Abandoned world: the Awareness

Heddock

The darkness in the room became even more palpable. Warm. Enveloping. Heddock was well aware of his surroundings, and had a separate sense of the distance to the switch on the wall, knowing that if he turned on the light, he would immediately lose that sensation. The sensation of darkness that could hold him in its embrace.

He moved toward his desk, treading carefully and putting his hands out slightly in front of him. After a couple steps, he reached his destination and walked around the desk, sitting down in his desk chair. The folding knife he was going for was in the second drawer on the right next to the TV remote. It occurred to him that it would be more comfortable to sit not in total darkness, but just by turning on something, so that that something would light up the room only slightly.

Finding the handle, Heddock yanked it and slid his hand inside. Then he pulled out the knife and the remote, pressing the first button he could find. The TV across the room from him lit up, showing the eight most important surveillance cameras in Apollo 24, showing the movements of citizens in the mess hall, the main assembly hall, the auditorium, the central passageways, and the administration building.

Given that his eyes were already well accustomed to the darkness, Heddock could see everything around him even in this light. Especially the knife. Yes, all these steps were primarily to see the knife better. And to better understand what actions would be most appropriate. Actions that could stretch and release the left side of his body that was weighing him down. He could directly feel that everything on his left side felt like it was shrinking and preventing the rest of his body from functioning properly, especially his heart. After all, it was on his left side too. It was moving too much and too often. And it felt more and more uncomfortable each time. Like if you took it out, there would be relief. You could do anything you wanted....

But you have to get to that point. You can't just pull a heart out. If you could, everyone would have done it a long time ago. Right away, no questions asked. Everyone would have been walking around without a heart long ago, and rejoicing at the ease they had as a result of it It was

clear that this was a difficult stage. It was clear that few understood it. And that perhaps no one had achieved what they wanted for some reason of their own. They hadn't succeeded. But he would

succeed At least there was no doubt about it now. It must succeed, one only had to do it

gradually…

Heddock picked up the knife, opened it, looked at the blade-it wasn't sharp enough. He'd done something with it a long time ago, and for years it had just been sitting in a desk drawer, idle…

It had never been sharpened… Or cut Now he had to cut the nasty side of blood and flesh, and the

sharpness of the knife wasn't quite right for that. Nevertheless, Heddock rolled up his left sleeve and ran the knife fairly hard along the part of his arm below the elbow, but on the other side of the vein. He knew that if he cut through the veins, the blood would come out of him quickly and he could lose consciousness, which meant he couldn't cut out the heart. It takes strength And at the same time,

you can't cut out the heart at once, because you have to prepare the side for it. It is necessary to release blood from the left side of the body so that there is relaxation, so that the oppressive condition that was there at that moment is released.

He put the knife on the table and began rummaging through the drawers, looking for something to sharpen the knife against. After a few minutes of searching, he found an old ceramic mug, the bottom of which was rough enough to sharpen anything steel. Heddock began sharpening his knife on it, and no sooner had he finished than the door to his room opened.

At first it was very frustrating that his forgetfulness had played such a part, but after seeing Sierra's frightened eyes, reason began to take a back seat.

– Charlie?! – Sierra shouted, turned on the light, and walked quickly over to him. She looked at the knife and mug in his hands, and at the cut on his arm, though not bleeding much. – What the hell are you doing?!

Heddock looked around, beginning to realize where he was and what he was doing. His arm began to ache as his mind began to come to rest. It wasn't too bad, but it was starting to whimper and tingle in some places, though given that it was coming out of the part that wasn't a vein, there wasn't much blood on the table. Sierra took off her blouse, leaving her bra on, and tied it around his arm, pulling it tight:

– Charlie, what were you doing just now?

Her gentle voice with a note of concern calmed him down a lot. Just a few moments ago, it had seemed like she'd be screaming and hysterical, not understanding what it was or where it came from. That it was some kind of crime that she shouldn't tell anyone about. But there was no reproach or anger on her part, only complete incomprehension.

– I… I was sharpening a knife to cut my arm… I remember exactly that I thought it was too blunt for that… And I needed to cut my arm to lighten the left side of my body… To make it airy and light. And then you could cut out your heart.

– What?!

– Yes… I remember it well… I had such a thought… Just a minute ago it seemed to me completely natural. I can't even describe the feeling, but it was a complete certainty of rightness… It seemed to me that if I cut out the heart, nothing inside my body would interfere with each other anymore… That it would free the whole body....

Sierra walked around the table, pulled up a nearby chair, and sat down close to Heddock:

– Charlie, are you saying you were gonna kill yourself? Why?

