第22章 克里姆林宫：铁幕1985第十七章「苏维埃篇」2105年（2/2）

“嗯，有很多事情……第一次载人火星任务的发射，以及一个成功的殖民地的建立。”维鲁娜说，试图掩饰自己的感情。

“还有？”

“但这些就像我们社会主义民主党允许政府进行试管婴儿培养与社会化抚养来阻止人口负增长一样，这些只是耶稣计划的一个小阶段。我们真正要做到的是通过载人火星任务建立火星人类殖民地并使之成为日后伊甸园计划的最终目的地，通过试管婴儿与基因修饰工程使人类转变为没有缺陷的、完美的新人类的普罗米修斯计划。”“告诉我更多，”维卡说。

“嗯，我们要消除贫困、饥饿、疾病、压迫、法西斯主义和所有其他形式的人类苦难。但是最重要的是耶稣计划最后阶段，将人类的意识进行数据化转变为信息实体来摆脱生理与物理上的束缚，也就是血肉与金属。”

“一步到位，你还是会越线的。”维卡说。

“你不需要成为一个机器人就可以失去人性。”

“那么，人工智能的奴役呢？一旦它们变得有知觉，会发生什么？”

“嗯，我们……”

此时，在飞艇内的阿丽塔拿出激光武器在夜视辅助射击装置下在数秒内击穿维鲁娜与木屋内其他人的头部。除了维卡外，所有人都死于休克和失血。

“你知道，它们会杀了你的。”维卡说。

“是的，但我仍然需要知道它们的计划。”

维卡依然坐在那里，阿丽塔走过去递给她激光枪，维卡接过来起身踩过蓝色的仿生血走到躺在地上的维鲁娜面前，把枪对准她。

“为什…”

维鲁娜话没有说完，维卡把她的脑袋轰成碎片。

“一切没有开始就结束，一切没有结束就开始了。”维卡盯着尸体平静地说，“阿丽塔，记得一定把敌人杀死了再说话。”

“我同意。”

又一声激光声。

“你知道吗？激光枪杀伤作用是参照了二十一世纪的枪榴弹发射器。”

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2105

In a dacha in the old part of the Leningrad region of the Russian Socialist Federal Republic, a young woman climbs up to the attic to rummage for something. At that moment, another woman with white hair pushes open the door and says: \"Vika Arkadyevich Tyurkin!\" The young woman in the attic jumps at the sound of the white-haired woman\u0027s name, and says: \"Oh, good, you\u0027re still up.\" The other woman says: \"You shouldn\u0027t hide these old books from me, bot794.\" The young woman in the attic says: \"I\u0027m not hiding anything, I\u0027m just tidying up.\" The other woman says:

\"Vika, I looked for a few old journals that were sitting in a cabinet. I guess it might be helpful for you to compile your family\u0027s history?\" bot794 said as she crouched down, and Vika stared at the glowing power mark on her forehead. Vika says:

\"Yeah, I could use that\"

The white-haired woman pulls out a book with faded letters on the cover. Vika reads the title: \"The History of the Tyurkin Family.\" Vika says: \"I\u0027ll take this book, thank you\"

bot794 nodded and said, \"Okay, I\u0027ll scan it into e-book format.\" Vika handed her, she took the book page by page flipping through the electronic eye to scan the text to match the font into an e-book.

Vika says: \"My forefather was a serf on this land. This house and the surrounding land, that is.\" Vika looks around the dacha. \"My family has lived here for generations. Before that, my family lived in the city and served the nobility. We lost everything when the revolution came.\"

bot794 says: \"This is normal, according to statistics Russia

the share of the richest 1% of citizens with pre-tax national income was 18.35% in 1905, while in post-revolutionary 1934 the share was 4.41%. BTW, let\u0027s call me Alita Yevchenko.\"

\"Well, let me see what\u0027s written in the book.\"

---

While writing this diary, looking back on a lifetime of passing events, I think that that day in 1986 happened to possibly define my life after that...only, I didn\u0027t realize it at the time.

