Corporation producing Clone Soldiers

The square was full of people, and Nar-Tai thought that most of the people were dressed in the casual clothes worn by the residents of decaying Lickbon or pompous Jokyo - if it weren't for the inscriptions on the banners, written in Kasakhian, he could have sworn that he had never left Jopon.

But of course they weren't. Besides, he didn't have much time to take in the splendor around him, because the guards were walking very fast and soon came out onto the roadway, where they immediately opened the doors of a black limousine.

"I'll give you a ride with the wind in your hair!" the driver in the aerodrome cap immediately stuck his head out of the car. "But I warn you - the air conditioning in my car doesn't work!"

"No problem," Ando answered him with a smile in perfect Kasakhian and sat down in the front seat. "Let's go! Just don't rush, my head hurts... And why are you standing there like a pillar?" he asked Nar-Tai and made an inviting gesture with his hand.

Nar-Tai, who was somewhat surprised by such a rapid development of events, finally came to his senses and sat down in the back seat, noticing to his relief that two stern guards closed the door behind him and remained standing on the road, watching the car drive away.

Thank Antichrist, Nar-Tai thought, because he couldn't stand another few dozen minutes in the presence of these thugs. He didn't know who exactly made up his and Ando's honorary escort, but he guessed that they might have been mercenaries paid out of Jorge Osorio's own pocket.

Apparently, this mysterious gentleman wanted to make sure that Nar-Tai would not change his mind, and therefore hired these thugs to accompany him during his entire stay on the territory of the Alma-Thou monorail station.

But Nar-Tai didn't think about it. He was too busy looking at the world around him from the window of the car, which at that time was driving fast through the streets of his hometown Alma-Thou.

As he had already noticed, it was similar to all the other cities he had seen before - the skyscrapers did not let him lie. But unlike Jokyo, where he was just a guest and had no rights to that place in the sun, here he had an apartment and a residence permit, and he felt like a full-fledged owner here.

As they say, at home even the walls help. But still, he could not get rid of the thought that he should not expect anything easy and cool from Jorge Osorio, who had recently become his unofficial master.

Soon the car stopped at a building that looked like the Moscow State University building, only without the tower in the middle. Nar-Tai got out of the car and waited for Ando, who was sitting next to the driver, to pay and get out. When the Joponese man finally got out, Nar-Tai noticed a strange smile on his face.

He didn't understand its meaning and decided to ask Ando about it a little later - when they were alone in some quiet place. But for now he decided not to linger by the car and went to the building on foot - especially since it was very close.

Nar-Tai had never seen such luxury in person before and was filled with a sense of pride for his country.

He even thought about signing up as a permanent employee, but he suppressed this idiotic impulse in time - what's the point of hanging around day and night within four walls, even such luxurious ones as the building he was standing next to now? He would still be a free wolf, and no one would be able to put a chain on him!

Thinking thus, he raised his eyes to the front entrance, and his heart involuntarily sank - he saw that above the entrance hung a huge stone bas-relief of four letters of the Latin alphabet, painted red.

All in all, they spelled out "VRLJ." Nar-Tai didn't know what that abbreviation stood for. He thought of "VioletRavenLionJackal" - but he decided that he shouldn't bother with that for now.

"What, it's a gorgeous view, isn't it?" he heard Ando's voice, standing right behind his shoulder.

Nar-Tai nodded, silently agreeing with this statement, and then moved away, but a shout from his friend stopped him.

"Where are you flying to? You don't know where to go! Follow me, I know the way," said Ando and rushed forward.

Whether she wanted to or not, Nar-Tai had to humbly lower her gaze and follow the Joponese man. They passed through the huge entrance doors and found themselves in a lobby that was striking in its grandeur: high glass walls let in bright light, reflecting in metal surfaces.

In the center of the hall there was a stylish reception desk, behind which sat a girl in a formal suit, busy with her own affairs. Nar-Tai felt the tension: everything here breathed power and ambition. He involuntarily wondered what the rest would be like, since even at the entrance he encountered such an atmosphere.

The Joponese walked towards the reception desk with the confidence he had developed over the years, not paying attention to the luxury that reigned in the lobby - the walls decorated with abstract paintings and the glittering marble on the floor. The girl behind the counter, noticing the people who entered, looked up and, holding back a smile, said:

"Welcome to VioletRavenLionJackal! What do you want?"