– That's the thing… I wasn't going to kill myself It's a different feeling. All I wanted to do

was cut out my heart. I had the complete feeling that I was gonna go on living my life as before. Or almost like before, only better… I can't describe it It's clear to me now that it's delusional, but at

the time it seemed perfectly normal. Not even normal, but natural…

– Charlie, there's something I have to tell you that probably everyone on the station is hiding from you.....

– That eight months ago we had our first suicide who was buried outside? About that?

– Yeah. I see someone already told you.

– Yes, Sierra. Someone told me. Why didn't you? Why did you keep it from me?

– Why do you need to know that, Charlie? You know it all You teach people to be good for

themselves and everyone else. You teach them to think about the future. You give them confidence. Why would you want to know that someone gave up not just that, but the very possibility of life?

– Because we've already got four of these crazies. And it looks like there just might be a

fifth…

They both fell silent. It was clear to both of them that everything had just gone exactly to the

point where a fifth citizen of the station would have killed himself by cutting himself up with a knife. And the hardest thing to say was that there wasn't much he could do about it – he was just going crazy without realizing it. And it had happened before, when he'd tried to tell her about these suicides. When he'd stabbed himself in the palm of his hand with his fingernail. It's already happened, it's happening now and it'll definitely happen again. Until he kills himself completely.

– Charlie, we really need you… I need you," Sierra said, hugging him with both arms.

– I know… I know… I don't know what it is myself… And it seems that those who have already done it have come to it in some similar way… And you know what I'm most interested in?

Did this really only start happening eight months ago, or has it been going on for a long time and we just haven't noticed?

– It's a suicide, Charlie… Everyone would have noticed… A corpse doesn't clean up after

itself.

– Yeah, you're right… Except for the ones who got away before they started killing

themselves… And I think I'm getting something clearer…" Haddock rose from his seat, pressing the tattered blouse tighter against his wound and glancing at Sierra. She looked very sexy now, sitting there in her long skirt and bra that emphasized the rounded shape of her breasts, and when combined with the fact that this was the office and the de facto head of the entire station, very provocative. These thoughts in another situation would have blown Haddock's mind, but now they only cleared, forming fresh thoughts of decision in his head:

– Put something on upstairs, we need to go check something out....

***

The archives department consisted of only one room, where several computers stood, arranged in an even row. No windows, no desks, nothing extra. Just four computers with slide-out keyboards and chairs in front of them.

Heddock thought of the phrase that the corpse would not go away by itself. After all, the station was surrounded by a huge mass of territory, which no one really controlled, and that if you wanted, you could disappear by yourself in a very simple way – just by putting on a spacesuit and getting far away Of course, no one would be able to open a heart there, but to part with your life

would not be a problem. And now there was no doubt that the thoughts that were formed at the moment of an attack could be of a completely different kind, but definitely leading to the same result – inevitable death.

Heddock and Sierra were now pairing up reports on the number of lost, inoperable, decommissioned spacesuits from previous years. After Heddock realized that he was far from having complete control over Apollo 24's activities, the possibility that his own mistakes were being hidden from him no longer seemed so impossible.

And the answers started coming almost immediately. It turned out that four years after the awakening, there was some loophole for manipulating the reports with the written-off inventory. The thing is, the original models of spacesuits were only supposed to be usable if a second person closed the suit door from behind, and then opened it upon arrival to let the person out. Four years later, new models were developed that allowed one to close inside oneself and also open later. And judging by the reports, the next eight years only went by in an upward trend: as time went on, more and more new spacesuits were developed, and older models were put aside for storage. But then the trend began, when some of the new models were again replaced by the old ones for various reasons "damage to the sleeve", "damage to the closing mechanism" and other fairly easily correctable flaws. But instead of eliminating them, they were written off completely and disposed of as if into the void, because after the instructions for disposal there were no parts left, which could obviously be useful both for replacement and in the production of new spacesuits.

Thus, by keeping the number of suits at the same level, the managers were obviously hiding the disappearance of spacesuits. And it would not look so obvious, if it did not turn out that all the time only new models are utilized, and the old ones are sent for repair.

It seemed that all the past suicides had been found, bravely leaving the station and settling scores with their lives somewhere out there, obeying strange impulses that Haddock himself had had recently. Of course, there were still questions about where exactly they were going, and why had the process of "leaving" been abruptly replaced by a process of "mowing down" on the station itself? The news was, of course, that there was a very palpable eyewash in the supposedly very correct accounting structures at the station.

