Chapter 5: The Door of Nightmares

I. Exploring Alone

The morning mist had not yet dissipated, like the chill of the Hudson River condensing in the air. The cold wind whistled on the rooftop of the hospital, blowing across the gauze on Niu Aihua's face. The blood dried into a dark red color, sticking to the skin and stinging unbearably. She stood on the edge, overlooking the vague outline of Brooklyn. The wind messed up her short hair, as if tearing her thoughts. Jeffers was still unconscious in the ward, and the beeping of the ventilator was like an invisible knife slashing through her heart. She clenched the note that Lao Chen handed her last night, her nails almost embedded in her palm, and the handwriting on the paper was crooked but dazzling: "Server in Area C, seventh floor, destroy it." She looked down at the Sun Umbrella headquarters building. The glass curtain wall flickered in the fog, like a sleeping giant beast, and the red umbrella-shaped signal light was looming, as if challenging her determination. She gritted her teeth and whispered, "This time, I'm alone."

The image of Jeffers being pierced by steel bars appeared in her mind, the ground was stained with blood, and his eyes before he fainted were weak but firm, as if saying, "Don't stop." She whispered, "Hold on, I have to finish." She took a deep breath, the air was mixed with the smell of disinfectant from the hospital and the salty smell of the dock, and whispered, "Brother, Jeffers, I owe you, I have to pay it back."

Back in the apartment, the room was as dark as an unattended grave, only the faint morning light from the window outlined the shadows of the tables and chairs. She turned on the light, and her shadow was cast on the wall, like a lonely silhouette. She changed into a black jacket, with an electric baton on her waist, and a backpack filled with tools: lock pick, flashlight, miniature camera, each tool was cold and heavy, as if reminding her of the danger of this trip. She took out Zhou Ming's gold-stamped black card, stared at the "C-17" label, stroked her fingers across the metal surface, and whispered: "Brother, are you also in Area C?" The last time her brother disappeared flashed through her mind. He was sitting on the sofa, the red dot on his wrist was as bright as blood, and whispered: "Aihua, don't worry about me, they are more terrible than you think." She didn't take it seriously at the time, but now that sentence is like a thorn in her heart.

She took a deep breath, and the air was still filled with the pungent smell of turpentine last night, like a ghost that would not dissipate. She pushed the door open and went out. The mist engulfed her back. Her boots stepped on the wet and cold ground, making a dull sound of footsteps, like beating a war drum. She whispered: "Sun Umbrella, seventh floor, here I come."

2. False appearance

The door of the Sun Umbrella headquarters was as cold as usual, and the glass curtain wall reflected the faint light in the mist, like a cold mirror. Niu Aihua put on a cap and lowered her head to blend in with a group of deliverymen. The brim of the cap covered half of her face, hiding the murderous intent in her eyes. She swiped the side door with a fake visitor's card and walked into the lobby. The marble floor was dazzling, like countless eyes staring at her. The air was filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant, like a mixture of a hospital and a laboratory. The deliverymen pushed carts full of cartons, their footsteps were messy, and she whispered, "Well covered."

The receptionist was not at work, and the empty front desk was like an unattended trap. A public relations manager came up, wearing a gray suit, with a formal smile like a mask. She introduced herself: "I am Linda Stone, police officer, visiting again?" Her voice was soft but tentative, and her fingers tapped the folder lightly, as if to cover up some kind of uneasiness.

"I want to see Area C." Niu Aihua got straight to the point, her hand on the electric baton at her waist, her tone was as cold as a knife, and her eyes pierced Linda's eyes.

Linda chuckled, her smile froze for a moment, and then returned to her natural state: "Zone C is just a data center, there's nothing to see. Let's take you to the research room and show you our legal projects." She turned around and led the way, her high heels making crisp "clicking" sounds, as if knocking on Niu Aihua's patience. She deliberately slowed down her pace, glanced at Niu Aihua sideways, and whispered: "You seem to be very interested in our company. Didn't you have enough fun last time?"

Niu Aihua didn't answer, her eyes swept across the hall. The poster on the wall read "The Future Starts Here". The painting showed a smiling scientist holding a tablet with a glass building in the background. She sneered and whispered: "Have fun? You hid it well enough."

Linda pushed open a door marked "Sleep Optimization Laboratory". Inside were several neat single beds, equipped with heart rate monitors and brain wave monitors, like a carefully arranged stage. A poster hung on the wall: "Enhance Human Potential", the font was bright red and dazzling. Several white-coated employees pretended to be busy, typing as rhythmically as robots, and the waveform on the screen was meaningless, like a poor performance. Niu Aihua glanced coldly. The bed sheets were so flat that no one had slept on them. The air only smelled of disinfectant, without a trace of living people. She sneered: "Is this what you call "research"? It's a very realistic performance."

