socalfunplaces Chapter 57 Cease Mourning
Chapter 57 Cease Mourning
Chapter 57 Cease Mourning (Please Subscribe)
The lowest level of the eastern granary.
Body disposal center.
Even when the midday sun is scorching the ground, the air humidity here remains above 90%.
The dampness from the decaying organic matter and fermenting acid fumes clung stickily to the skin.
The walls were mottled and eroded by dark green moss.
The ground is always covered with a layer of slippery grime.
With each step, I could feel a slight suction sensation under my feet.
The roar of the mixer's metal blades shredding bones and frozen meat drowned out all other noises.
Old John stood beside the conveyor belt, his hand gripping a long-handled iron hook tightly, the kind he used to retrieve corpses.
The thin, old man was wearing a rubber apron that was clearly two sizes too big, with the hem hanging down in a sloping manner and covered with dark red and blackish-green spots.
He was waving his arms, directing a dozen or so porters to work; they were all wearing gas masks.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Rowe approaching, and old John's wrinkled face instantly broke into a fawning smile as he rubbed his hands together and came forward to greet him.
"My esteemed advisor, why would you need to come down to such a dirty place?" Old John said obsequiously, bowing low.
"Leave it to me, you can rest assured! This batch—uh, raw materials," I guarantee I'll handle it thoroughly, leaving not even a bone fragment.
Luo Wei ignored the pointless small talk and simply waved his hand dismissively.
His gaze passed over old John's thinning head and locked onto the moving conveyor belt.
The laborers who were brain dead last night due to the collapse of their "ethnic will" are now being roughly hung up by specially made iron hooks and lined up to be sent into the entrance of the shredder.
Luo Wei remained vigilant regarding this special batch of "raw materials".
They are not just corpses.
Furthermore, they are hosts deeply infected by the gene-stealing cult.
The alien's genetic fragments, like dormant viruses, lurk in every gram of flesh and blood, in every nerve.
If not handled carefully, this dead flesh can become a new source of contamination.
It is possible that in the eutrophic fermentation tank, it will undergo secondary mutation by consuming other organic matter, thus causing a biochemical disaster.
To ensure the destruction process went perfectly, Lo Wei personally supervised it.
He wanted to witness firsthand how this batch of raw materials would be transformed into a chemically stable and harmless liquid fertilizer.
"There are a total of 1,119 bodies."
In his mind, Luo Wei silently recited the numbers compiled by the Case server.
Then his gaze swept across the scene.
He then noticed a detail.
The corpses on the conveyor belt were mostly stripped naked and hung there.
In the corner of the open space, clothes, shoes, and miscellaneous personal belongings were piled up into several damp mounds.
"You're quick, John."
Wearing thick protective gloves, Lowe casually picked up a work jacket stained with dried blood from the pile of debris, his fingertips rubbing against the rough fabric.
"I remember that according to the Wartime Sanitation Regulations, in order to prevent the spread of the plague, all the belongings of the dead, even if not burned, had to be buried deeply. That was a capital offense."
Old John's smile froze.
"This—this, esteemed advisor, please let me explain."
He stammered his explanation, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
"These are all good things!"
"Look at this coat, the material is sturdy, and with a few washes and repairs, it can last for several years."
"And these boots. The soles are worn thin, but they're all genuine leather! Genuine leather! The textile factories can't keep up with the demand, and many new workers are still working barefoot—"
As he spoke, he secretly observed Luo Wei's expression.
Seeing that Luo Wei did not immediately retaliate, he became a little bolder.
He took a half-step closer and lowered his voice, saying, "Advisor, these raw materials have quite a few contraband items on them. Some of the guys even have gold teeth! And there are coins hidden in the soles of their shoes. I'm thinking, instead of wasting them by burning them, why not—"
"Why not keep a portion of it, confiscate it, and use the rest as compensation for the brothers' hard work?" Luo Wei completed the second half of his sentence.
Old John chuckled twice, then shrank back, not daring to reply, his eyes flickering uncertainly.
Lowe glanced at the pile of pollutants.
In the eyes of Ministry of the Interior officials, this was an unforgivable act of corruption and dereliction of duty.
In the eyes of this clerk, this was called "asset recovery".
"Pry off all the gold teeth and send them to the smelting workshop. There's a severe shortage of gold in the industrial sector right now; every gram is precious," Luo Wei said calmly, tossing down his work jacket.
"Clothes and shoes are sterilized three times with high-temperature steam and put into storage only after confirming they are harmless. Employees who perform well this week can be rewarded with one item."
Old John's eyes lit up, as if he couldn't believe his ears: "You—you agree?"
"I don't mind wearing dead people's clothes as long as it reduces costs. But, John—" Lowe warned, "I allow you to recycle materials because they are the Emperor's property and are essential for the Empire's operation."
He pointed to the huge fermentation tank behind him.
At this moment, a dark green liquid is churning.
"If I find out that anyone has kept even a single bone from an alien host as a talisman out of greed, or brought home a pendant with blasphemous symbols, you can jump down yourself."
Old John shuddered.
"Yes, yes, I understand! I'll keep a close eye on things. Anyone who dares to hide anything will have their hands chopped off!"