Come to think of it, why can't we just report that someone has voluntarily left the station and not returned. Maybe they should go out looking for him. Maybe some new controls should be put in place to keep people from going out on their own… But no, they just draw up the reports so that there's no question about it… Haddock was not only amazed, but also very disappointed that he'd let an entire system that had a life of its own flourish for so long, and his thoughts didn't stop there. How much more of this could there be in Apollo 24?

How many other areas of the station's life could there be, where in reality he had no control over anything? He didn't want to truthfully answer that question, but the answer came forward on its own – everywhere. It could just be everywhere. Here's the problem. He allowed himself to break the rules and not be afraid of it, because, as everyone knew, even for a Felony the punishment was a stay in Tosca, where you might be lucky enough to become a warden.

The only thing that can fix this is a visual demonstration of death. Fear and death. They quickly sober the mind, the body, the soul. When everyone sees that they have something to lose, and that it could be any of them who break the rules. All that's left is to come up with a louder name for it than felony. And for that, there's Peyton Cross, capable of creating the necessary, showing everyone that it's new.

Natalie

Natalie had been to all sectors of the energy section, to the administration office, then to the security office, and then back to the living quarters of the New York building, where she spent considerable time knocking on Morgan's apparently empty apartment. He was nowhere to be found and no one knew where he might be except at his workplace in the lab. The administration had even hinted to her that she should not inquire about such matters during working hours, and that if a man was not at his workplace, his immediate superior, namely the head of the energy section, should always know about it.

Natalie didn't say that he wasn't at his workplace either, and that since they didn't know, they should just say so. She'd recently begun to notice that the people around her were more fucked up than she'd realized before. In fact, before she'd met Morgan, before their first night together, she hadn't noticed anyone else's fuck-ups at all. People grumbled when they didn't want to answer or didn't know the right answer. That's how people are. Of course, there had to be some reason behind it, but it had never occurred to her that most of these people had the same reason. So much depended on physiology, and the most primitive one at that… She was also surprised that people of different ages behaved like that, both those younger than her and those older. It manifested itself in a few different ways, but still the same disgusting shade of something inferior was in all these faces at the same time. In fact, it gave away the very general similarity of nervous grouchiness and caustic behavior in all these faces.

– You could have fucked each other," Natalie said, staring at the locked door of Morgan's apartment. – I don't want to be like that.

She turned around and went back to the administration office, after all, Sierra was a close friend of hers, and maybe she could find out something through her. It was also worth supporting her now, after she'd complained about what was going on with Charlie. They were all the same problems, all because of men.

***

Sierra wasn't there either, and her assistant said she hadn't shown up since morning. This was becoming not just surprising, but suspicious. Something was happening on the station that was no longer a possibility, but a given. At least two section chiefs were missing, Morgan, without whom

the life of their only power station was impossible, was missing. The only thing left to do is to kidnap her herself, so that everyone will immediately forget about the new helium-3 possibilities.

The administration building included the main hall, inside of which there were small cubicles of ordinary clerks, and in different corners offices of chiefs. There were almost no people, and it seemed that today the office work at the station was more dead than alive.

What was the point of having so many hookworms anyway? – Natalie thought and turned to leave this seemingly useless mess. It wasn't even the files in the computer, it was the sheets of paper, which took so many resources to produce that it could probably feed a second station. It's a separate block with growing wood, which is worth it. Of course, the materials from there were used not only for paper production, but the fact that people were doing not what was necessary for survival, but for the formation of this fiction, was already disconcerting.

She tried to remember what it had been like twenty years ago, when she was still a little girl, and she remembered the long lines that crowded into this room, waiting for some permits, coupons, certificates. What she remembered well was that at that time more people just stood there and wasted time than did something concrete with those papers, but now there were almost no queues, but the number of papers had grown exponentially. This is a very strange logic – either there are more papers, then there are more queues for all these papers, or vice versa....

– They must have invented their own jobs. " Natalie said aloud and turned toward the exit.

Before she could take a step, a hand with a piece of paper clasped between her thumb and forefinger popped out in front of her.

– This is for you, Miss Jackson! – proclaimed a young and very caustic-looking girl.

Natalie remembered her. Her name was Daisy, and she'd hit on Morgan several times in the corridors of the New York block without success. Despite her rather unassuming appearance, she was remembered well enough for the expression on her face-it was completely unnatural. She had the impression that it was not real, but glued on, and expressed emotions different from those expressed by her eyes. Obviously, she had a radical problem with underfucking, something Natalie had suspected even before the moment of her insight into Morgan's satisfaction.

