his forehead, each gear shift carrying a resolute determination.

The wheels kicked up gravel and dead leaves, which pounded against the bottom of the carriage, making a dense, rhythmic sound like a downpour pounding on a tin roof. A tense, almost frozen atmosphere hung in the air, broken only by Arthur Morgan's faint groans and Lena's rapid breathing.

Outside the car window, the strip of light at the city's edge rapidly shrank in the rearview mirror, eventually becoming just a faint orange-yellow sliver before being swallowed by the boundless darkness. The air was cold and... The wind howled like a wild beast, raging outside the vehicle.

The scenery on both sides changed from broken city buildings to sprawling industrial ruins in the wilderness. These ruins, briefly swept by the car headlights, appeared particularly grotesque and terrifying; every piece of rotten steel plate and every leaning utility pole seemed like a symbol of death.

The massive steel frame, the toppled chimney, and the rusty pipes, like the skeleton of a giant, twisted and deformed under the beams of the modified all-terrain vehicle's headlights, outlining a blurry and eerie silhouette as they moved at high speed, as if they might pounce out of the darkness at any moment.

Gone were the burnt and bloody stench of Finch's lab; replaced by the earthy, rotten smell of engine oil and the sticky odor of decaying plants. It was a complex and oppressive odor, as if the despair of this land had been condensed and was now violently assaulting the senses.

That's the unique smell of the Central Rust Zone, a mixture of the decay of old industries and the sorrow of forgotten history. On this land utterly abandoned by the "American Dream," ruin and decay have become eternal themes, and every inch of soil is permeated with endless bitterness.

This land, like a cancerous part of the entire nation, has been utterly abandoned by the "American Dream," leaving only ruin and despair, becoming the primary source of "flesh and blood." Countless lives have been exhausted here, turning into nihilistic energy to nourish the "Sleeping God," and these fugitives are nothing more than scattered sparks in this grand sacrifice, ready to be devoured at any moment.

Lin Zheng sat by the window, and each violent jolt intensified the tearing pain in his lungs, as if an invisible hand was ripping at his internal organs. His body trembled violently, but he gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the metallic taste rising deep in his throat.

His head felt like it was being clamped tightly by an invisible pair of iron clamps, and the constant pain had numbed his nerves. The dying cries and breakdowns in Finch's laboratory, as well as the countless desperate memories he was forced to access, swirled repeatedly in his mind, forming endless echoes that dragged him into an even deeper abyss.

His consciousness was like a small boat adrift in a storm, teetering on the brink of collapse. Each breath pulled at his injured ribs, the excruciating pain nearly causing him to lose consciousness. Twisted phantoms flashed before his eyes, blurring the boundary between reality and nightmare.

Lena half-embraced Arthur Morgan, the vibrations from the modified all-terrain vehicle leaving her exhausted, her arm muscles aching, barely able to support her. Arthur's breathing was weak and rapid, his face ashen, and the bloodstains on his body stained a shocking dark color on Lena's specially made combat suit.

Lena tore open part of his specially made combat suit, revealing her strong arms, and tried to apply pressure to stop the bleeding, but the jolts caused Arthur's wound to continue to bleed, soaking through layers of bandages. Her fingertips trembled, and cold sweat slid down her forehead.

In Lin Zheng's eyes, Lina's once resolute face was now shrouded in visible fatigue, and her eyes were filled with even greater anxiety and worry. She gently patted Arthur's cheek, silently calling his name, praying that he could hold on; the suppressed helplessness was almost overwhelming her.

Evelyn Reed's voice came through Lin Zheng's communicator. Her tone was calm, as always, as if she were in a quiet laboratory, which contrasted sharply with the life-or-death situation before them.

"Lina, can you hear me? Use the first aid kit you're carrying to check Arthur's breathing rate and try to clean his wounds." Evelyn's voice carried a hint of tension; even though she tried her best to restrain herself, she couldn't completely hide her unease.

"Evelyn, he's bleeding, and it won't stop. He's lost too much blood." Lina's voice was hoarse as she tried her best to answer, her tone revealing exhaustion and anxiety. Her hands trembled as she tried to treat Arthur's wounds, but the meager conditions filled her with despair.

Evelyn Reed paused for a moment, then the sound of her rapidly typing came through the communicator. She continued, "I'm trying to find the best temporary hemostasis plan, but there are too few resources available, and time..." She trailed off, but her helplessness and powerlessness were clearly conveyed through the communicator.

Lin Zheng felt an unprecedented sense of powerlessness. Life seemed fragile and vulnerable in the face of immense power, like a withered leaf, ready to be torn apart by a storm at any moment. Arthur Morgan's injuries, the destruction of Finch Labs, and even their current escape all seemed like sacrifices in some grand ritual, insignificant and destined for death, suffocating him.