Linda nodded, smiling: "All volunteers are undergoing short-term monitoring here, legal and compliant." She handed over a document, and the paper exuded a minty scent, as if to cover up some kind of smell. The document records showed that Zhou Ming had only worked for seven days, and his signature was sloppy, as if it was hastily forged. She pointed to the signature: "Everything is transparent, you can rest assured."

Niu Aihua opened the document and her eyes fell on the "C-17" number, which was consistent with Zhou Ming's black card. She clenched her fists, her nails dug into her palms, and whispered, "Fake." Her voice was low and angry, and the cabin of the dock flashed through her mind. She whispered, "Your transparency is stained with blood."

3. The truth of the label

Linda turned around to answer the phone, her voice deliberately lowered, as if she was hiding something. Niu Aihua caught a glimpse of the security guard at the end of the corridor. There was a bunch of keys hanging around his waist, one of which was engraved with "C-17", and the metal gleamed coldly under the light. Zhou Ming's label flashed through her mind, and her heartbeat accelerated, like a drum beating. It was not fake, it was real! She whispered, "C Zone, here I come."

The security guard approached, his steps were heavy, and the "S.U.C" logo on his uniform was like an ominous brand. Niu Aihua pretended to squat down to tie her shoelaces, lowered her head to avoid his sight, and her boots stepped silently on the floor. While he was passing by, she swept his leg and knocked him down, moving as fast as a shadow, and the security guard fell with a muffled groan. She slashed at the back of his neck with her knife, and his eyes rolled back, and he fell to the ground. She took off the "C-17" key, the metal was cold, and her fingertips felt like Zhou Ming's cold wrist. She whispered, "I'm sorry." There was a hint of apology in her voice, and Zhou Ming's face appeared in her mind, and she whispered, "For you."

Linda turned around, the phone slipped from her hand, and shouted, "What are you doing!" Her voice was sharp, like a torn mask, and she staggered over. Niu Aihua ignored her and ran straight to the freight elevator deep in the corridor, her boots stomping on the floor, as if declaring war. She swiped open the elevator door, and there was a sign inside that said "Zone C - Experimental Field", the handwriting was blurred, as if corroded by time. She clenched the key, and when the elevator descended, the buzzing sound numbed her eardrums, like a huge machine roaring. She whispered, "Seventh floor, don't let me down." Her heartbeat quickened, and her brother's letter came to her mind: "Seventh floor is a black hole, don't get close." She whispered, "Black hole, I'll jump in."

IV. The Secret of the Distillery

The elevator stopped on the third floor underground. As soon as the door opened, a damp and rancid smell came to her face, mixed with the smell of bitter almonds, like a mixture of rotten fruit and chemicals. She pushed open a heavy metal door and walked into a huge circular hall. The lights were dim, like the entrance to hell. The air was filled with low mechanical hums, like countless souls whispering. She held her breath, and the scene in front of her was like a nightmare: dozens of transparent cabins were neatly arranged, like the culture chambers in science fiction movies, with sleeping people lying inside, with electrodes connected to their heads and catheters inserted in their wrists. Light blue liquid flowed slowly, as if extracting their lives. The screen outside the cabin was jumping with data: "Dream extraction progress: 77%", the numbers were cold, like a countdown to death.

She approached a cabin, and inside was a young man, his face as pale as paper, his eyelids trembling, as if struggling in a nightmare, with a label "C-17-09" on his chest, the same number as Zhou Ming. The "SU" mark next to the pinhole on his wrist shriveled like a brand, and his skin was shriveled, like a fruit shell that had been sucked dry. She gritted her teeth and whispered, "Old Chen is right, they are sleeping - no, they are being squeezed dry." Her voice trembled, and the blue liquid in the dock cabin appeared in her mind, and she whispered, "This is your purpose."

The terminal lit up, she inserted the memory card, and the screen popped up a record: the volunteers slept 14 hours a day, brain waves were collected in real time, the screen displayed heart rate, EEG and dream fragments, and the remuneration was settled according to "quality", like trading souls. At the end it said: "C-17 group, sacrifice rate 77%, in line with expectations." She clenched her fists, her nails pinched into her palms and blood oozed out, her brother's figure appeared in her mind, and she growled: "You traded your life for money!" Her voice echoed in the empty hall, like an angry verdict.

Suddenly, the alarm sounded piercingly, and the red light flashed, like blood flowing in the light. She pulled out the memory card, turned around and rushed to the exit. The door behind her slammed shut, and the sound of metal collision was deafening. She cursed in a low voice: "I've been discovered!" Her heart beat like a drum, and Jeffers' warning flashed through her mind: "They won't give up."