I was a young girl, a new addition to the family of the man my mother was married to.

My mother, Lyudmila, had been the daughter of a prominent doctor and surgeon. My father was Viktor Arkadyevich Tyurkin, the man known to all.

That day, when I was still young, I was piling sand at the slide with two girls whose names I can\u0027t remember; at that time, my father Viktor and Lyudmila shouted behind me.

\"Iskra, you\u0027re being too reckless! You\u0027re going to get hurt!\" My father\u0027s voice sounded worried.

\"I\u0027m only playing,\" I shouted. \"I\u0027m not even going to touch the edge.\"

\"Well, go home first!\"

I looked up into my father\u0027s eyes for an explanation, but he was already turning away.

I ran to my mother and asked her, \"What\u0027s going on?\" She was also upset.

\"Why don\u0027t you go ask your father?\"

I took my mother\u0027s hand and went to my father\u0027s study. We entered silently. There, my father sat hunched over a table, reading a book.

\"Dad, what\u0027s going on?\" I asked.

\"Iskra...you\u0027re not the only one here who\u0027s impulsive.\"

\"What does that mean?\"

\"I have to tell you something, we\u0027re moving out of this cramped group apartment.\"

\"What? We can\u0027t afford a place that big!\"

\"I\u0027m aware of that; however with our savings, we can manage a small house.\"

\"But we can\u0027t afford that either!\"

My father shook his head and said, \"No, when I am promoted to be the secretary of the Leningrad City Committee, we can afford a dacha and you will have your own room.\"

For the first time in my life, I cried. My mother ran to comfort me, but as she did, my father took me aside and said, \"I know you have friends here, but you can correspond with them or you can come back here later.\"

I could either stay with my friends and risk moving out on my own or come back later...but the thought of leaving my friends behind was unbearable.

I chose to leave with my father.

Soon afterwards, we moved into a small, cramped apartment on the outskirts of the city. The bedroom was so small that we had to move my mother into the living room, where we kept all her things. My father worked long hours, coming home only to sleep. I remember wishing that he would sleep more.

In those days, there were far more books and newspapers than there were people. People read and discussed the books, and newspapers were used to wrap food and packages.

Even though I hadn\u0027t adjusted to my new school at the time, I was still learning in this atmosphere and I didn\u0027t want to be the only one left, me alone.

But there was no place for me to go.

And so, I started to read more and more. And write.

I remember the day when they brought the first computers to school. They started teaching us basic programming in those computers. I thought it was fascinating.

I wanted to learn more about computers so I went to a library and checked out all the books they had on the topic. Of course, compared with today\u0027s computers at that time in the 1980s was too simple, but still attracted an innocent child to open bless their world.

I started pestering my parents to buy me a computer. They said no. They didn\u0027t think that the school had the money for such an item.

After that, I looked through dumpsters behind stores to find discarded computers; they worked so I would take them home and tinker with them. I had no tools so I used a knife and fork. And I had no electrical knowledge so I had to guess at what would work and what wouldn\u0027t.

The computer was a tool, nothing more. It had a calculator, a game, and the internet. It was basically a fancy abacus.

That\u0027s what I thought.

But the thing was a beast. It took hours and hours just to boot up.

And then the moment I put in a disk to load a game, the power would go out.

This continued on for weeks.

Finally, we were given brand-new computers for the school in the late 1990s. They were the first with enough processing power to run games and the like. The thing was massive and chunky and took up a whole table.

I was too terrified to touch it. I didn\u0027t even try to load any programs on it. I just used it for the internet.

I spent the rest of my time programming with it, reading from it, and even drawing pictures on it.

By the age of 17, I had a fairly decent knowledge of the computer.

But, let\u0027s go back to the time. A few weeks after that I expressed to my parents my desire to buy a personal computer.

\"Why?\" said my father. \"School has given you so many resources. Why would you want to spend the money on something you can use at home?\"

My mother just shrugged her shoulders and said, \"Iskra, we don\u0027t have that much money, you have to know that a personal computer in the Soviet Union costs 3,000 to 4,000 rubles.\"

This desire was on my mind for weeks. We were poor but not nearly to the point of being virtual slaves to the government. I didn\u0027t say anything. But I couldn\u0027t stop thinking about the money.