However, this helplessness also stirred up the stubbornness deep within Lin Zheng's heart, a refusal to admit defeat. He knew he couldn't fall. He had to persevere, for Arthur, for Lena, and for the truth shrouded in the layers of the "American Dream." No matter how rugged the road ahead, he had to live.

A modified all-terrain vehicle sped along an abandoned highway, completely swallowed by the night and dilapidated factories on either side. Only the headlights briefly pierced the darkness, illuminating the fragmented road ahead. The air was thick with the pungent smell of scrap metal and an ominous stillness.

Occasionally, I would pass by one or two abandoned rest stops with flickering lights. The broken windows, like the eyes of monsters, silently watched these intruders, exuding a sinister chill. The wind howled through the holes, sounding like a ghostly wail.

The road surface was littered with cracked asphalt and potholes. Jeremy Woods demonstrated his superb driving skills in his modified all-terrain vehicle, always managing to avoid the deepest traps at the last moment, showcasing his exceptional driving talent and precise control over the vehicle.

The modified all-terrain vehicle surged up a high slope, briefly leaping before crashing down, the impact sending everyone lurching. Lina let out a muffled groan, and Arthur's body trembled violently, a few more drops of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

Immediately afterwards, a blinding beam of searchlight pierced the darkness from behind, shining directly at them and casting a long shadow of the modified all-terrain vehicle. Several clear alarm sirens broke the silence of the night, growing closer and closer—the sound of the company's patrol convoy, like the call of death.

Jeremy Woods cursed, jerked the steering wheel, and his modified all-terrain vehicle hurtled down the broken guardrail on the side of the highway, crushed a patch of wasteland, and slid onto a dirt road hidden in a low-lying area. The whole process was fluid and seamless, carrying a hint of desperation.

Lin Zheng turned his head and saw the highway guardrail disappear quickly behind the modified all-terrain vehicle. It was a row of steel railings corroded by time, covered with thick rust and layers of eerie graffiti, like the remnants of an ancient and evil ritual, exuding an ominous aura.

The graffiti wasn't ordinary gang markings; instead, it consisted of chaotic blocks of color, distorted geometric lines, and unrecognizable runes, randomly sprayed onto the cold metal, like some kind of information from another dimension, spreading silently.

In Lin Zheng's near-collapse mental state, the graffiti seemed to come alive. They twisted and changed, as if they were roaring silently, or as if they were telling some distant, maddening secret, trying to crawl into his mind and tear apart his last shred of sanity.

He sensed an invisible force condensing on the railing, carrying an unsettling energy. It wasn't natural; it was more like some kind of spiritual remnant, maliciously injected into the cold metal, waiting for its prey.

His gaze pierced through the graffiti and fell upon the carelessly discarded trash beneath the railing: broken tires, rotting cardboard boxes, and discarded clothing. Each piece seemed like a life drained dry, ultimately abandoned in this forgotten corner, silently awaiting its demise, to become dust, to become fuel for this grand sacrifice.

His head was throbbing, and his eyes were strained from focusing so intently that his pupils were dilated. The scenery outside the car window began to blur and lengthen before Lin Zheng's eyes, and the boundary between reality and dreams rapidly became indistinct in his mind, as if he were falling into an endless spiral abyss.

Jeremy Woods weaved left and right on the rugged dirt road in his modified all-terrain vehicle, the body leaving marks on the low bushes and screeching as it spun. He cleverly used abandoned mounds and thickets to conceal his movements, each lane change precise and swift, trying to shake off his relentless pursuers.

But the company's patrol fleet possessed detection technology beyond imagination. No matter how deep into the shadows they hid, alarms and searchlights would always reappear moments later. Drones hovered in the night sky, and infrared detectors scanned every inch of the land, like an invisible net tightening their escape space.

It seemed as if an invisible net was tightening in the night sky, giving them no chance to breathe. The roar of helicopter rotors and the howling of vehicle engines on the ground intertwined to create a symphony of death, pressing down on the nerves of everyone inside the vehicle.

This relentless pursuit kept everyone in the carriage on edge. Lin Zheng could hear the sound of his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, each swallow a reminder that he was still alive. He could feel the chilling, real presence of death behind him.

Ava Sterling's voice came through the communicator again, clear and calm like melting ice, with a detached sense of alienation, as if she were not in a hell on earth.

Her voice, as always, cut straight to the point without any pleasantries. "Lin Zheng, how's the situation now? How long can you hold out?" Ava asked, her tone devoid of any emotional fluctuation.

