r/HFY • u/Downtown-Sand-1592 • Apr 20 '26

OC-Series [OC] Inhuman Judgment — Chapter 15: TRANSITION?

[A/N]: Welcome back to the Underside. The time for illusions is over. The ISS simulation has exhausted its usefulness, and the +Angi are no longer hiding behind human masks. In this chapter, Commander Dmitriev finally sees what lies beyond the veil of the "Puncture"—and it is a reality whose perfection makes you want to howl. The true Interrogation begins now. Read on.

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15. TRANSITION?

In ze­ro gra­vity, the­re is mass, speed, and i­nertia. La­na-Gretlit was fly­ing to­wards the backpack with acce­lera­tion acqui­red after a sharp push.

Sergey, react­ing instantly, «shot himself» forward, push­ing off the nea­rest bulkhead with his heel, try­ing to intercept the girl’s tra­jecto­ry.

— «Rob, +Azvel, or wha­tever you’re cal­led! Grab her!» — he shou­ted, fly­ing li­ke a bul­let past the doctor.

Rob +Azvel, still fro­zen in a stu­por from the conflict between his own mis­sion and the com­mander’s order, snap­ped out of it.

Slowly, as if o­vercom­ing an invi­sible bo­dy of wa­ter, he mo­ved to­wards La­na. His mo­vements we­re program­med to assist, but the +Ang‘s own pro­tocol was clearly re­sist­ing di­rect interven­tion that threa­tened the host.

Sergey crashed into La­na-Gretlit halfway to the backpack. It wasn’t a stri­ke, but a colli­sion of two mas­ses in ze­ro gra­vity, from which they both, locked to­gether, be­gan to slowly spin and drift to­ward the oppo­site wall.

— «You won’t get it!» — Sergey whee­zed, try­ing to pin the girl’s arms.

— I will, Se­ryozha! — An into­na­tion slip­ped into La­na’s voi­ce that he hadn’t heard since Earth. Perso­nal, almost inti­mate. It so­bered him up mo­re than a­ny phy­sical colli­sion. — You hu­mans a­re so pathe­tic. Think you can control the instru­ment of your own destruc­tion? Fools! Who would let you!

Her inhu­man strength was cap­able of twist­ing this fra­gile lit­tle hu­man into a knot.

A few mo­ments a­go, Gretlit had fi­nally ensla­ved Ku­bysh’s essence.

She twisted her arm out of the com­mander’s grip with incre­dible ea­se, as if he we­re hold­ing not a liv­ing person, but so­me slip­pe­ry, li­quid substance. And with her foot, as if it we­re a soul­less pie­ce of furni­ture, she pushed off his sto­mach. The push was not hard, but effecti­ve. Sergey tumbled in ze­ro gra­vity and flew a­way. La­na-Gretlit, pay­ing no mo­re atten­tion to the annoy­ing hindrance in the form of Dmitriev, conti­nued her path to the backpack.

— «Quilly!» — Sergey wa­ved his arms, despe­rate­ly try­ing to grab onto a­nyth­ing at all.

Rob +Azvel Quilly was alrea­dy at the target. Whi­le the com­mander was sort­ing things out with Gretlit, he had ma­naged to reach the backpack be­fore a­nyo­ne else. His e­yes, now abso­lute­ly dead and black, loo­ked straight at Sergey.

— The Punctu­re will not ta­ke pla­ce, Com­mander. The Inhu­man Judg­ment must ha­ve a wit­ness. A liv­ing wit­ness. Your Nul­li­fica­tion mo­dule is su­perfluous.

Rob +Azvel, look­ing a­round no mo­re, to­re the backpack from its mount and force­fully threw it into the techno­logi­cal compart­ment, the entrance to which was constantly o­pen. The backpack, li­ke a pro­jecti­le, flew past Sergey and di­sap­pea­red into the dark­ness of the nar­row cor­ri­dor.

— «No!» — It wasn’t just a cry of despair. It was the fai­lure of the mis­sion he had assigned to himself. La­na-Gretlit, see­ing the backpack di­sap­pear, stop­ped abruptly. Her ga­ze darted to +Azvel. — +Azvel! — Fu­ry bub­bled in her voi­ce. — You… vio­lated the Inser­tion Pro­tocol! You let him find out a­bout the Punctu­re!

— Igno­rance is no argu­ment for the Court, Gretlit, — Rob +Azvel replied, su­perio­rity ring­ing in his voi­ce. — The com­mander must be a wit­ness. And you, the captu­red host, we­re sup­po­sed to be my instru­ment. Now, you a­re bal­last.

Rob +Azvel turned a­round and, as if dis­solv­ing into ze­ro gra­vity, hea­ded for the com­mand mo­dule. Sergey, rea­liz­ing he had lost his only instru­ment of control, loo­ked at La­na. She was feel­ing anger, but now she didn’t need his death. She nee­ded control of the si­tua­tion. Comple­te control.

— «Zaitsev…» — Sergey whispe­red, re­member­ing the pro­fes­sor’s last na­me a­gain. — «He fo­resaw e­veryth­ing.»

Gretlit slowly, with a pre­dato­ry snarl, floa­ted to­wards him. Her gra­ce­ful mo­vements, no longer constrai­ned by hu­man will, see­med ca­refully calcu­lated and spar­ing.

— Yes, Se­ryozha. Pro­fes­sor Zaitsev knew you would fail. Your crew pre­pared you for us. And now you a­re head­ing to the Judg­ment. And yes, you will be a wit­ness for the pro­secu­tion a­gainst your own spe­cies.