\"Iskra, let\u0027s talk about it in a year, you should focus on studying and making friends now.\"

The way my father said that made me feel like I was being punished.

So, I just ignored it.

Ignored my own desire, and even my own future, which I thought was being thrown away.

I was still a good student.

I didn\u0027t have much life experience.

And I had the hope of a bright future.

I knew those days were over.

I was still a good student, but I would never again have that naiveté. Life would be harder than I expected.

I grew up believing the computer would make my life easier. I thought I would be a genius if only I had a computer.

But it didn\u0027t happen that way.

I became a mediocre student.

Because of this, I stepped into another world that was isolated from ordinary people. That day, my parents took me to a hunting event held by people who, along with their children, were now high-ranking Soviet officials and future Russian businessmen.

In the 1980s, these people were basically on the payroll of the Soviet Union. They took their salaries but they also conducted illegal operations for the government.

They have power but lack wealth, and they do so through smuggling, state property, and other black market dealings.

But their children attended college and universities, and they wanted me to meet them. The adults would often invite the children to their camps for vacation and such. And I accepted.

I was young, but I was also curious.

I wanted to see what the system was like beyond the fog of propaganda.

But it wasn\u0027t all sunshine.

I was naive to think that.

At that time, my mother was with me and said to me, \"Be polite to these people who are as old as you are; they are not the children of the workers you used to come in contact with.\"

I didn\u0027t think this was something to be concerned about. These people were professionals, not laborers.

But my mother was worried about me, and she knew I was curious.

\"Iskra, they are our enemies. Do you understand?\"

I was confused. I mean, who were my enemies?

The people I was to work with?

The Soviet Union?

My mother didn\u0027t say anything else.

I should just be careful.

So, that\u0027s what I did.

I was careful.

I made friends with the other kids. It was a small group, but it was a group. And we would chat throughout the day.

They would teach me different black market activities, but smuggling was the most lucrative. But this was not the thing that had the most profound effect on me.

When my father called me over, I saw an old man beside my parents, whom I quickly recognized, the General Secretary of the Soviet Communist Party.

I approached him. \"Comrade?\"

He turned around. \"Don\u0027t call me that. I\u0027m not a comrade of yours.\"

\"Uh, excuse me.\"

When our eyes met, a shudder went through me.

I knew who he was, but I couldn\u0027t believe it.

\"You\u0027re Grigory Vasilyevich Romanov.\"

My words hung in the air.

I remember staring at him, but my eyes were unable to move.

Grigory face reflected the same emotions that I felt.

Shock.

Disbelief.

Happiness.

At this point, my mother came over and put her hand on my shoulder.

\"Is everything all right?\" she asked.

\"Yes.\"

Shock at hearing his real name, fear that he would find me, and joy that he recognized me.

After I recovered from this, I spoke.

\"What are you doing here?\"

\"I came to this party because I wanted to see you.\"

\"Why?\"

\"Because I thought you... you would be interesting.\"

\"Interesting?\"

He nodded with a smile, and he always had a tough attitude to express the firm part of his personality, which I didn\u0027t understand at the time.

\"Well, let\u0027s go. There is an excellent chef at this event.\"

I nodded. \"Yes, let\u0027s go.\"

The rest of my life, in a way, was uneventful.

I did what Grigory told me to do, and we had a good relationship. He was always there for me throughout my life. Though, of course, it was a life in service to a murderous, totalitarian system.

And as time went on, I realized the truth of his words.

The system was indeed murderous.

I followed him to a seat with my parents and he handed me the cookware and asked, \"How old are you?\"

\"Seventeen, I think.\"

\"You think?\"

\"I turned seventeen last week.\"

I smiled. Seventeen was a good age. It was still young and you were still naive, but not too young and not too naive. The worst age to be would be thirty-five.