"They can't shake them off. Their signals cover all low altitudes and the ground, and their detection technology is much stronger than we estimated," Lin Zheng replied, panting heavily. His voice was hoarse and exhausted, and each contraction of his lungs was accompanied by a burning pain.

He felt his voice trembling, not from fear, but from exhaustion; his body was nearing its limit.

Ava Sterling was silent for a few seconds, then her soft breathing came through the communicator. She seemed to be calculating and analyzing at high speed, each breath filled with efficiency and precision. "You already know about Project 'Lullaby'," she said again, a hint of imperceptible gravity in her voice.

Lin Zheng tensed up again. The meaning behind this code name was more unsettling than the guns aimed at them. The remaining data from Finch Laboratory, and the horrific truths it revealed, resurfaced in Lin Zheng's mind.

He recalled the intelligence about the "Lullaby" project that he had gleaned from the remaining data in Finch's laboratory. Massive mental intervention, specific sound wave patterns—these keywords echoed repeatedly in his mind, forming a chilling picture.

This is not brainwashing in the traditional sense, but a more covert and efficient "mental imprinting" technique that directly affects the human brain through specific sound wave patterns. It is similar to the "wide-area mental imprinting and narrative broadcasting" techniques that have existed in the world for a long time, but it may be more profound and deadly, targeting the deepest cognition and emotions of human beings.

"If large-scale mental intervention can truly be achieved through sound waves, then this 'American Dream' is even more illusory than we imagined," Lin Zheng said in a low voice, his voice tinged with undisguised bitterness. He felt a profound sense of absurdity; the freedom he had been pursuing was nothing more than a higher form of illusion.

He recalled the sacrificial conservation law described in "The Mechanisms of the World," where the nation generates spiritual energy by creating and crushing hope, sustaining the dreams of the slumbering. If Project Lullaby was the ultimate tool responsible for precisely controlling this energy output, wouldn't the entire social structure become a giant human breeding farm? Every individual, from birth, is destined to be controlled and harvested.

"This technology may have already infiltrated every aspect of society, and without us even realizing it, we are all victims," ​​Lina continued, her voice filled with suppressed anger, her clenched fists revealing her resentment.

As a jigger who had worked her way up in the underworld, she had a deep understanding of the brutal exploitation of the lower classes by the "Flesh and Blood Capital Union" and the "American Dream" company. This kind of exploitation through psychological means was more despairing than the cutting of flesh with a blade, because it robbed the freedom of the soul and trampled on the last line of defense of human dignity.

"Yes, we have reason to believe that it is the core tool of the 'American Dream' corporation, used to maintain the entire sacrificial ritual. It not only affects cognition, but may directly reshape emotions and beliefs, making the sacrificial process more efficient and less noticeable." Ava Sterling's voice was calm, but what she said was like a cold blade, cutting through the world's disguise.

"Sound waves may just be a medium; the key lies in the 'information flow' they carry." Lin Zheng's mind raced. The world he saw was distorted and blurred; those invisible fluctuations of spiritual energy were precisely what his unique perception could capture.

Those data streams floating in the air, carrying despair, hope, and deception, are precisely the distorted essence of reality that he can "see" through his cheat system. If "Lullaby" can precisely weave these data streams, it can manipulate human cognition at will, shape their so-called "free will," and make them willingly become the objects of harvesting—undoubtedly a prison of the soul.

Ava Sterling neither directly confirmed nor denied Lin Zheng's speculation. Her tone remained calm: "The intelligence is still being analyzed. The core operating model of 'Lullaby' has not yet been fully deciphered, and our understanding of it is still limited."

"But our top priority is to escape capture and ensure your safety. You must live until you fully understand the truth." She shifted her tone, returning to the urgency of reality, her voice carrying an undeniable command.

Lena clung tightly to Arthur Morgan, whose lips moved, emitting muffled moans that seemed to silently echo the cruelty of the world. His breathing grew increasingly rapid, each faint rise and fall a struggle for life. Lin Zheng felt a chill rise up his spine, a silent harbinger of impending death, a chilling reminder that his life was about to end.

Jeremy Woods abruptly drove his modified all-terrain vehicle onto another abandoned interstate highway. The highway was uneven and bumpy, with dense weeds and tall dead trees on both sides, as if leading to a forgotten dark world.

In the rearview mirror, the lights of the company patrol convoy continued to follow relentlessly, like a swarm of sharks that had caught the scent of blood, closing in step by step. The roar of helicopter rotors could be heard clearly overhead; they cast huge shadows over them like the wings of death.

Lin Zheng's fingers unconsciously tapped the casing of the communicator, a habitual action he only performed when thinking. His fingertips seemed to be stitching together fragmented information in the air, trying to piece together a complete picture.