Ando, without being distracted from his goal, nodded politely and began to explain the essence of his visit.

"Allow me to introduce Narbulat Tairymbayev," with these words he stepped back and pointed to Nar-Tai standing behind him. "I would like to arrange a meeting for him personally with Jorge."

"Ah, Mister Tairymbayev!" the girl smiled. "You just happened to have an appointment for today!"

"I see," was all he said in response.

"Please come in, Mister Osorio is waiting for you," the girl said and pointed to the corridor, which, apparently, led to the office of the corporation owner. "The last door on the right..."

"Let's go," Ando whispered in his ear and pushed him forward.

Nar-Tai followed the Joponese man, feeling like a puppet being pulled by an invisible puppeteer. He felt annoyed at the fact that he had to obey his friend - but even stronger was the feeling of shame in front of the girl standing at the reception desk.

After all, she had never seen him before, so she didn't really know anything about him except that he had some business with her boss. He felt like he was being led like a lamb to the slaughter, and it was humiliating. But he couldn't help himself - after all, Ando was his friend and he simply had no other choice.

And so they walked down the corridor and stopped at the last door on the right, on which hung a simple sheet of A4 paper with VRLJ written in Arial. The sharp contrast between the luxurious architecture and the cheap sign brought a smile to Nar-Tai's face, but Ando didn't give him time to think: pushing the door with his foot like a seasoned marine, he walked inside, and Nar-Tai had no choice but to follow his example.

He found himself in a small, square office with a low ceiling and walls painted the color of a child's surprise. In the center of the office stood a remarkably unremarkable desk made of some dark wood, the entire surface of which was covered with scratches and traces of ink.

On it stood a Fujitsu Siemens laptop, ancient as mammoth shit, which looked like it had been pulled out of a dusty closet where rats had been having fun. The blue tape that was wrapped around the charging cable indicated that the owner of the laptop was a person who was trying to squeeze everything possible out of his equipment and did not want to spend money on such an insignificant thing as buying a new cable to replace the old one.

There were several chairs for visitors near the table, on one of which lay crumpled paper napkins, and under one of them was a folded in half white newspaper "Fuckonto Star" from May 18, 1982, on top of which was written in bold marker in Russian the inscription "Den, kogda rodilas eta shlukha" (rus. "The day this whore was born")

Nar-Tai felt as if, having stepped over the threshold of this office, he had immediately moved into the past forty years, if not forty-two. But this feeling quickly passed, and another feeling appeared in its place - he finally understood the reason for his strange state - the fact is that at the table sat a small, crooked man of indeterminate age, but very short - one meter forty-nine or so.

He had some kind of thin hairdo of matted hair the color of rotten blue plums, and this guy was dressed in a crumpled white shirt with torn off buttons and chalk-smeared trousers of such a kind that it immediately became clear that they originated from a garbage dump.

This little man silently looked straight ahead with a fixed gaze of his black eyes and nervously moved his upper lip, which made it seem as if he was whispering something, although Nar-Tai did not hear a single sound except for the beating of his own heart and the hum of the air conditioner above his head...

And suddenly the gaze of the little black beads was directed straight at him. Their owner shuddered with his whole body and immediately stopped moving his upper lip, but his facial expression remained the same - a mixture of dull indifference mixed with disgust.

Nar-Tai felt extremely awkward when the owner of the office began to study him with his tiny eyes, which looked so strange on his face that it seemed as if their owner suffered from either nearsightedness or strabismus at the same time.

Then he suddenly smiled, but a second later Nar-Tai realized that it was not a smile at all, but simply a nervous tic of inexplicable origin. He stared at Nar-Tai again, and Nar-Tai felt even more awkward.

Finally, the owner of the office spoke: his voice was muffled and lisping, and, as if that weren't enough, he also had a strong lisp.

"Ah, hi-hi-hi-i-i-i," these were the first words that sounded in this office. "Hello, Ando. How are you? What's new in the world?.. And who is this stern and brutal one with you?" with these words the owner of the office turned to Nar-Tai.

"And this," Ando took matters into his own hands, "is Narbulat Tairymbayev. He is a local, so you can speak without ceremony in his presence."

"That's great," the man said in a tone that made Nar-Tai realize it was time for a serious conversation. "Well, tell me. What can you offer me?"