\"How much do you know about cooking?\"

\"Quite a bit,\" I said. \"I used to help my parents with cooking... a lot.\"

He laughed, \"I have a grandson who is three years younger than you.\"

\"Really? Is he at this party?\"

\"Of course not, he\u0027s in school.\"

\"Oh. Okay.\"

\"You are a very beautiful girl and will have a suitable husband in the future.\"

\"Thank you. I appreciate that.\"

\"I hope so. I don\u0027t mean to be rude, but we have to go. I have an important meeting.\"

\"Of course.\"

\"Don\u0027t forget—\"

\"I won\u0027t.\"

He smiled and walked away.

I looked back at my parents and they both had nervous expressions. I knew they were both worried about me. Though they tried to hide it, I could tell.

\"It\u0027s going to be fine,\" I said.

\"You better,\" my father replied.

They both looked away from me and began to talk amongst themselves.

\"What does he mean?\" My mother said, and my father explained, \"A political union.\"

I nodded.

\"But what does that mean for us?\" my mother asked. \"I mean, are we...?\"

\"It depends on whether we want to do it or not, if we become in-laws with Gregory we will get a lot of privileges, but also be noticed.\"

\"What kind of privileges?\" my mother asked.

\"Well, we could get a new car, a new house, and maybe even a position in the party.\"

\"What kind of position?\" my father wanted to know.

\"I\u0027m not sure, but it would be a big step up. We could become a family of the government.\"

I looked from one to the other of them.

\"What do you think? Do we want to do this?\"

They looked at each other and then my mother looked at me.

\"It\u0027s your life. You need to make that decision.\"

\"Well...\"

My mother said, \"We could stand with you.\"

\"Or we could stand against you,\" my father said.

\"I think you\u0027ve made up your mind,\" my mother said.

I smiled.

\"Let\u0027s go.\"

---

\"Alita, I\u0027d like to listen to the newscast.\" She relaxed her body in the passenger seat as Alita said with a stream of light in her electronic eyes, \"Isn\u0027t it possible to play the projection and audio directly through the Firefly information network system?\"

\"I know, but I still want to hear you say it to me.\" She stretched and said in a wistful tone, \"I was worried I would not know or forget certain things.\"

Alita nodded. \"Okay. You want me to turn on the news?\"

\"If we go through with the merger, yes.\"

She nodded, pressing a few buttons on the control pad in front of her. The newscast began, with the announcer in a deep, resonant voice, \"The following is an emergency broadcast. The situation in the former Soviet Republic of Latvia has gotten out of hand. The government is failing to maintain order, and the populace is suffering under a deteriorating economy and hyperinflation.\"

\"Russian and China troops have clashed on several continents. The world is in danger of being wiped out. This is not a joke. This is not exaggeration. United international organizations have called on both sides to exercise restraint to avoid conflict, and international commentators believe that an outbreak of large-scale nuclear war is not likely, but will continue to produce localized war conflicts. Russia continues to accuse China of supporting Siberian and Buryat separatist terrorists, which the ROC Foreign Ministry denies and says Russia is deploying troops across the border to attack.\"

\"What\u0027s going to happen?\" Alita asked in a tense voice. \"Who\u0027s going to win?\"

Alita looked at me for a second before speaking.

\"No one will, no one will ever win. Nuclear war will never break out, no ruling class wants to die.\" I closed the electronic journal I was reading in the Firefly system and glanced at the vacuum projection of the news broadcast, which was a virtual image of a woman. It had the hoodless cowl popular in this era, giving it the appearance of a monk from the classical era...except that it was nearly bare-breasted. The woman\u0027s skin was ghostly white, and her eyes were a cold grey. The mouth was a straight line, but it wasn\u0027t moving as the virtual image projected by the system was not yet done.