V. Hard Escape

The footsteps approached, and five security guards rushed in with electric batons. The "S.U.C" logo on their uniforms flashed coldly in the dim light. She dodged the electric shock by turning sideways, and her movements were as fast as the wind. She hit one person's chin with the electric baton with her backhand, and the bone cracked crisply, like breaking a piece of ice. Another one swung a baton and hit her. She rolled to the back of the cabin, and the lock-breaking device caught his ankle and pulled him to the ground. The security guard knocked over an instrument when he fell, and sparks flew everywhere. She panted and growled, "Stop me? No way!"

The vents at the top of the hall spewed out white mist, with the sweet smell of sedatives, like poison under sugar coating. She covered her mouth and nose and rushed to the freight elevator, but found that the door was locked, and there were rough marks welded on the lock core. She glanced at the maintenance ladder in the corner, rusty, like an escape route to the unknown. When she climbed up, her foot slipped and she almost fell down. The rust pierced into the palm of her hand and blood dripped on the ladder. She gritted her teeth and climbed. The fog was filled and the visibility was less than two meters. The ladder in front of her seemed to be shaking in the fog. She whispered, "Can't stop."

The ladder led to the seventh floor. She kicked open the top cover and rolled into a dim corridor. The cold air of liquid nitrogen floated in the air, which made her lungs ache. The walls were covered with "777" steel stamps, like countless repeated curses. She pushed open a door, and inside was the server room. Dozens of machines were roaring, and the heat wave was blowing in her face. The screen showed "Dream Distillation Progress", and the data was jumping, as if it was devouring life. She took out a mini camera to take a picture, her fingers trembling with nervousness, and whispered: "The evidence is there."

The security guard's shout came from a distance: "She's on the seventh floor! Don't let her run!" The voice was urgent and angry, like a pack of hounds approaching. She rushed to the fire escape on the other side. The door was welded shut, and the weld was rough, like a hastily sealed coffin. She used a lock-pushing tool to smash the lock core, and iron filings flew. The old injury on her shoulder hurt like a tear, and blood flowed down her jacket. She kicked the door open and rushed into the stairwell. The sparks of the electric baton behind her rubbed against the wall and sparks flew out, as if chasing her shadow.

6. Escape from Despair

The stairwell was narrow, and the footsteps echoed on the metal wall, like an endless chase. She ran to the bottom floor, and the exit was an underground pipe. The sewage was over her ankles, and it was freezing cold, emitting the stench of decay and chemicals. She gritted her teeth and crawled in. The security guard's curse echoed in the pipe: "Don't let her run away! Catch her!" The voice was distorted, like a roar from hell.

At the end of the pipe was an abandoned sewage treatment outlet. The iron fence was rusty. When she pushed it open, her palm was cut with a bloody mark. She rolled into the garbage dump outside. The stench was overwhelming. The garbage bag broke and the dirt splashed on her face. The fog was so thick that she couldn't see the road clearly. She climbed up. A bloody cut was made on her leg by a sharp object. The blood flowed down her trouser legs. She looked back and saw a group of drones in the building taking off. The red light was approaching like a blood spot, like a group of bloodthirsty bats.

She rushed to the corner of the street and hid in the back seat of an abandoned truck. The car was filled with rags and empty cans, emitting a sour smell. She held her breath. Sweat mixed with blood dripped onto the floor. The dripping sound was harsh in the silence. The drone flew overhead, the search light swept across the roof, and the beam flashed in front of her eyes. She whispered, "Don't find me." Ten minutes later, the drone dispersed and the red light disappeared in the fog. She climbed out, panting and leaning against the car door, whispering, "I survived." Her voice was low and tired. Jeffers' face appeared in her mind, and she whispered, "Hold on, I got something."

7. Undercurrents

The hiding place was an abandoned apartment with peeling walls and crooked window frames. Mist seeped in from the gaps like a ghost's fingers. Niu Aihua opened the memory card and inserted it into the tablet. More records popped up on the screen: there were more than 100 volunteers in Area C, and the mortality rate was rising month by month. The data was cold, like a slaughterhouse account book. She turned to a page and her brother's name was listed: "C-01, experiment terminated, remuneration not settled, brain damage irreversible, incineration." She clenched her fists, her eyes red, and growled: "It's you." Her voice trembled, and her brother's letter emerged in her mind: "The seventh floor will destroy people." She whispered: "Destroy you, and destroy me."

Outside the window, the roar of a truck came in the fog, and the fluorescent words "S.U.C Logistics" on the rear of the truck were dazzling, as if mocking her powerlessness. She took out Lao Chen's note, stroked the handwriting with her fingers, and whispered: "If the seventh floor can't be destroyed, I will destroy your entire company." She took a deep breath, the musty smell in the air was pungent, and she whispered: "Sun umbrella, you wait." Her eyes were blazing, like a wounded beast, ready for the last fight.