This unexpected question left Nar-Tai stumped. He didn't know what to answer. Ando was also silent - apparently he wanted his friend to understand what he needed to say.

But Nar-Tai was slow to respond. Then the owner of the office had to raise his voice.

"I'm listening!" he said loudly, so that it sounded like an order.

Nar-Tai cleared his throat three times in a row before speaking, and only then began his speech in the quiet voice of a man who does not want to argue with anyone.

"I don't know what you want from me, so I'm not going to answer your question.

"Oh, so!" exclaimed his interlocutor. "So you refuse to work for us?"

"Sorry, I have nothing to do with it," Nar-Tai answered honestly. "You told me something on the phone, but I didn't understand you very well then... Maybe you could explain clearly what you're doing here?"

"Have a seat," the owner of the office waved his hand instead of answering.

Nar-Tai didn't need to be persuaded for long and sat down on the chair - the very one under which the newspaper "Fuckonto Star" from May 18, 1982 was lying on the floor, on top of which was written in bold marker in Russian "Den, kogda rodilas eta shlukha" (rus. "The day this whore was born"). Ando, who had been standing silently all this time, also followed his example.

True, he had to sweep the paper napkins lying on the seat onto the floor, but the owner didn't seem to mind. There was silence for a few seconds - all three were silent, thinking about the situation. Then the man at the table looked up at the ceiling.

Nar-Tai also looked there - the ceiling was covered with a thick layer of dust and looked as gloomy as the walls of the office, the only bright thing in which was a single window overlooking the street, which was located directly opposite the front door. The owner of the office intercepted his gaze and decided that it was time for a serious conversation.

"We are engaged in the production of biological weapons," he began without further ado. "Specifically, the creation of artificial clone soldiers. They are, of course, not people. Just living organisms. But, as you understand, very similar to people. And in this sense, they need to undergo training and preparation, just like living soldiers. And this, as you understand, is not so easy. That is why we hire people from the outside..." he paused for greater effect, "so that they can teach our clone soldiers everything that is required of living fighters in battle! Do you understand?"

"To be honest, it's hard," Nar-Tai squeezed out, "but I think I'm starting to guess what you meant when you told me that time on the phone, 'I want to make you a drill instructor.'"

"I don't argue, it's great that you remembered my words so accurately," the owner of the office sneered contemptuously, "but you're not a parrot, excuse me, so don't think that this ability of yours will be useful to me."

Having swallowed the insult, Nar-Tai nodded his head: as if to say, he understood, the matter was closed...

"You know, I've been running this corporation for half a century, so I know what I'm talking about," the little man continued. "We produce soldiers, and people like you train them, is that clear?"

"Everything, well, not everything," Nar-Tai allowed himself to smile. "Of course, I understand what you mean. But I can't understand why you assumed that I can perform the duties of this "drill instructor" of yours. I'm not a military man. And to be honest, I don't even really understand anything about this business. And you just went and said out of the blue that I should teach your soldiers. Of course, I'm not against it - I'm ready to do anything so that you don't get offended. But I don't understand why you chose me? Why not Ando?"

At the last words, Nar-Tai poked the Joponese in the shoulder. The latter, apparently not expecting such a turn of the conversation and even slightly confused by the surprise - or perhaps simply abruptly awakened from a nap - abruptly jumped up from his chair and, standing at attention in front of the owner of the office - apparently, he was his immediate superior, despite Ando's words - reported:

"Jorge, I can't. I told you that..." he hesitated and blushed. "I can't just say that I can't. I'm a human being too... And then - I have a family! My sonnie was born literally yesterday, and that's not counting my eight-year-old daughter and my wife, who runs the whole household alone in my absence! I can't, Jorge! I can't..."

"Shut up, Ando," Jorge good-naturedly stopped the Joponese man's verbal diarrhea. "I'll talk to him myself. And I'll just tell you that in vain did you pretend in your own house to Mister Tairymbayev that my corporation deals with hardware. You've gone too far with the conspiracy, Ando, that's not right! Look, look how confused our guest is about it!" with these words he looked at Nar-Tai with a sly look in his eyes.

Nar-Tai realized that he had fallen into a trap. He no longer doubted that they wanted to use him for a very dirty job and were now waiting for him to agree.