Old John nodded frantically, his face trembling with wrinkles.
Luo Wei said no more and walked to the edge of the fermentation tank.
Inside the spacious metal pool, the dark green liquid was churning violently.
The murky bubbles kept bursting, releasing a pungent odor of sulfur mixed with fermented flesh.
Severed limbs floated in the whirlpool.
It is then broken down by strong acid and microorganisms, turning into a uniform and viscous slurry.
The process went smoothly without incident.
Luo Wei silently calculated another factor in his mind: "The nitrogen content of this batch of fertilizer will be very high, extremely high."
"With proper irrigation, wheat yields next season are expected to increase by about 3.5%."
"This should offset some of the pressure from tax officials. At least it will give us some breathing room."
After leaving the morgue, Rowe went to the repair shop.
The empty workshop echoed with low, synthesized electronic sounds.
The Requiem of the Binary Theorem, unique to the mechanical cult.
This melody is played only when important servants or high-ranking priests return to the embrace of the God of Machines.
It sounds especially solemn at this moment.
Father Alpha knelt before a pile of scrap metal.
These were once sacred, high-precision industrial centrifuges.
Now, their core rotors exhibit bizarre geometric twists.
The outer casing cracked, exposing the delicate copper coils inside to the air, with traces of melting at the break.
The priest's unrepaired mechanical tentacles dangled onto the oil-stained ground.
The electronic eyes flash blue light, representing the frequency of mourning.
Holding an incense burner, he used incense containing rare metal powder to fumigate the centrifuge wreckage, chanting: "01001—————— Data flow interrupted—————— The machine's soul returns to silence————"
Lowe stood behind him and listened for a while before interrupting the priest's eulogy.
"Stop playing the Requiem, Alpha."
"The Machine Soul has returned to the data stream of the God of Machines; crying cannot straighten the bent rotor."
Father Alpha turned his head, dejected. "Advisor," he said, "this is not just a physical bending. This is blasphemy."
"The impact of subspace energy altered the molecular structure of the metals. They are now completely destroyed and beyond repair."
He raised the robotic arm.
Pointing to a small low-temperature freezer next to it.
"Without centrifuges, we cannot refine high-purity biomass fuel, nor can we produce rejection antibody enzymes. This is our only trump card in the fight against genetic infection and plague."
Luo Wei nodded.
This consequence was within his expectations.
"Can't it be fixed?"
Lo Wei asked a question that he already knew the answer to.
"Unless I have reconstruction equipment of the Martian level, or original spare parts of the same model," the priest's electronic eyes narrowed. "In this remote agricultural world, finding spare parts for the M36 is an impossible task."
"That's not true, Father. I told you this morning that there are places where you can find spare parts."
Lo Wei arrived at the oil-stained workbench.
Separate the scattered gears and screws.
Lay a folded parchment map on the table.
"here."
Lo Wei pressed down on a corner of the map.
Father Alpha approached, and the electronic eye focused.
A piercing electrical sound emanated from his speaker unit.
"The Ninth Agricultural War Zone's granary?!"
The priest's voice rose an octave.
"Advisor, is your logic circuit overheated? It has already fallen. Millions of kilograms of corpses and waste have piled up in the Ninth Granary, forming a highly concentrated incubation ground for plague."
The priest quickly retrieved a set of holographic data and projected it into mid-air.
"Look, the detection data shows that a tar fever outbreak is occurring in the Ninth Grain Depot," with temperatures exceeding 80 degrees Celsius in the core area. The air is filled with vaporized strong acid and viruses; anyone who steps inside will die instantly.
"I know," Lowe replied calmly. "Because it used to be a body disposal center, there must be plenty of industrial-grade centrifuges stored there."
"However, the high temperature and virus concentration exceeded the limits of our existing protective clothing."
"We have ten finished antibody enzymes." Luo Wei looked at the freezer. "That's enough to support an elite team operating in the contaminated area for 72 hours. As for the high temperatures, we also have ways to deal with them."
Lowe pulled a list out of his pocket; it was clearly creased.
He had just received the material recycling form from Old John.
"Old John salvaged a considerable amount of supplies from the deceased host. Among them were a batch of industrial aprons made of high-polymer insulation material. These were specialized equipment used by laborers when maintaining steam pipes."
He slammed the list down in front of the priest.
"We cut these insulation materials to make the lining of the protective suits, and then modified the interface to load our stock of activated carbon filter canisters."
"Alpha, as a technology priest, this level of physical modification is within your power limits."
99
Father Alpha fell silent.
The core logic is operating at high speed, weighing risk parameters against potential returns.
"This is an extremely risky decision," the priest said in a low voice.
"This is a necessary decision for survival." Rowe put away his tether and patted the priest's cold metal shoulder. "Stop mourning and repair your mechanical tentacles. You have one day to complete the equipment upgrade."
After saying that, Luo Wei turned and walked towards the workshop door.
Behind him, the sorrowful blue light in Father Alpha's electronic eyes flickered several times.
Then the red light was replaced with a red light representing a high-load working state.
"Praise be to the god of all machines."
The priest picked up the welding torch.
The high-temperature electric arc emitted a hissing sound.