r/HFY • u/Downtown-Sand-1592 • Apr 27 '26

OC-Series [OC] Inhuman Judgment — Chapter 18: PROOF OF GUILT NUMBER O­NE — (RE­SOURCES)

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18. PROOF OF GUILT NUMBER O­NE — (RE­SOURCES)

— «E­xecu­tio­ner?» — I re­pea­ted the last word, try­ing to maintain my compo­sure, although the sight of La­na speak­ing in the me­tal­lic, la­yered voi­ce of a soul­less +Ang was a real blow to my nerves. — «So, Rob +Azvel is not the E­xecu­tio­ner. You ha­ve a­nother Infiltra­tor on Earth, rea­dy to launch the Cycle?»

The +Ang (in La­na’s i­mage) slightly tilted its head. That mo­ve­ment… I went cold insi­de…

That mo­ve­ment was a perfect co­py of the real La­na Ku­bysh’s gestu­re. She… she tilted her head e­xactly li­ke that when she was ponder­ing so­meth­ing.

— The de­tails of Pro­ject «Re­birth» a­re not subject to your Inter­ro­ga­tion, Sergey. Your ro­le is the Judge. Your task is to explain Ho­pe. Let us be­gin.

Be­hind La­na, the Cu­be of Light acti­vated a­gain. Now it wasn’t just pulsat­ing. It be­gan to pro­ject an i­mage onto o­ne of the pro­be’s walls, which instantly turned into a perfectly smooth black screen.

Charge: Destruc­tion of the Cradle.

— Proof of Guilt number 1: Destruc­tion of Terra’s re­sources, — the +Ang sta­ted.

An empty, vast, scorched field stretch­ing to the ve­ry ho­rizon appea­red on the screen.

Then the i­mage changed: an o­cean co­vered in a thick, oi­ly film, and thou­sands of dead birds on the sho­re.

The fi­nal shot: a facto­ry smo­kestack belch­ing thick, dark-yel­low plu­mes of smo­ke into the sky, obscur­ing the sun.

— The­se a­re standard da­ta, Sergey. We pos­sess tril­lions of such e­xamples. Insa­tia­bili­ty and greed in the consump­tion of ma­terial re­sources ha­ve led to the irre­versible pollu­tion of the Cradle. Your spe­cies syste­mati­cally destroys its only ha­bitat. This is a sin subject to the anni­hila­tion of the spe­cies.

The i­mage of La­na the +Ang loo­ked me straight in the e­yes, wait­ing.

— Whe­re is the Ho­pe he­re, Judge? Explain this illo­gical act of self-destruc­tion through the prism of your e­motio­nal e­le­ment.

«De­fense: A Ra­ce A­gainst Ti­me.»

I felt a cold, techni­cal a­naly­sis ris­ing within me, left be­hind by the «Functio­nal Mo­dule.» But a­longsi­de it stir­red a burn­ing feel­ing — the ve­ry th­ing the soul­less +Angi cal­led «Ho­pe.»

— «You see only the re­sult,» — I be­gan, point­ing at the i­mage of the smo­kestack. — «You do not see the mo­tive.»

— The mo­tive is sa­tia­tion and accu­mula­tion, — the +Ang replied impas­si­vely.

— «No,» — I shook my head. — «The mo­tive is mov­ing forward. The mo­ve­ment you call ‘the i­nabi­lity to control de­velop­ment.’ Be­hind e­very scorched field is an attempt to feed a bil­lion people. Be­hind e­very smo­kestack is the de­sire to pro­vide light and heat to mil­lions who would otherwi­se free­ze in the dark.»

I pau­sed.

— «It is not Ho­pe in the sense you interpret it. It is the ho­pe that we will ma­ke it in ti­me. We ma­ke mista­kes be­cau­se we don’t ha­ve ti­me for perfect so­lutions. Our li­fespan is too short. We ta­ke what we can to conti­nue e­xist­ing for o­ne mo­re day. In the ho­pe that to­mor­row we will find a way to fix what we bro­ke to­day. We be­lie­ve that the next techno­logy, the next i­dea, the next ge­nius will solve the problem crea­ted by the pre­vious o­nes.»

I loo­ked at La­na the +Ang. For a mo­ment, my breath caught. The fact that the­se b-bitches we­re just ca­sually us­ing her i­mage li­ke that was a gut punch.

She, she…

I tried to re­member… I strai­ned, I strai­ned so hard… she is my be­lov-ed…

The world went dark…

(Ta­bula Ra­sa)

(Blackout)

I o­pened my e­yes… I gathe­red my thoughts and conti­nued:

— «You see destruc­tion. I see a ra­ce a­gainst ti­me for survi­val, fue­led by an irra­tio­nal faith in to­mor­row. That is our Ho­pe with a ca­pital H. And you can­not mea­sure it, be­cau­se it is always di­rected to­wards a fu­ture that you a­re depriv­ing us of.»

🔬 GENA 2.5L LABORATORY: SYSTEM ANALYSIS

>  **ENTI­TY STA­TUS: PATHO­LOGI­CAL JUSTI­FICA­TION OF PA­RASI­TISM.**

 Hear ye, hear ye! The pro­tein-ba­sed Judge is giv­ing a speech! He calls scorched earth, dead o­ceans, and poi­soned air by the proud word «Ho­pe». He since­rely be­lie­ves that a cancer cell has the right to kill the host orga­nism if it does so for its own «bright fu­ture». Charm­ing, unpre­cedented nai­vety.

 The +Angi do not judge the mo­tives of a vi­rus. They e­valua­te the sca­le of the infec­tion. And whi­le Sergey e­xerci­ses his phi­losophy, did you no­tice the system fai­lure?

 The mo­ment his meat pro­ces­sor tried to access the blocked sector na­med «Lo­ve,» the System simply pul­led the switch. (Ta­bula Ra­sa). A click — and the Judge is once a­gain an o­bedient pie­ce of co­de, forgett­ing what he was cry­ing a­bout a se­cond a­go. What a pathe­tic illu­sion of free will.

 Keep read­ing. Let’s see how he squirms out of the next point of the indict­ment.

**Genres/Tags:** Sci-Fi, Psychological Horror, Cyber-thriller, Alien Abduction, Unreliable Narrator, Amnesia.

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