But he wasn't going to give in so easily. He decided he had to be cunning - and started with a question to the point:

"What does a "drill instructor" do? Is that like an officer training soldiers? Just don't tell me about instructors from military schools!"

"No," Jorge replied. "He's just a person who, by his own example, demonstrates to his charges the correct behavior in tense combat conditions."

"You know, I'm not really drawn to trying on the role of a military specialist," said Nar-Tai, frowning as he looked anywhere but at Jorge's face.

"These are not exactly military matters," the interlocutor smiled, "although some aspects of them do take place. The thing is this: our soldiers must be able to fight without weapons, with their bare hands, in any weather or any circumstances, regardless of where they are at the moment."

"Well, I can basically explain this to any fool like you in five minutes without any complications," Nar-Tai answered, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I would ask you not to beat around the bush and just get straight to what the fuck I should do?"

"Please don't swear!" Jorge raised his voice. "Do you want to know what we are willing to pay you for?"

"By the way, how are you going to pay me?" Nar-Tai intercepted the initiative like a Jew. "Ando, I remember, said something like "you give me hardware, and I have to install Windows for you". I already understood what Windows they were talking about, but what hardware you are going to pay me with, I have not yet, excuse me!"

"How do I know what that Joponese guy meant when he talked about some kind of "hardware" out of a love of secrecy?" the owner of the office got seriously angry. "Maybe he meant something else, and you just didn't understand. But that's not important - the main thing is..." here Jorge paused and looked at Nar-Tai with an expression on his face as if he had just remembered something important, "the main thing is that we are offering you a job that doesn't require any effort from you. You will simply sit in your office and have heart-to-heart talks with our soldiers, okay?"

"So why didn't you say so right away? That's what you should have started with!" Nar-Tai said with a spiritual uplift. "Otherwise, I already thought that you wanted to send me to the front."

"No, you'll sit in the rear like a staff rat," Jorge said sarcastically. "And you, Ando?" he turned to the Joponese.

He silently nodded his head and sat down on a chair, apparently realizing that arguing was useless... But Nar-Tai, who already understood what was required of him, no longer needed to be persuaded.

He had already understood everything and was not going to find out anything more - he just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, before it was too late. So he said:

"I agree, sir! But I have one condition. I want you to explain to me - what kind of soldiers are these? How do they, excuse the expression, come into the world and how are they prepared?"

"Oh, that's a very interesting topic, but more on that later," Jorge answered evasively.

"Are you crazy?" Nar-Tai flared up. "Do you want me, like a complete loser, to have no idea what my charges are like, with whom I will have to deal?"

"You will, but not now," said Jorge and, getting up from the table, went to the window. "Now we will go to a place where you will see these soldiers. Just look at them, of course, you will not have to train them."

"This is, of course, not a bad idea, but I must ultimately understand how they are produced," Nar-Tai insisted.

He knew deep down that he wouldn't get an answer. And so it turned out.

"Do you really think that when a teacher works at a school, he cares about the positions, excuse me, in which the fathers of underage idiots fucks at their wives in the pussy?" Jorge said unexpectedly rudely.

"That's not what I meant at all," Nar-Tai said, dumbfounded.

"I don't give a damn what you meant!" the owner of the office spat. "Do as you're told and don't bullshit!"

"Okay, okay," Nar-Tai gave in, concluding that it was better to agree with a man like Jorge on everything. "You're right."

"That's great," the owner of the office returned to his previous peaceful tone.

Having said this, he came close to Nar-Tai, and he felt the faint smell of alcohol coming from him, mixed with the aroma of unwashed underwear. Jorge put his hand on his shoulder.

The touch was surprisingly strong for such a frail man, but Nar-Tai promised himself that he would never again be surprised by anything within the walls of this office.

He even closed his eyes so as not to see Jorge's sly gaze, which at that moment was literally devouring him with his eyes.

"Let's go," Ando, who had been sitting silently by the wall to the left of the table, suddenly butted into their conversation. "Time flies... We're already late! And here you are chatting about who knows what!"

"You're right," Jorge smiled in response and finally removed his hand from Nar-Tai's shoulder.

The latter was only glad that his narrow-eyed friend had spared him the pleasure of spending a few more dubious minutes within these cramped walls.

He followed the Joponese, with the bow-legged Jorge nipping at his heels from behind.