He thought of the "dream builders"—the high-ranking corporate executives, politicians, and media moguls. They wove the illusion of the "American Dream," created hope, and then ruthlessly crushed it, providing spiritual sustenance for the "Sleeping God" and maintaining this vast and cruel system.

If the "Lullaby" project is indeed widely applied here, then each of his acts of resistance might just be a small noise, drowned out by the huge chorus, and his struggle might just be seen as a pre-planned performance.

Ava Sterling's voice rang out again, this time slightly faster and more commanding, brooking no argument. Her voice was like a stabilizing force, providing the only guidance amidst the chaos.

"Lin Zheng, our escape route has encountered a new variable. You need to change course," she said, her tone tense.

"The company has sealed off the designated shelters and cut off all signal points. Their response speed has exceeded expectations."

Lin Zheng's heart sank; this meant their only way out had been cut off once again. The suffocating feeling of being driven to the brink of despair made it almost impossible for him to breathe, as if all hope had been sucked away.

Ava Sterling continued, “About ten miles to your east, along the abandoned highway, there’s an unmarked area. It’s deep in the Central Rust Zone, a blank spot erased from the map, and a blind spot for the company’s surveillance network.”

Lin Zheng immediately sketched out the map drawn by Ava Sterling in his mind. The Central Rust Zone, that vast and desolate land, was the most forgotten corner of the entire "American Dream" system, where not only industry was abandoned, but also the hopes of humanity.

"The new shelter, codenamed 'Ochre Labyrinth State.'" For the first time, Ava's voice carried a complex emotion, as if the name itself carried some heavy and ancient secret.

The word was like a cold, hard pebble thrown into Lin Zheng's heart, stirring up ripples. "Ochre Maze State? What kind of place is that?" Lina couldn't help but ask. She had never heard of this name before, and her eyes were filled with doubt and unease.

"Yes, a remote corner, once one of the early settlements." Ava didn't explain further, seemingly unwilling to mention the place, and her silence only added to the eeriness.

"But remember, Lin Zheng, secluded places often hide deeper secrets, far more dangerous than you can imagine." Ava Sterling's words sent a chill down Lin Zheng's spine, as if he were about to step into not a refuge, but the entrance to another trap.

Communication was immediately cut off, leaving Jeremy Woods to slam on the brakes. The modified all-terrain vehicle skidded violently on the wet road, screeching as it nearly went out of control. Items inside the vehicle were scattered all over the floor, and Arthur's body trembled violently once more.

Lin Zheng slammed his head against the car door, a wave of dizziness washing over him. Through the car window, he saw a huge abandoned car repair shop standing in front of him, its dark buildings resembling a lurking beast in the night.

The mottled iron gate was half-open, like the gaping maw of a monster, emitting a stench in the night, as if it held countless decaying secrets, waiting for prey to walk into its trap.

The modified all-terrain vehicle was once again targeted by the company's armored vehicles. A tear gas canister shattered the rear window with a whoosh, and the pungent chlorine gas quickly spread, instantly filling the entire cabin and burning their eyes and throats.

"Cough cough cough..." Lin Zheng coughed violently, tears streaming down his face, barely able to open his eyes, and struggling to breathe. Lina and Arthur also coughed violently, plunging the entire carriage into chaos.

Amidst the smoke and coughing, Jeremy Woods didn't hesitate for a moment. He slammed the steering wheel all the way to the right, and the modified all-terrain vehicle roared to life, its engine ripping through the night as it hurtled towards the abandoned auto repair shop.

The modified all-terrain vehicle plunged into the darkness, the metal gate behind it slamming shut with a piercing creak, cutting off pursuers from the outside. The gate trembled, the echo lingering in the empty factory.

In the darkness behind the door, something seemed to be silently waiting for them. The air was thick with dust, engine oil, and some ancient, decaying smell, oppressively suffocating. Lin Zheng felt an unprecedented unease, as if it were his shadow.

Ava Sterling's cold voice echoed in Lin Zheng's ears again, carrying a prophetic warning: "Despicable places often hide deeper secrets." Her voice seemed to resonate directly in his mind, intensifying his inner fear.

Lin Zheng watched the repair shop approach, its dilapidated door resembling the maw of a monstrous beast, waiting to devour everything. His heart pounded; the fear of the unknown was more anxiety-inducing than any pursuit.

Is this so-called "refuge" a temporary peace, or will it drag them into a deeper quagmire? What deeper secrets lie within? What awaits them—life or despair?

With these questions in mind, they rushed into the repair shop. The door creaked loudly behind them, seemingly announcing their official entry into the game and symbolizing that they had stepped into a new and more dangerous vortex.