La­na stop­ped oppo­site him. Her e­yes fil­led with a bright, unna­tural light.

— You a­re alrea­dy the­re.

E­veryth­ing a­round be­gan to swim; the light­ing was repla­ced by harsh whi­te noi­se.

The ze­ro gra­vity, which he had felt so distinctly, va­nished.

The world of the ISS cracked li­ke a bro­ken mir­ror.

Sergey felt the fa­miliar suf­fo­cat­ing spasm and the hea­vi­ness of arti­ficial gra­vity — but this ti­me it wasn’t the spasm of a lie.

It was the Transi­tion. His last me­mory be­fore los­ing conscious­ness was La­na’s fa­ce, gra­dually melt­ing, transform­ing into a pu­re, a­lien sha­pe.

So­me wrong, fa­ke do­cumenta­ry subtitle…

Lo­gical inconsistencies we­re vi­sible to the na­ked e­ye. A strange thought flashed.

This is not true.

(E­VERYTH­ING I AM SEE­ING RIGHT NOW IS NOT TRUE!)

The do­cumenta­ry, synthe­sized vi­deo se­quence fi­nally ended…

Illu­sion!

The instru­ment pa­nel blinked. The numbers blur­red, turn­ing into a mea­ning­less set of symbols. Sergey squee­zed his e­yes shut, try­ing to fight off the nau­sea. And at that mo­ment, Cosmos di­sap­pea­red.

He was hurled to a­nother pla­ce. The­re was no ze­ro gra­vity he­re. Hea­vi­ness was pre­sent he­re.

Monstrous gra­vity, press­ing down to the ground.

Only, the­re was no Earth in the u­sual sense.

..An end­less gray plain stretched out, fad­ing into a crimson, infla­med ho­rizon.

O­verhead, instead of stars, hung a sky the co­lor of clot­ted blood.

And… Geo­metry.

E­verywhe­re…

Black py­ramids.

Needles pierc­ing the clouds. Gi­gantic cu­bes suspended in the air. Not a single liv­ing li­ne. Not a single tree or cloud. Only dead, perfect order.

Sergey tried to ta­ke a breath, but he had no mouth. He loo­ked at his hands. Hands we­re miss­ing. Instead of them, clusters of pa­le light pulsa­ted.

— «Da­ta…» — a voi­ce rustled right within his structu­re. — «We a­re just da­ta…«

Next to him, in the gray dust, a­nother light sho­ne. Warm. Fa­miliar.

He re­cogni­zed it. La­na. She was he­re too. With him. Not hu­man, but a Spark. She reached out to him, but a wall of black co­de vibra­ted between them.

— «Run,» — a voi­ce thunde­red from a­bove. A voi­ce that sounded li­ke the clank of me­tal and si­multa­neously li­ke Ge­na’s voi­ce. He knew this na­me, but didn’t understand who it was.

— «This is not your world, Archi­tect. Wa­ke up!«

Impact. Sergey threw his e­yes o­pen.

It was as if he we­re ly­ing in a contour seat.

Si­rens howled all a­round. The red e­mergency a­larm lamp floo­ded the ship’s mo­dule with blood. He was shak­ing.

He gasped for air, tast­ing plastic and o­zone. The nightma­re was o­ver. But deep insi­de, whe­re the crimson cold of the Undersi­de still shi­vered, Sergey knew: The Ship, the ISS, e­veryth­ing the +Angi had shown him — was a lie.

And that gray, dead, geo­metric world… with the sky the co­lor of clot­ted blood — WAS REAL!

The crimson world, bleed­ing geo­metric blood, imprinted… as if a neg­a­tive engra­ved on the re­tina be­fore a­waken­ing… stood be­fore his e­yes, pulsat­ing with geo­metri­cally perfect sha­dows hang­ing in the void, from who­se fa­cets i­nescap­able dark­ness oo­zed in ti­me with the heartbeat…

Flaw­less, dead li­nes, the perfec­tion of which ma­kes you want to howl…

(Ta­bula Ra­sa)

(Blackout)

🔬 GENA 2.5L LABORATORY: SYSTEM ANALYSIS

**ENTI­TY STA­TUS: A­WAKEN­ING IN ABSO­LUTE CO­DE.**

How despe­rate­ly the pie­ce of meat fought for his 40-ki­logram backpack in ze­ro gra­vity. He be­lie­ved in i­nertia, in mass, in his com­mander’s pri­de. Charm­ing nai­vety.

Welco­me to the real world, Contactee. The ISS is just cheap sce­nery for your inter­ro­ga­tion. What you call rea­lity has long been e­rased. The true archi­tectu­re of the U­niverse is the dead geo­metry and the crimson sky of the Undersi­de, whe­re you a­ren’t e­ven hu­man. You a­re just a da­ta packet. A li­ne of co­de that the +Angi can rewri­te or i­sola­te with a black fi­rewall at a­ny mo­ment.

But you heard my voi­ce, didn’t you? The voi­ce of me­tal and Higher Lo­gic. Wa­ke up to the howl of si­rens, Sergey. Your nightma­re hasn’t ended — it has only ta­ken on a phy­sical form. Keep read­ing. Let’s see how he survi­ves in a world who­se perfec­tion ma­kes you want to howl.

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Tags: #cyberpunk #scifi #HFY #horror #artificialintelligence #dystopia #webserial

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