Natalie picked up and opened the paper handed to her, where at the very beginning in large letters was written "Warning", followed by a text stating that she was being issued a warning due to permanent absence from her workplace, which put other station employees at risk, undermined the morale of the team, and had an immoral effect on all life at the station, and therefore it was demanded that she return to her workplace and not leave it until the end of the shift.

It even looked ridiculous. Not only was it written in the obvious spirit of something official, but it didn't refer to any statutes or regulations. But what made it especially funny was that Daisy didn't realize that Natalie's workplace at the moment was with the very Morgan she was jealous of.

Realizing all that, realizing that Daisy was no match for her in any way, shape or form. Not her body, not her clothes, not her demeanor-nothing could even come close to matching Natalie. And there was no need to talk about her perpetually tricky face, because it was unlikely that anyone would want to get caught in it.

Natalie was now wearing a pencil skirt that emphasized her hips and a dark blue blouse that showed off her ample breasts. Daisy wore baggy pants and a white, almost see-through blouse with a lacy bra behind it. She probably thought it would attract men, but it seemed rather pretentious and tasteless. Even though it was obvious that there was no rivalry, Natalie got angry, tore the paper she'd been handed into four pieces and threw it toward Daisy:

– I'm looking for Morgan. And shove that piece of paper up your ass!

Daisy started to shout something in her direction, though not very loudly, and then ran toward the Chief of Staff's office. Let her tell Sierra, who wasn't there right now. It would be

interesting to hear how it would all play out. How stupid and petty people can be at the same time, when they don't want to realize that the reason for their troubles is in themselves.

Natalie was almost to the exit and then some strange force stopped her from getting out.

She felt something grabbing her by the shoulders or by the waist, keeping her from getting out. And that something also began to climb from the left side of her head right inside. She jerked back, looked around, and looked back. There was nothing strange going on, but the part of the hall closest to Sierra's office stood out in the distance.

There's something wrong here. Something is going to happen, and that something is dangerous for all of us. There was some confusion in Natalie's head, but still she understood what was going on around her. And it was obvious that those around her didn't have a similar feeling. And a couple of men on different sides of her were just looking at her with glances that were assessing her graceful figure.

Natalie moved back with quick steps. Let nothing happen to Sierra. I wish nothing would happen to her. She only had two close friends. Sierra and Delaney. I wish nothing would happen to them… Why would anything happen to them? In fact, Sierra wasn't even in the office. There's no way she could have gotten in bypassing her. Why would anything happen to anyone right now?

But as she approached Sierra's office, she saw her assistant lying unconscious near her desk. Her cubbyhole was just around the corner from the main room, so no one could see what had really happened. A few work folders were lying around, the chair was on its side, in short, all the signs that it was more than just a faint. Did Daisy do that to her?!

Natalie took a step toward the door to the study and noticed that the door was slightly open. There was a strange shuffling sound coming from there. It was as if someone or something was sharply and progressively running an iron over the couch. The girl quickly opened the door and almost shrieked, clamping her hands over her mouth.

Sitting at the Chief of Administration's desk, Daisy was cutting her left thigh with a clerical knife. In even rows, leaving more and more cuts over and over, she wielded it as if she were simply sharpening the knife. After each spurt, she would gently wipe the knife against her white blouse, leaving a streak of blood, and then make another swipe across her leg. The pupils in her eyes were so dilated that they seemed as black as night.

Natalie yelled, "Help!" and moved a little away from the entrance. She immediately thought that Daisy was going to leave the activity to do this to herself and run after her with the knife. But instead Daisy stopped and looked with her eyes full of terror right at her. It seemed as if she were looking not into her eyes, but straight into her soul. Straight into the innermost corners, where all the most secret and innermost thoughts of every human being lie. And yet her gaze expressed neither hatred, nor reproach, nor anything else.

Daisy smiled and solemnly slit her throat.

Elder

Peyton thought he'd be better in a month. He really hoped it would be sooner, at least a

week. In fact, he was better the very next day. His eyes burned with a new passion, and all he could think about was Delaney. About what he would do to her when he got the chance… And most of all, he couldn't understand how he hadn't gotten to that point before. How he'd just fucked her without violence before. How he'd done it and never even considered that it might look completely different. Not at all the way the old him wanted it to. And not the way he wanted the renewed one....

He couldn't call himself young. No. It's not for him. Young people make more mistakes than they do right. He's not like that. He's wise and precise. Every move he makes is a properly calibrated final combination. One that deserves respect. And on this day, he has something new to explain to

people. Something new that they couldn't even think of before, because it's a new step. A new next right step. One of the twenty-four right steps in achieving the goals of Apollo 24.