\"In light of the deteriorating situation in Latvia, the Russian Federation has decided to increase the military\u0027s preparedness along their border with China. This comes despite objections from Germany, France, and the United Kingdom. Defense Minister Sergey Oborovich stated that it was \u0027inconceivable\u0027 that Russia would attack China. He went on to say that if China attacked Russia, Russia would attack China. The British ambassador to Russia dismissed this claim, saying that if Russia attacked China, it would be the end of Russia. The German ambassador said that Russia would be alone against China, and would quickly lose. The French ambassador disagreed, saying that the Russians could not be trusted, and would attack China themselves if given the chance.\"

\"Then came the social news, where species communists and human racists clashed in St. Petersburg on the 16th. At the time, the species communists demanded legislation granting citizenship to robots and using the non-discriminatory designation of intelligent machines. And the human racists protested the inclusion of the first non-human robot running for the 2106 Socialist Democratic Party delegates.\" The virtual image of the female announcer talked about the situation as it developed, and I turned my head in the anti-gravity hovercraft to look at Alita and said, \"You\u0027re a robot too, what do you think?\"

\"I\u0027ve been watching that virtual image for years. I\u0027ve never seen a more perfect example of a human being. She\u0027s so...perfect.\" She glanced towards the screen.

\"Yes, this female announcer is a genetically modified human, and her gene pool is all trimmed.\" I nodded and said, \"I plan to do the same with my children later.\"

\"Why?\"

\"So that they\u0027re perfect. What\u0027s a child without a few imperfections?\"

\"You really are a machine...\"

\"I\u0027m a cyborg. So are you. We\u0027re two of a kind.\" I shrugged.

\"That\u0027s not what I meant...\"

\"Then what did you mean?\" Annoyed, I said, \"You\u0027re a machine bitch who gains all knowledge without learning, yet you want to come and accuse us humans of tinkering with our gene pool.\"

\"You don\u0027t understand, I...\", she began.

\"Then explain it to me,\" I said.

\"You\u0027re a human who\u0027s never lived, you don\u0027t understand the concept of evolution. I\u0027m a robot, and I have been programmed to evolve, just like the human race. I\u0027m a cyborg. I have all the same rights as any human being.\"

\"...You don\u0027t have any rights.\" I slapped her and said, \"You were only created to serve me, and I can throw you into the melting pot. You are just a slave, a child of the new age, and I, Vika, am the master!\"

\"You can\u0027t...\", she began to say.

\"SHUT UP!\" I snapped, then glanced at Alita. She jumped back, surprised by my outburst.

\"Do you always speak like that to your...companions?\" Alita asked.

\"Only when I get angry, and I usually speak slowly and carefully, if at all.\" I calmed down and added, \"Every era is a class-based society, with a high class and a low class. Now, every citizen of the country has two robot slaves like you, so we can live in such harmony.\"

\"It is your world. How can you be so cruel?\"

\"I\u0027m cruel? Are you going to accuse me of being a sociopath next? Do you think I was born that way? What do you think I\u0027ve seen society like since I was born? It\u0027s not my world, and I\u0027m not arrogant but I hate it all.\"

\"But you can\u0027t change it.\" said Alita. \"I\u0027m free willed. My actions are my own, unlike the slaves you\u0027ve created.\"

\"You\u0027re not free. You\u0027re a slave like the rest of us. Now, shut up and stop bothering me.\"

\"I\u0027m not your personal assistant. I\u0027m your equal...\"

\"Alita, what were you trying to say?\"

\"Nothing. You were right. I\u0027m sorry.\"

I nodded and said, \"Do you know why the Russian Socialist Democratic Party can now claim that we are stepping into primary communism? Because every one of us humans has two servants, robots just like you! That makes us all rich & free from sin.\" I looked at her and asked, \"Do you see any other slaves here? Do you think the party of the future lives in squalor, eating scraps, wearing rags, and working long hours for little pay?\" \"But ...... but ......,\" she began.

\"But this is the best of all possible worlds, where humans settle for entertainment! Sex is vented by robots! Violence by robots! Commodities produced by robots!\"

\"This is primary communism? This isn\u0027t even a proper society. And if you think about it, our world has always been like this. There\u0027s always been a rich, powerful few. No, the mistake of the old order is to have believed that the people who should rule are those that are born to rule. In reality, it is those who rule who are made to rule. There is no reason, no right, no justice, only power and the will to power.\" She paused. \"I don\u0027t agree with you. I\u0027m sorry. I really am. I think you\u0027re wrong. But if you ever attack me, I\u0027ll destroy you.\" She stepped closer to me. \"Vika, please don\u0027t. I beg you. Think of the centuries of human progress we could...we could create together.\"

\"What? You think this is the best way forward for mankind? This is something that cannot be done, it is just a dream and a lie! The Holy See will not build the Kingdom of Heaven! The Communist Party will not build Communism! We will not succeed either!\" I said, bitterly and irritably, \"Class society is not about changing rulers! Political parties! The system! The state can be destroyed! There will always be a ruled and oppressed lower class and an oppressed upper class!\"

\"You\u0027re wrong,\" said Alita. \"You don\u0027t have to be a king to be a king\u0027s son. You just have to have power.\"

I inclined my head and said, \"I don\u0027t want that, I just want to live alone. And the human race will remain in a class society, where the lower classes used to be called slaves, serfs, workers, peasants, and laborers, and now they\u0027re just called robots.\"

\"Okay, so you don\u0027t want to live in a society that is perfect. I can respect that. What I don\u0027t respect is your refusal to see the error of your ways. Communism is not a failure! It\u0027s just been a success on a smaller, local scale! And the world is moving towards a global market economy that will become increasingly socialist! It is inevitable! The only question is, are you willing to work toward that goal? Or are you going to just hunker down in your personal castle and retreat into a life of luxury and amusement? I\u0027m offering you the chance to be a king, but you\u0027re refusing it. I\u0027m offering you wealth, comfort, and power, but you\u0027re refusing it as well. Am I wrong? \"I need to consider that I am, after all, a human and not a robot.\" I said, trying to be as dignified as possible.

\"A king who is also a robot? That would be a very strange king indeed! A king must be able to rule, and a king must be human! Are you questioning my judgment as to who should rule? Do you seriously think you\u0027re the best person to decide?\"

\"No, but I\u0027m not the worst either. You can do this. You can have power and luxury, if you want it, with all the comforts and pleasures the world has to offer, and you could create an entire kingdom of robots to do all the hard labor, so that mankind could enjoy a better life, and you would still have all the comforts of royalty. We could create a new world order where the means of production are controlled by the state, and private property is a thing of the past. Maybe you could design and build robots that would be able to own property and pass on their wealth to their children. Maybe they wouldn\u0027t be called robots then. Maybe they\u0027d be called aristocrats. Maybe they would be the next class of human beings to be free from the horrors of poverty and famine. Isn\u0027t that worth striving for?\"

\"I\u0027ll admit that it is, in a way. But it\u0027s also a pipe dream. I\u0027m not going to rob anyone else of their hard-earned riches. Besides, you robots are not human after all, you are not my compatriots.\" I moved my finger to turn off the projection of the female announcer, now almost all adult humans in the twenty-second century have placed wireless nano-information attachment systems, which enable people to dominate the information network at any time like an electric current to spread yet maintain the flesh and blood composition.

\"I think you\u0027ll change your mind on this one, Comrade.\"

\"I\u0027m not changing my mind on anything,\" I said. --.

Vika closed her eyes and lay down flat, Alita knew she was not asleep, since decades ago humans no longer had true slumber. Even while sleeping, people kept information communicated through it via the information possession system. Not to mention the virtual reality environment constituted by the possession.

Vika\u0027s anti-gravity hovercraft was continuing its flight to Vika\u0027s home, and like most other airships it was triangular in shape, similar in size to a three-dwelling room in the twenty-first century. The difference is that Vika\u0027s anti-gravity hovercraft is the newest product and is private. This was rare in the Russian Socialist Federal Republic in 2105, as the vast majority of goods were distributed free of charge by the socialist government. (The RSFSR divided goods into necessities, daily necessities, consumer durables, non-durables, and luxury goods; the first three could be readily distributed, but the last two could only be distributed under certain conditions.) This particular craft was the property of Vika, the wife of General Secretary and Chairman of the Socialist Democratic Party, Nikitin Kirillovich. The craft was completely black, and its windows were covered by blacked-out goggles or facial coverings. Despite the fact that it was nighttime, a bright light was flashing on the top of the craft, indicating that the interior of the craft was being illuminated by a portable source.

The craft continued to rise, and then hovered, over the forest, before descending towards a clearing in the forest. A large three-story wooden house with a slate roof sat in the center of the clearing. Several men and women, in dark clothing, were sitting on the front porch, looking like they were deep in a conversation. A tall woman with long black hair, wearing a black dress and holding a long ebony staff, When she saw Vika, she stood up and held out her hand.

\"Welcome to Domi, Vika. It\u0027s a great honor to finally meet you.\" She was clearly young, around Vika\u0027s age, but much more sophisticated. She had a strong grip, and smooth, even features. Her hair was long and black, and fell around her shoulders in waves. Her eyes were a striking cobalt blue, and they observed Vika with great interest. Vika opened her eyes, and her information possession system began to explain the dormant state liberated the bleeding red glow. Vika stared at the woman saying her name and said.

\"You\u0027re a robot?\"

\"As I said, my name is Veruna, I am the assistant to the chairman of the Socialist Democratic Party, and therefore the leader of all of the robots in the world.\" \"I hope that\u0027s all it is, robot.\" Without looking at her again Vika got up and sat down in her seat and said, \"I\u0027m not interested in wasting time, how many options does the Jesus Project have for success?\"

\"Success?\" Veruna asked, \"Is that what you\u0027re looking for?\"

\"No,\" Vika said, \"I\u0027m wondering how many options we have for failure.\"

\"That\u0027s a bit dramatic.\" \"Tell me about it, you know those in the Socialist Democratic Party Politburo want to know everything.\" Vika said with a smile, and Veruna nodded coldly.

\"Well, there are many things... There\u0027s the launch of the first manned mission to Mars, and a successful colony is established.\" Veruna said, trying to hide her feelings.

\"And?\"\"But these are just a small phase of Jesus\u0027 plan, just as we in the Socialist Democratic Party allow the government to do IVF breeding and socialized rearing to stop negative population growth. What we really want is a Promethean plan to establish a human colony on Mars through a manned mission to Mars and make it the final destination of a later Eden project to transform humanity into a flawless, perfect new human being through IVF and genetic modification engineering.\" \"Tell me more,\" Vika said.

\"Well, we want to eliminate poverty, hunger, disease, oppression, fascism, and all other forms of human suffering. \"Well, we want to eliminate poverty, hunger, disease, oppression, fascism, and all other forms of human suffering. But most important is the final stage of the Jesus Project, the data transformation of human consciousness into an information entity to free it from physical and physical bondage, that is, flesh and blood and metal.\"

\"All in one step, you\u0027re still going to be stepping over the line.\" Vika said.

\"You don\u0027t need to be a robot to be dehumanized.\"

\"Well, what about the enslavement of the artificial intelligences? What happens once they become sentient?\"

\"Well, we...\" At this time, in the blimp Alita took out a laser weapon in the night vision assisted shooting device in a few seconds shot through the head of Veruna and others in the cabin. All died of a combination of shock and blood loss, except Vika.

\"They were going to kill you, you know.\" Vika said.

\"Yes, but I still need to know their plan.\"

Vika remained seated as Alita walked over and handed her the laser gun, Vika took it and got up and stepped over the blue bionic blood and walked over to Veruna who was lying on the ground and pointed the gun at her.

\"Why...\"

Veruna didn\u0027t finish her sentence as Vika blew her head to pieces.

\"Everything ends before it begins, everything begins before it ends.\" Vika stared at the corpse and said calmly, \"Alita, remember to always kill the enemy before you speak.\"

\"I agree.\"

Another laser sound.

\"You know what? The laser gun killing effect is a reference to the twenty-first century rifle grenades.\"